il him, and it was only by a great effort that he was able to keep a
fixed direction by the aid of the sun through the leaves. He tied up again
at night, and paddled all the next day, finding to his gratification in
the afternoon that the water now did not average more than four feet deep.
By noon the next day he saw a break in the line of water, and a few
minutes later stood on dry ground. He did not attempt to go further, but
throwing himself down fell at once into a deep sleep. It was evening when
he awoke; the fire still burned on the hearth in the canoe; he had been
careful to keep it alight by breaking off pieces of dead wood from the
trees. He now collected a large store, built up a pile a few feet beyond
the water-level, and bringing some brands from the fire set it alight. His
scanty stock of provisions was now nearly exhausted; he ate half of what
remained, and then lay down before the fire with his pistols ready at hand
in case any wild beasts should come near. The next morning he started in
what he believed to be the right direction, keeping near the edge of the
inundation. His memory of what happened afterwards was vague and
indistinct. He remembered that for several days he kept on, sometimes
plucking fruit as he went, and occasionally firing a gun three times.
Rapidly his strength failed as he went on, he often stumbled and fell from
exhaustion and hunger, and the power of thought altogether deserted him.

At times he fancied he saw men approaching, but only to find that his
imagination had converted trees into moving objects. He had long since
left the edge of the inundation. He was parched with thirst, his mind
wandered, incoherent cries proceeded from his parched lips. At last he
thought he saw a native village before him; as he drew towards it figures
came out from the huts and gazed at him. A moment later he fell headlong
to the ground, and lay there insensible.

When he came to himself he felt so weak that he could neither turn nor
raise his head, but lay wondering vaguely where he was. As he looked
upwards he thought he was still dreaming, for the well-known face of Pita
was looking down upon him.

"Do you know me?" It was certainly Pita's voice, and being unable to move,
Stephen closed his eyelids quickly in reply to the question.

"The saints be praised!" the Indian exclaimed, using the ejaculation
common among the Peruvians. "He knows me, Hurka--he is sensible again,
after all this time."

H