air, charged after him. Swift as thought A-ya drew her
bow. The arrow buried itself deep in the red giant's muzzle. With a
bawl of fury, he paused, to try and root the burning torment out of
his nose. The whole herd paused behind him. It was only for a few
seconds, and then he came on again, blowing blood and foam from his
nostrils; but they were precious seconds, and the fugitives, running
lightly, and stooping low for fear of offending the bees, had gained a
start of a hundred yards or more.

The three were among the swiftest runners of the tribe; but Grom soon
saw that the utmost they could hope was to maintain their distance.
And there was the imminent risk that the bees, disturbed by the noise
of flight and pursuit, might take umbrage. To lessen this frightful
risk, he swerved out till he was some thirty or forty paces distant
from the belt of woods. And he noticed, too, that the pursuing herd
seemed to have no great anxiety to approach the frontiers of the Bee
People. They were following on a slant that gave the woods a wide
berth.

About a mile further on the woods came to an end, and Grom, though he
feared the pace might be beginning to tell on A-ya, and though there
was no refuge in sight, breathed more freely. He feared the bees more
than the yellow monsters, because they were something he could not
fight. The grass-land now ran clear to the river's edge, and gave firm
footing; and the fugitives raced on, breathing carefully, and trusting
to come to trees again before they should be spent.

At last a curve of the bank showed them the woods sweeping down again
to the water, but three or four miles ahead! Grom, looking back over
his shoulder, realized that their pursuers were now gaining upon them
appreciably. With an effort he quickened his pace still further. Loob
responded without difficulty. But A-ya's face showed signs of
distress, and at this Grom's heart sank. He began to scan the water,
weighing the chances of the crocodiles. It looked as if they were
trapped beyond escape.

Perhaps half a mile up the shore a spit of land ran out against the
current, and behind its shelter an eddy had collected a mass of
uprooted trees and other flood refuse, all matted with green from the
growth of wind-borne seeds. It was in reality a great natural raft,
built by the eddy and anchored behind the little point. For this Grom
headed with new hope. It might be strong enough--parts of it at
least--to bear up the three