some faith in his tale.

So we all piled into his crazy boat with our belongings, and he
promptly lost the way amid the twelve-foot grass-papyrus mostly--that
divided the river into narrow streams and afforded protection to the
most savagely hungry mosquitoes in the world. Our faces and hands were
wet with blood in less than two minutes.

Presently, instead of finding bottom for his pole, he pushed us into
deep water. The grass disappeared, and a ripple on the water lipping
dangerously within three inches of our uneven gunwale proved that we
were more or less in the main stream. We had enjoyed that sensation
for about a minute, and were headed toward where we supposed the
opposite bank must be, when a hippo in a hurry to breathe blew just
beside us--saw, smelt, or heard us (it was all one to him)--and dived
again.

I suppose in order to get his head down fast enough he shoved his rump
up, and his great fat back made a wave that ended that voyage abruptly.
Our three inches of broadside vanished. The canoe rocked violently,
filled, turned over, and floated wrong side up.

"All the same," laughed Will, spluttering and spitting dirty water,
"here's where the crocks get fooled! They don't eat me for supper!"

He was first on top of the overturned boat, and dragged me up after
him. Together we hauled up Brown, who could not swim but was
bombastically furious and unafraid; and the three of us pulled out the
porters and the fatuous boat's owner. The pole was floating near by,
and I swam down-stream and fetched it. When they had dragged me back
on to the wreck the moon came out, and we saw the far bank hazily
through mist and papyrus.

The boat floated far more steadily wrong side up, perhaps because we
had lashed all our loads in place and they acted as ballast. Will took
the pole and acted the part of Charon, our proper pilot contenting
himself with perching on the rear end lamenting the ill-fortune noisily
until Kazimoto struck him and threatened to throw him back into the
water.

"They don't want a fool like you in the other world," he assured him.
"You will die of old age!"

The papyrus inshore was high enough to screen the moon from us, and we
had to hunt a passage through it in pitch darkness. Then, having found
the muddy bank at last (and more trillions of mosquitoes) we had to
drag the overturned boat out high and dry to rescue our belongings.
And that was ticklish work, because most of the crocodil