the bush, sending twigs and leaves flying in his
alarm.

The noise served to arouse Barry, for his senses had been lulled by the
dark soft night voices, and he had been dreaming again. He sprang alert
in a moment at the deer's sudden commotion, and now his keen ear caught
another, harsher sound; the sound of booted feet approaching.

"Here's some white man!" he whispered, drawing Little back into hiding,
for that ardent young man was yet staring open-eyed after the vanished
deer.

"Leyden!" breathed Little, and a voice from the as yet unseen stranger
bore out his guess. Leyden came to the river bank without any attempt at
caution. He sent earth and rushes scattering beneath his feet, and he
hailed his boat's crew in a voice that carried clear over the river.

"Start her up, lads," he cried, stepping down the bank where two men
waited to hand him into the launch. "Give her all she'll carry,
engineer. The luck's right with us!"

The launch broke into sudden bustle, and sparks flew from the
smokestack. The crew chattered freely and much merriment was mixed in
the chatter. But the thing that shocked Barry, and gave even the
unthinking Little cause for reflection, was Leyden's tone. If ever utter
and complete triumph and exaltation were expressed in man's voice, they
were ringing then in every word the man uttered.

No particular word was spoken to give excuse for the feeling in the
skipper's breast; but in every note and syllable Leyden uttered, even
the bare order to cast off lines, there was jubilation and mirth. And
mirth, in a man like Leyden, meant mischief, according to Jack Barry's
ideas. When, after the launch floated away from the bank, the man
actually began to sing a cheerful little song about ripe pomegranates
and passion flowers, Barry's teeth had all but loosened themselves
through sheer grinding rage.

"Get aboard!" he growled into Little's ear, plunging down towards the
longboat. "If only that rat would give me a chance to peep along sights
at him!"

The lugsails were useless until the gorge was passed; and in the
narrowed river the current swept down with doubled velocity, making the
stout oars crack as the seamen bent their backs to offset it. And when
at last the wider stream was entered, and the sails began to draw, the
launch had passed out of sight; only the distant and diminishing chug of
her propeller gave indication that she was ahead. With gathering speed
as the night breeze gained stren