he blacks see
him shrink, and stepped calmly in, to sit down with his knees to his
chin and the thickest part of the serpent passing round behind his
heels, the head and tail lying forward, with the paddlers sitting inside
the loop it formed.

They had cargo enough to make the slight vessel seem heavily-laden, but
it was sent rapidly across the lagoon, the blacks eager and triumphant
to display their successful efforts to their companions, who were all
perched up on the bulwarks on either side of the gangway, face outward,
waiting to see the portion that would come to their share.

CHAPTER TWENTY THREE.

The proximity of the evil-smelling serpent to Carey's legs doubtless had
something to do with the speed of his movements in quitting the canoe
and climbing the side; and on reaching the gangway he looked round in
vain for the doctor and Bostock, for they were not visible, neither was
Mallam on the deck.

"Where's the doctor?" he said to one of the blacks, but the man merely
stared at him blankly. "Cookie?" cried Carey, and the man grinned and
pointed towards the galley.

But Carey did not go in that direction, turning aft towards the saloon
entrance, where on reaching the top of the brass-bound stairs he stopped
in alarm, for a hoarse groan ascended to his ears.

A shiver of dread ran through the lad, for it was evident that something
terrible had happened during his absence, and for a few moments he stood
listening.

Then, mastering the coward dread, he took a few steps down.

"What's the matter?" he cried, excitedly, but there was only another
groan, and he leaped down the remaining stairs to the saloon door, but
only to find that it was shut and fastened, and that the startling
sounds had not come from there, but from the lower cabin.

The boy did not stop to question, but began to descend. He had not
taken two steps, however, before there was the sharp report of a pistol,
and a bullet whistled by his ear. Then there was another shot, which
was better aimed, striking him in the chest, and he fell back against
the bulkhead, to slide down in a half-sitting, half-lying position upon
the stairs, struggling to get his breath, while a deathly feeling of
sickness made his head swim and everything seemed to be turning black.

It was some minutes before he came sufficiently to himself to realise
that he was lying back there upon the stairs, unable to move, and a
greater time elapsed before he fully recalled