grow farther off, till at last Poole
slipped on one of the muddy logs which formed the road, and nearly went
headlong, but was saved by his companion, who in his effort to hold him
up, fetched him a sharp rap on the head with the barrel of his gun.

"Thank you," said Poole.

"Oh, I only tried to keep you up," said Fitz, breathing hard.

"I meant for that affectionate crack you fetched me on the head. I say,
this arn't sporting, you know."

"What do you mean?" whispered Fitz.

"I mean, don't shoot me so as to fill the bag."

"Don't fool," cried Fitz angrily.

"All right; but don't hit me again like that. It hurts."

"Pish! It was an accident. I am afraid--"

"So am I," said Poole, taking him up sharply; "horribly."

"I mean, that we have got on the wrong road."

"I thought so; but we can't be. There is only this one, if you call it
a road, leading straight down to the river--no, not straight;
circumbendibus-y."

"No," said Fitz, "it must have branched off, or we should have been at
the river long enough ago."

"No, we have come too slowly."

"Where is the river, then?" said Fitz.

_Plash! Quenk_!

At that moment some kind of waterfowl rose from its lair with a good
deal of fluttering of its wings, and a plaintive cry of alarm.

"Ah!" sighed Fitz, with a deep expiration of his breath. "At last!"

"Yes, at last. Mind how you come. The wharf must be just here. Can
you make out that bank of mist?"

"Yes; I can see the top of it cut off quite sharply, and with the stars
above it. That must be the river, then."

"That's right," said Poole. "Here, look out; we are quite close to the
edge of the wharf. I say, what luck! We've got here safely, after all.
Ah-h! What are you about?"

"Slipped," said Fitz, with a gasp. "The wood's like ice."

"Precious hot ice. I'm dripping. Do take care. If you go overboard
you'll be swept right away, and I'm bothered if I come after you."

"I don't believe you," said Fitz, with a little laugh. "But oh, I say!"

"What's the matter now? Smell crocs?"

"No, no. I was thinking about those poor fellows in the boat. It's so
horribly silent. Surely they have escaped."

Poole was silent for a few moments, and it seemed to the middy that he
was breathing unusually hard.

"Is anything the matter?" whispered Fitz, at last. "Oh, don't talk like
that!" came in an excited whisper.

"Then why don't you give the signal? What is it?"

"I was listening