would be easier to bear than the thought that she had gone to rest
in the grasp of the hirsute gorilla, with its hideous offspring grinning
and gibbering around her.

The lagoon could not be waded on foot; but a good swimmer might cross
it. The captain was an experienced and accomplished swimmer. The
voices came from no great distance--certainly not above half a mile. On
one occasion he had accomplished a league in a rough sea! There could
be no difficulty in doing as much on the smooth, tranquil water of that
tree-shaded lake.

He had opened his arms and prepared to strike out, when a thought stayed
him. Saloo, who had waded to his side, also arrested him by laying a
hand on his shoulder.

"You try swimmee, cappen, no good without weapon; we both go togedder--
muss take gun, sumpitan, kliss, else no chance killee mias."

It was the thought that had occurred to Captain Redwood himself.

"Yes, you are right, Saloo. I must take my rifle, but how am I to keep
it dry?--there's not time to make a raft."

"No raff need, cappen; givee me you gun--Saloo swim single-hand well as
two; he cally the gun."

Captain Redwood knew it to be true that Saloo, as he said, could swim
with one hand as well as he himself with both.

He was a Malay, to whom swimming in the water is almost as natural as
walking upon the land. His old pilot could scarcely have been drowned
if he had been flung into the sea twenty miles from shore.

He at once yielded to Saloo's counsel; and both hastily returned to the
edge of the lagoon to make preparations.

These did not occupy long. The captain threw off some of his clothes,
stowed his powder-flask and some bullets in the crown of his hat, which
he fastened firmly on his head. He retained a knife--intended in case
of necessity--to be carried between his teeth, giving his gun to Saloo.

The Malay, having less undressing to do, had already completed the
arrangements. On the top of his turban, safely secured by a knotting of
his long black hair, he had fastened his bamboo quiver of poisoned
arrows; while his kris--with which a Malay under no circumstances thinks
of parting--lay along his thigh, kept in position by the waist-strap
used in suspending his _sarong_. With his sumpitan and the captain's
gun in his left hand, he was ready to take to the water. Not another
moment was lost; the voices of the ourangs seemed to be calling them;
and plunging through the shallow, they were soon out