few paces brought them to it. Their path turned abruptly left-handed following the bank, and they were just turning along it when from the distance there came a steady creaking noise and they paused listening.
"The rowlocks of a boat," remarked Jim. "Now we may find out something."
Only a thin screen of undergrowth separated them from the water, and with infinite caution they peered through. In front of them was the river; to their right the stinking crocodile pool. And by leaning forward a little they could see down stream for about fifty yards.
Suddenly a boat hove in sight, and in the stern sat Don Miguel. By his side was a bloated looking red-faced man who held the tiller ropes, and Jim put his lips to his cousin's ear.
"Bully McIntyre," he whispered. "So it was the yacht."
He was evidently having some argument with Don Miguel and at length the latter shrugged his shoulders. The sailor gave an order, the men ceased rowing, and McIntyre ran the nose of the boat into the bank.
"Get ashore, Mr. Murdoch," he ordered, "and see what it's like."
An officer who had been sitting in the bows seized some overhanging branches and hoisted himself out. He was on the opposite side of the pool to Jim and Percy, but they could see the glint of his white ducks through the undergrowth.
"There's a regular path here," he sang out, "which seems to lead into the forest. Shall I go along and explore it a bit?"
"Yes—but don't get lost."
And even as McIntyre spoke a scream of fear rang out. They had a fleeting glimpse of a white-clad figure falling through the air, followed by a splash. And the motionless logs were motionless no longer. The water in the pool swirled angrily, and before their eyes the wretched man was torn to pieces.
"What's the matter?" shouted McIntyre, as the boat moved away from the bank, and came upstream a few strokes till it was abreast of the pool.
"Good God!" he went on, "he fell in that damned pool and the crocs have got him. You filthy brutes," he roared picking up a rifle and taking aim at the big one on the tree. He shot it through the eye, and with its tail lashing furiously the great reptile rolled over and sank in the water.
"I guess we'll come back to-morrow morning," said Don Miguel, "when we've got the day in front of us." And the other nodded assent.
The boat went about, and after a while the noise of the oars died away in the distance.
"Why did that poor devil scream, Percy?" said Jim with a queer look in his eyes.
"Dash it all, old lad, most people would give tongue if they found themselves in a crocodile pool."
"Yes—but not until they found themselves there. He yelled before he knew there were any crocodiles."
Percy stared at Jim.
"You mean..."
"I mean that he never fell in: he was thrown or pushed in. And it was what he saw in that fleeting second that terrified him, and nothing to do with the crocodiles. Didn't you see the undergrowth moving on the other side of the river as something went through it, keeping pace with the boat? Well, there was something this side as well."
"Following Miguel's party."
"Exactly. And for that reason, at any rate, we can be thankful the yacht has arrived earlier than we expected. It's distracted the attention of these brutes away from us. Otherwise, I don't mind telling you that I think our chances of getting through alive were pretty minute."
"I'd like to have seen that thing you shot."
"So would I. And in due course you shall—or one like it. But not this trip, Percy."
"You are coming back?"
"Of course. Once Judy is safely on her way back to England I return here."
"And what about the other bunch?"
"They haven't got the map, and if we can get away to-night we've got 'em stung. Moreover, seeing that almost all the crew are dagos, one or two more regrettable incidents such as we've just witnessed are going to shake 'em badly. Let's get a move on."
They turned along the track going up stream, and found that it soon left the bank and turned back into the forest. And now time was vital: at the most half an hour of daylight remained to them. The track jinked, then jinked again, and Jim gave a sigh of relief as he glanced at his compass: they were heading for the open. But there was still at least two miles to cover, and the going was getting worse. Evidently the track they were on was not much used: tendrils of vegetation met across the clearing through which they had to force their way. And dusk was beginning to fall when the first faint reek of the swamp came to their nostrils.
At last they saw it in front of them, and Jim's face was grave. A thin white vapour was already rising, and only too well did he realise the danger that that portended. In the walk that lay before them a single false step might mean death in the green bog, and to have mist as well as darkness to contend against would double their difficulty. And he was just debating in his mind whether it would not be better to spend the night where they were and wait for the dawn, when they saw stealing out from behind the hill that stood outlined against the darkening sky, the lights of a ship.
"Don Miguel's yacht," he muttered. "What the deuce has she been doing there? I don't like it, Percy. When we heard her siren she was away south of us. What has taken her round to the north of the island?"
"Probably looking for us," said his cousin.
"Exactly," remarked Jim. "And they couldn't avoid finding us."
"I don't see that they can do any harm," said Percy. "They are probably peeved over the map, but as you've got that in your pocket it doesn't matter much."
"Damn the map: they can have that for shaving paper. It's Judy I'm thinking of."
"Surely they wouldn't touch her."
"That swine of a dwarf would murder his mother for sixpence," grunted Jim. "Still, Bill was there. Anyway, that settles it: we must push on. I suppose one party went away to explore the river, while Dresler went round in the yacht to find us. Hullo! what's that?"
Clear and distinct through the still air had come the sharp crack of a rifle. They paused instinctively, and the next moment even Jim felt the hair on his head begin to rise. Yell after yell of frenzied terror rang out: then sudden, abrupt silence.
They peered ahead, but could see nothing in the fading light.
"Heaven send it wasn't Bill coming to find us," cried Jim.
"What was it, Jim?" muttered his cousin.
"It was a man," he answered grimly. "I wouldn't like to say what it is now."
"Somebody fallen into the bog perhaps."
"Possibly. But you don't let off your gun at a bog. And as I say, Heaven send it wasn't Bill."
"He'd never have left Judy."
"I agree. But supposing Judy left him."
He pointed at the yacht which was now abreast of them.
"That's what I'm afraid of, Percy."
"You mean they may have kidnapped her."
"Exactly. As a lever to make us give up the map. And then Bill came along to meet us."
"He'd never have let them take her."
"How could he prevent them? He would have shot anything he saw coming off from the shore, but he couldn't shoot a boat-load of men coming from a yacht. Damn it! if it isn't Bill who can it be?"
"And you think one of the things got him?"
"I do," said Jim gravely. "The poor old lad fired and missed. And what we've got to watch out for is that we don't do the same. It may have been a chance encounter, or they may post sentinels out at night."
They pressed on as fast as they dared. Luckily the mist was