uttering cries for help, which grew
feebler every moment as he sank deeper and deeper into what now he
believed should be his grave, his comrades were hastening forward to his
rescue.

Alarmed at his prolonged absence, they had armed themselves, and set out
in search of him, headed by the trader and led by the negro, who tracked
his steps with that unerring certainty which seems peculiar to all
savages. The shrieks uttered by their poor comrade soon reached their
ears, and after some little difficulty, owing to the cries becoming
faint, and at last inaudible, they discovered the swamp where he lay,
and revived his hope and energy by their shouts. They found him nearly
up to the neck in mud, and the little of him that still remained above
ground was scarcely recognisable.

It cost them nearly an hour, with the aid of poles, and ropes
extemporised out of their garments, to drag Jim from his perilous
position and place him on solid ground; and after they had accomplished
this, it took more than an hour longer to clean him and get him
recruited sufficiently to accompany them to the spot where they had left
the canoe.

The poor man was deeply moved; and when he fully realised the fact that
he was saved, he wept like a child, and then thanked God fervently for
his deliverance. As the night was approaching, and the canoe, with
Ailie in it, had been left in charge only of Glynn Proctor, Jim's
recovery was expedited as much as possible, and as soon as he could walk
they turned to retrace their steps.

Man knows not what a day or an hour will bring forth. For many years
one may be permitted to move on "the even tenor of his way," without
anything of momentous import occurring to mark the passage of his little
span of time as it sweeps him onward to eternity. At another period of
life, events, it may be of the most startling and abidingly impressive
nature, are crowded into a few months or weeks, or even days. So it was
now with our travellers on the African river. When they reached the
spot where they had dined, no one replied to their shouts. The canoe,
Glynn, and the child were gone.

On making this terrible discovery the whole party were filled with
indescribable consternation, and ran wildly hither and thither, up and
down the banks of the river, shouting the names of Glynn Proctor and
Ailie, until the woods rang again. Captain Dunning was almost mad with
anxiety and horror. His imagination pictured his child