but his head ached and he was worn out by
physical effort and anxious watching. By and by his eyes got heavy and he
sank down in a corner of the great roots.

The fire had burned low when he looked up and a bright beam that touched
a neighboring trunk indicated that the moon was high. All was very quiet
but for the splash of the falling dew; the glade was a little brighter,
and rousing himself with an effort, he glanced about. He saw the white
men's figures, stretched in ungainly attitudes on a piece of old canvas.
They were all there, but he could not see the _Meztisos_. Getting up, he
walked into the gloom and then stopped with something of a shock. There
was nobody about.

For a few moments, Kit thought hard. To begin with, he had been rash to
pay half the porters' wages before they started. The money was a large
sum for them and they had stolen away; perhaps because they were
satisfied and afraid of meeting the president's soldiers, or perhaps to
betray the party to the rebels for another reward. If the latter
supposition were correct, Kit thought he ran some risk. Galdar's friends
knew he could not be bribed and that Adam was ill, although it was hardly
possible they knew he was dead. They would see that Kit had now control
and since his help was valuable to the president might try to kill him.
His best plan was to push on.

He wakened the sailors, who grumbled, but picked up the coffin when he
tersely explained the situation. Wet bushes brushed against them,
soaking their thin clothes, trailers caught their heads, and the road
got wetter and rougher until they came to a creek. Kit could not tell
how deep it was; the forest was very dark and only a faint reflection
marked the water.

"We must get across, boys," he said, and the others agreed. They were
hard men, but the dark and silence weighed them down and excited vague
superstitious fears. It was a gruesome business in which they were
engaged and they did not like their load.

They plunged in and one called out hoarsely when he stumbled and the
lurching coffin struck his head. Another gasped, as if he were choking,
while he struggled to balance the poles. The current rippled round
their legs; it was hard to pull their feet out of the mud, and when
there was a splash in the dark they stopped, dripping with sweat that
was not altogether caused by effort. One swore at the others in a
breathless voice.

"Shove on, you slobs!" he said. "The old man's getting h