ll a column of smoke issued from the
funnel. Soon the hiss of steam from the escape told that the launch was
ready for a move, and at once Mr Pepson stepped to the tiller.

"We'll leave our boats anchored over here," he said, "for it would never
do to have them over on the far shore and run the risk of attack. In
the confusion, if there were need to escape, they would hamper us, and
would perhaps be lost. Make them fast together, Dick, and we'll leave
Johnnie in charge."

Another two minutes saw the launch steaming away from beneath the trees
on the eastern side of the Pra, and presently her nose was pushing its
way through the reeds and osiers which cropped up here and there on the
far side.

Mr Pepson still held the tiller, a rifle beside him, and a cigar
between his lips. The bulky form of the Dutchman was stretched out on
the deck behind the tiny cabin. His rifle was at his shoulder, and he
surveyed the jungle eagerly, treating every dark patch and shadow to a
fierce scowl which boded ill for the man who might be lurking there.
His finger on such occasions would go to the trigger of his snider till
Dick fidgeted and felt uncomfortable, for he was not far from the line
of fire. He lay in the bows, a light bamboo in his hands, with which he
every now and again sounded the bed of the river to make sure that there
was sufficient water. A few minutes' gliding along in the shadows
brought them to the spot where the action of the previous night had
taken place, a spot instantly recognised by the figures lying about it.
For stretched in the sun were the victims of Dick's fire, as yet
undiscovered by the river alligators. Dick shuddered, and transferred
his gaze to the bush. Then, remembering Mr Pepson's words, he looked
again. One poor wretch lay face down in the water, his body already
almost covered with drifting mud, while his feet protruded on to the
land. Close to him lay a second, still and dark, his limbs stretched to
their fullest extent, while some paces away were three more of the
attackers, all stark and dead.

"The reward of rascality," cried Mr Pepson. "A horrid sight, my
friends; but then we might have been in their place, and war and battles
are always horrid. How's the depth, Dick? Can you get ashore?"

For answer our hero tried the sounding with his stick again, and then
stood up. Taking his rifle he dropped lightly into the water and waded
ashore. Then he went to the figures lying abou