nk I saw one shoot into that island--the big one with the
palm-tree in the centre."

"All right," said the hunter, quickly. "Don't look that way; take in
the sail. If they are there, we don't want to draw their attack now.
Get out the sculls, Venning, and keep her towards the sandbank
ahead. Just keep her moving."

The sail rattled down, and the Okapi lazily moved nearer the shore,
leaving about a mile of water between her and the island, towards
which Mr. Hume, lying flat, was directing his glasses. The others
were looking ostentatiously shorewards.

"You are right, Compton; canoes are gathering under that island."

"Congela," said the chief, "there is a man watching us from the
land."

"Signal to him," said Mr. Hume. "You see, what we want is to keep
those canoes where they are till night; and they probably won't move
till they have a signal from their friends ashore."

Muata called out, and a man who was skulking behind a bush stepped
out.

"Why do you watch, my friend?"

"O chiefs," shouted the man, "all goes well. The men will be here at
nightfall, and the fire will be lit to guide you."

"It is good," said Muata. "We will wait."

The man stood for some time watching, then went into the bush, and
the crew of the Okapi, to divert suspicion, got out fishing-lines
and fished; but all the time Mr. Hume, lying under the awning,
watched the distant island, which shielded an unknown number of
their watchful foes.

"Woo!" said Muata, "the great one was right; and Muata is still a
boy. Haw! Truly, if we had landed, our journey would have ended
here."

"Suppose the canoes dash out before dark?" said Venning.

"Then we will make a run for it."

It was a long, long afternoon. Anxiously they waited for the sun to
set, and the boys marked the slow creeping of the shadows over the
river thrown by the ridge on the south bank, and anxiously Mr. Hume
watched the island and the broad sweep ahead--for the danger was
ahead. If the enemy had taken precautions to send a portion of the
fleet up-river, they stood a chance of being intercepted.

At last the hour had come. The sky was turning grey, the shadows
reached right across, and the evening wind was rustling the leaves.
The Okapi began to move. She crept away from the shore, and then
turned again with her bows to the bank. So she waited a few minutes
while the darkness deepened, then, as a flame broke out on land, the
sail was run up; she came round once more wi