Chapter Four.

Chapter Four.A Chase and a Fight.“In a little while the sun will be down,” said Mr Pepson, as he sprawled on the deck of the steam launch that evening. “Then it will be dark in half an hour or less, and we shall have to think of setting a watch. Meinheer will take the first one. From seven to nine, Meinheer. Dick will follow from that hour till midnight, and I shall take the watch from the first moment of the new day till the light comes. That will be about three o’clock. Now let us get our supper.”All day they had been steaming without adventure and without interruption up the broad sweep of the river Pra, seeing nothing to alarm them, and meeting with no difficulties. So far they had had plenty of water beneath their keels, and an ample space through which to steer. But there were signs that the river was narrowing, while all felt as if the forest was hemming them in.“Zis is noding do whad we shall have soon,” the Dutchman said, with a wave of his arm. “Zis forest—I have been for some miles into him before, mine friends—sdredches for a long, long way. Id is tick, too. See how ze drees shood up close togeder. And watch below. Ze creepers are everywhere. Id would dake a day do cud a new road a mile long. Yes. Id is dense. Bud we shall have no drouble. Ze river dakes us do ze mine.”“For which I am only too thankful,” added Mr Pepson. “Our journey should occupy but three days, or at the most four. If we had to march through the forest we should have to take an army of Fanti labourers to cut a road. And then think of the fever.”“And of the machinery, too,” exclaimed Dick.“Yes, that is another point,” agreed Mr Pepson. “This country has been noted for its gold for many years. The Ashantis have carried on a trade since they became a nation, and there is no doubt that there are vast natural stores. You may ask, why have others not attempted to open mines before this? They have done so. The beach at Elmina and at Cape Coast Castle is strewn with rusting machinery, which has been landed with a purpose, and then left to rot and rust simply because of the difficulty of transport, and because of this forest. Luckily for us our mine is near the river. But here’s supper. Sit down, Van Somering.”It was delightful to be out there in the open, even though the air hummed with myriads of mosquitoes. The launch and her three consorts lay moored out in the stream some hundred yards or less from the left bank of the river. About them, but for the buzz of the insects and the ripple of the water, all was still and silent. Not a beast seemed to be stirring, while even aboard the boats all had settled down to rest. Johnnie, the stoker and driver, sat in the engine-well wiping his black hands after an inspection of the machinery, while the Fanti crew lay curled up in the bottom of the boats, two in each one, content with the world, waiting quietly for their evening meal. And now it was ready. With a broad grin Johnnie announced that the water boiled, while Dick, who had been superintending a dish of bacon which he had placed at the furnace door, sang out that it was done to a turn.“Then I will make the coffee,” cried Mr Pepson. “Meinheer, see that the cloth is laid; and, Dick, steady with the bacon. We will start fair together.”The cloth consisted of a sheet of newspaper, a very ancient London daily, which the Dutchman spread out on the deck. Plates were of enamelled iron—the class of ware to stand half a dozen campaigns—while mugs were of the same hardy material, and were apt to be used for soup or coffee, water or good wine, just as circumstances dictated. It was all very jolly. Thisal frescopicnic delighted Dick, and he set-to at the meal with gusto, apologising for his appetite.“Id is goot! Id will make you grow sdoud, mine friend,” grunted Meinheer, in the midst of consuming a rasher. “Id will make you grow so big zad ze natives will zink you a gread man. See how zey dread me, Meinheer Van Somering!”He looked down at his ample proportions with evident satisfaction, and then completed his attack upon the rasher.“Do-nighd all will be quied, mine friends,” he went on. “I shall be on guard, and zese natives will not come. Perhaps lader zey will ask who we are. I will speak wiz zem. There will be no difficulty. Anozer rasher, Meinheer Dick.”They ate till they were satisfied, for there was no reason to be careful with the rations, as they had an ample supply. The repast was ended with a second cup of steaming coffee, when the burly Dutchman produced a pipe of dimensions as ample as his own, and with a bowl which took quite a quantity of tobacco to fill it. Mr Pepson lighted up a cigar, while Dick produced a briar pipe. Then for some minutes there was silence between them, while the darkness deepened, and the cigar and the pipes shone redder and redder.At length it was dark, so dark on the surface of the river that nothing was visible, and Dick could hardly see the figures of his comrades. But that was only for a little while. Soon a big pale, African moon got up, and, riding clear of the jungle, flooded the course of the river, the left bank near which the boats lay, and the tree-tops and jungle along that side. On the far bank all was densely dark, and no eye could penetrate the deep shadow which cloaked the dark and forbidding forest which stretched unbroken beside the Pra.“Bed!” called out Mr Pepson, indulging in a yawn. “Meinheer, yours is the first watch. Wake Dick at nine. Good-night.”“Good nighd, mine friends. Sleeb well, for I shall protect you.”The Dutchman went aft to the tiny cabin, and fetched his rifle and a bag of cartridges. Then he seated himself upon the roof of the saloon, the rifle across his knees, and his pipe held firmly between his teeth.Dick, too, was tired. It had been a long and interesting day, and he had watched the passing banks of the river till his eyes ached. Now he felt drowsy. He got up from the deck, stretched his arms and yawned, and then went off to the bows. A minute later he was wrapped in his blanket, which covered him from head to foot, his head was on a bag containing clothing, while his legs were stretched along the deck. Half an hour later he was asleep; all aboard, in fact, had turned in for their rest, save the solitary Dutchman, who still nursed his rifle, and puffed volumes of smoke from his lips without ceasing.No wonder that Dick was charmed with this trip up-country. It appealed with all its force to a young fellow of his age. He revelled in the strangeness of the scenery, the dense, awe-inspiring forests, and all the teeming life hidden in their midst, and the silent, slow-flowing river. That evening, too, he had thought how beautiful it all was, and how peaceful. He had admired the cold rays of the moon, the sleepy boats lying beneath it, and the dark figures stretched out beneath the thwarts. He had listened, too, for a time to the music of the bush, which came now more loudly to his ear. There was the chatter of a regiment of monkeys, the call of night birds innumerable, and the droning hum of the insects. Ever and anon there came a deeper sound, as if from some beast wandering in search of its meal, while once, as he awoke and rose on his elbow, he caught sight of a graceful four-footed animal—a gazelle—tripping gently into the river to drink. After that he stretched out again, and, lulled by the droning sounds, slept deeply.“What was that? Ah! that beast again!” he suddenly said in a whisper, as, some two hours later, he wakened with a start, only to close his eyes again, for he realised at once that the shriek he had heard was one which had often disturbed him at Cape Coast Castle—one which proceeded from the throat of a harmless forest animal.“Hoot! Hoot! Hoot!”“An owl now,” thought our hero, dreamily. “There it goes again, and quite close, too. Bother the bird!”“Hoot! Hoot!”This time Dick sat up on his elbow, and looked about him vainly for the bird. “Hoot! Hoot!” It came from his right, and he slowly turned his head in that direction. Then he did a curious thing. He lay flat of a sudden, and rubbed the sleep from his eyes vigorously.“That’s rummy!” he murmured beneath his breath. “One of the boats has disappeared, and the others are moving away, and—what does it all mean?”He rolled on to his back, lifted his head cautiously, and stared at the roof of the cabin. There was the figure of the Dutchman—immovable, looking fantastically huge, and sprawled out at full length. There was no pipe now to be seen, no smoke issued from his lips, while the rifle reposed beside him. Then came a deep, muffled snore. Meinheer Van Somering was asleep.“Then there is some one near us,” said Dick, swiftly. “Some one is stealing the boats. I must act with caution.”He had had experience of a midnight marauder before, and he determined on this occasion not to be so easily beaten. He rose to his knees, and crawled along the deck till he reached the Dutchman. A moment later he had the rifle in his hands, and had drawn back the lock. Click! At the crisp sound some one stirred. A dusky figure stood up on one of the boats close by, and commenced to pole lustily. Then a second stood erect, and Dick could hear the splash as his pole fell into the water.“Stop!” he shouted. “Bring that boat back, or I fire!”He covered the nearest figure with his weapon, and waited, while his shout was followed immediately by a scuffling behind him, and by the almost instant appearance of Mr Pepson. The latter seemed to take in the position at a glance. His eye detected the boat now so far away, the two remaining ones being poled by the two dark figures, and the huge, lumbering body of the Dutchman, still motionless and asleep.“Shoot,” he said, quietly.Dick lifted the weapon again, sighted for his man, and fired. There was a loud shriek, and hardly had the echo of the shot died down when a splash told that the bullet had reached. But our hero was not content. He stretched for the bag, snatched another cartridge, and, having placed it in the rifle, covered the second man. However there was no need to fire, for a second splash told that the miscreant, warned by the fate of his comrade, had leaped overboard.“What has happened?” demanded Mr Pepson, sharply, but with no trace of excitement in his voice. “You were asleep, for it is barely half-past eight. You found our watchman also asleep, and the boats departing. Did you see any one else?”“No one,” answered Dick, promptly. “But there must be one other at least. Look! There is a man poling the far boat.”“And he is too far away for a shot now. I might hit him, but the light is deceptive.”“Then why not follow sir?” exclaimed Dick. “Johnnie banked the fires, and in a few minutes there should be steam. That boat won’t have a chance. We shall be up with her before she can get far.”“But not before our goods are stolen. No, we will give chase in one of the other boats,” said Mr Pepson, with decision. “Meinheer, bring the steamer along at once. Dick and I will follow.”Already he was throwing off the hawser which held the anchor, and, as he did so, Dick seized a pole. A few strokes took the launch close to the moving boats which had been so silently set adrift.“Hold on, Johnnie, and you too, Meinheer,” called out Mr Pepson. “Now, Dick, get aboard with the gun, and I’ll follow with another. We’ll make one boat fast and pole the other down.”He ran along the deck of the launch, while Dick leaped into one of the native craft, two of which remained lashed side by side, and were floating away together. Suddenly a thought occurred to him. He sprang back into the launch, seized the bag of cartridges, and satisfying himself that it was well filled, slung it over his shoulder and again sprang into the native boat.“Better get all ready for the pursuit,” he said to himself. “I’ll set the two boats free, and toss the end of a rope attached to one to Meinheer. He can make it fast aft and follow with the boat in tow.”He fell upon the lashings with eagerness, and when Mr Pepson appeared from the cabin, carrying a rifle, Dick had the two boats separated, and had tossed a rope attached to one to the Dutchman.“Catch, Meinheer!” he shouted, for the burly Dutchman, since he had become fully awake, seemed to be endeavouring to collect his wits. The report of the rifle had brought him languidly to his feet, and now he stared at his two comrades in amazement, wholly unable to understand the need for such bustling, or for so much excitement.“Bud whad is zis?” he demanded. “Is id ze middle of ze nighd, or—whad?”“It means that you’ve been asleep when you ought to have been keeping watch,” answered Mr Pepson, bluntly. “Some thieves have cut our boats adrift, and one is being poled away. Don’t stare, Meinheer. Take the rope Dick has thrown and make it fast. Then follow as soon as you have steam. Johnnie, get that fire to blaze.”He stepped into the native craft and took the pole which Dick offered him.“Ready?” asked Dick.A loud splash was the only answer, as Mr Pepson let his pole fall into the water. Dick followed suit, and in a little while they were shooting down the river, which in these parts was sufficiently shallow to allow of poling.“Keep her in near the bank, sir,” sang out Dick. “It gets deeper out there, and I’ve noticed that the fellow who is poling is sometimes unable to bottom. We are getting nearer already. Can we try a shot?”“Wait,” was the answer. “We have him in any case. He cannot escape us, and if we only keep him in sight he cannot take our goods. Keep on as we are till we are certain of a shot. If he tries to make to the opposite shore, where all is dense shadow, we will drop our poles and fire together.”Ten minutes later they had overhauled the runaway to some extent, and when half an hour had passed they judged that they were within easy distance.“Try a shot,” said Mr Pepson. “Your young eyes are better than mine. Don’t hesitate, my lad. These fellows are rogues and would kill us without a thought. We must teach them a lesson.”Till that moment our hero would not have thought of hesitating, for he had felt the excitement of the chase, and he realised that he had to do with robbers who no doubt would have no scruples in killing him were he to come upon them. But just then the excitement had lessened somewhat. They were overhauling the chase without a doubt, and the figure poling the runaway boat looked so harmless there in the moonlight. Also he appeared to be unarmed. However, an order was an order, and his duty was plain. He dropped his pole into the bottom of the boat, picked up his rifle, and took a careful sight.“Sight about the middle of his body—no higher,” said Mr Pepson. “That should find a mark.”Crash! The report of the rifle set the jungle ringing, while it reverberated along the still surface of the river. Then came a shriek, followed by a shout from the shore. The native who poled the boat staggered and almost fell. Then he recovered himself, answered the shout from the shore, and in an instant had swung the boat’s head round in that direction.“We have him sure enough,” cried Mr Pepson, for the first time showing some trace of excitement. “He is making for the moonlit side, and cannot escape. At least, the boat and its freight are ours again. Drop the rifle and take to the pole.”They plunged their long poles into the water and sent the craft dancing after the other. But quick as they were, the boat in advance seemed to shoot across the moonlit stretch, and rapidly gained the bank. Again there was a shout, a dark figure ran out into the river, splashing the water loudly. Then a second followed, while the native who had been aboard threw his pole aside and staggered ashore.“Heavily hit,” gasped Mr Pepson, for the exertion of poling was beginning to tell upon him. “But I was right. We have the boat, and, after all, what more do we want? Pole easily, Dick, and keep an eye on those fellows. Ah, they seem to have run for it. We have nothing to fear from them at least.”They pushed their craft gently into the shallows, till they were almost beneath the trees. Then, giving one lusty push, Dick stepped over the side and waded, dragging the boat after him. A minute later both were ashore, and were inspecting the other craft.“We were just in time,” said Mr Pepson, in tones of the greatest satisfaction. “Another few minutes and they would have got clear away, and then good-bye to the expedition, for a time at any rate. Make her fast, Dick, and keep a watch ashore.”Well was it for both of them that Dick did as he was told. Indeed, from the moment at which he had leaped into the river and commenced to wade, his suspicions had kept him alert with his eyes fixed upon the jungle and bush into which the three dark figures had disappeared. And now he was to find good cause for his wariness, for, of a sudden, as Mr Pepson took the rope which was made fast to the bows of the runaway, and dragged it towards the craft in which they had undertaken the pursuit, a sharp sound came from the depths of the jungle. It was the snapping of a dried twig, a crisp and startling noise which caused both to look up suddenly.“They are not so far away, I think,” said Dick, in a low voice. “Wouldn’t it be better if we moved away, sir? We are in the full blaze of the moon’s rays here, while they are in the shadow. That’s how that robber managed to get away from me down at the coast.”Hardly had the words left his lips when a single shot rang out, startling the silence, while the flash of the weapon lit up the immediate surroundings of the bush, and showed a dozen dark figures perhaps, all in the act of running forward. Dick noticed that in the twinkling of an eye, and heard also the click of the missile as it struck a hanging bough some feet in front of him. Then there was a dull thud, that thud which in the old days of large calibre rifles and heavy bullets told unmistakably of a hit. A second later a heavy splash and a sickening gurgle told the young Englishman the horrid truth. His comrade had been struck and had fallen into the shallow water.It was a terrifying position, and for a second Dick stood rooted to the spot with consternation. Then his courage returned, and with the memory of that glimpse of charging figures which the flash of the rifle had given him, he stooped, clutched his fallen friend, and staggered to the boat. Half throwing him into it, he leaned across the thwarts, seized his rifle, and extracted a cartridge from the bag. He had still a moment to spare, for the patter of feet and the snap of many a twig told him that the enemy were not yet quite at hand.“They are bound to kill us both here in the light,” he thought, as the prominence of their position flashed across his brain. “I’ll get into the shadow.”He had always been noted for his agility, and on this fine night our hero surpassed himself. Fear gave him strength, or else he could hardly have lifted his comrade as he had done. And now the same stimulus seemed to have sharpened his wits. He leaped at the gunwale of the boat and pushed the craft into deeper water. Then with a parting thrust of his leg he scrambled aboard, while the boat, impelled by the push he had given it, shot across the moonlit shadows, and burst its way into the deep shade of an overhanging tree. Dick clutched a bough and arrested its further progress. Then leaning his shoulder against the same friendly limb of the tree, he raised the rifle to his shoulder. There was a chorus of loud shouts, the splash of many feet, and in a second ten dusky figures burst into the full light of the moon and rushed towards the tree which hid their quarry. Not till then did Dick fully realise his danger. He had imagined till now that his foes were natives from the river-banks, thieves who had come out to rob the expedition during the night. But there was one amongst the group charging down upon him who showed that he was mistaken. There was no chance of his being in error, for the brilliant moon lit the scene too well, and showed before him the half-caste James Langdon, who had so recently fled from the coast, carrying Dick’s store of gold with him.“Then he at least shall suffer now, whatever happens to the others,” exclaimed our hero. Lifting his weapon again he covered the half-caste, waited till he felt sure of his aim, and pressed the trigger. Once again there was a shout, and one of the unfortunate natives who aided the rascally half-caste, leaped high into the air to fall next instant with a splash into the water.“Rush! He is now unarmed! Cut the dog to pieces!” shouted James Langdon.There was an ugly gleam in the eyes of the robbers as they heard the shout, and slight though Dick’s knowledge was of the language of these Fantis, he recognised the meaning of the words. Quick as thought he threw his weapon down and drew his revolver. They were close to the tree now, and nothing but the darkness baffled them. But there was their disadvantage, and Dick made the most of it. Singling out the foremost he fired full in his face, and then, ere the report died down, pulled heavily on the bough and dragged himself and the native boat still farther into the shadow. A second later the weapon spoke again, and another of the miscreants fell. But still their commander urged them on.“Think of the rifles and other goods,” he shouted. “There is only one between you and the prize, and he is only a boy. Rush him! Cut him to the chin! Stand aside and I will lead you. Now, are all ready?”He turned to look at his men, and waved a native sword overhead to encourage them. Then he peered into the dense shadow and was in the very act of leading a final charge when there was a sudden and unexpected interruption. A single shot rang out from the river, while one of the enemy fell on his face in the water and disappeared from sight.“Ahoy! Mine friends! Are you zere?” came in the guttural tones of the Dutchman.“Fire on them,” shouted Dick, levelling his revolver again and sending a shot into the group. “Fire, Meinheer! Drive them off. Mr Pepson is badly wounded.”An instant later the nose of the steam launch shot into view, some fifty yards from the bank, and Dick caught a glimpse between the leaves of the big tree which sheltered him of the anxious face of Johnnie, peering from over the engine-well, and of the portly figure of the Dutchman, a portion of which was hidden by the cabin aft. He stood there prominent in the rays of the moon, a rifle in his hands, and his short sword attached to his side. Then, as his eye lit again on the group of natives, he lifted the weapon, and hardly had the report of Dick’s revolver died down when there was a flash, and the half-caste who had formerly robbed our hero, and who had now made such an artful attack upon the boats of the expedition, clapped his hand to his thigh and gave vent to a loud bellow. Then he turned and fired a shot at the Dutchman, a shot which flew past in the air, screaming and hissing towards the opposite bank of the river. But long before it could have reached that destination the robber had swung round on his heel, and with a shout of defiance had raced for the shadows. After him Dick sent the remainder of his magazine, while Meinheer Van Somering, when he had recovered from the consternation into which the shriek of the shot had thrown him, followed his example, much to our hero’s trepidation, for the bullets flew on either hand, cutting a shower of leaves from the trees.“Steady, Meinheer!” he shouted. “You will be hitting us soon. We are here under the tree. I had to seek shelter from the light, for they would have picked us off easily. Bring the launch in and I will wade out to you. I fear that Mr Pepson is seriously hurt.”Leaping overboard he pushed the boat clear of the tree and of the shadow, and soon had it alongside the launch, for the latter steamed gently into the shallows. Then the leader of the expedition was lifted aboard, the two boats were made fast to the stern of the steamer, and they pushed out into the stream.“Better make for the far shore,” said Dick. “Then we shall not be treated to long shots.”“Bud zese wicked robbers, Meinheer,” gasped the Dutchman. “Shall we led zem go free? Shall zey escape?”“We can do nothing more,” was Dick’s answer, given with decision. “They are gone long ago. The forest has swallowed those who are alive. Let them run, Meinheer, and do not trouble any more about them at the present time. To-morrow, when there is light, we will visit the bank again and see what has happened to them. For the moment let us look to Mr Pepson. Now, Johnnie, steer us for the far side, and when you reach the shadow, come to a stop just inside its edge. Whatever you do, keep steam up, and have the propeller just moving, so that we shall not be drifted down-stream. Now we will light the lamp and see to our friend.”Without hesitation he took the lead, now that Mr Pepson was incapacitated, for he realised in a moment that Meinheer Van Somering was not to be relied on in such an emergency. Indeed, he had been struck with amazement at the boldness already displayed by his stout friend, for who would have expected, knowing him as they did, that he would have dared to stand there so conspicuously on the deck of the launch and fire upon the robbers? Meinheer Van Somering had gone up in Dick’s estimation. He had proved that he had some store of courage after all. But he lacked self-control. At this moment when he should have been cool and thoughtful, for the danger had passed, he was tramping the deck from end to end, causing the stout launch to heel to either side. And every minute he would halt and stare at the forest which had just been left. At such moments his fist would close round his rifle, while his finger would feel for the trigger.“Mein word!” he cried. “Bud zey would have killed us! Zey were robbers and murderers. Ah! I shod two of zem. Meinheer Dick, you saw me do id.”“I saw,” growled our hero, “but we can talk of that later. Come and help with the lamp. Put your rifle down and leave the robbers to take care of themselves. Come, Meinheer, our comrade may be bleeding to death.”There was a tone of command now in his voice, and at the sound Meinheer dropped his weapon and came aft. Already Dick had been able to find the lamp, and just as the Dutchman reached him he struck a match and lit the wick of the candle.“Hold the lamp, please,” he said. “Higher, so that I can get a good view. Now, what has happened? I heard the bullet strike heavily. Ah! Thank heaven! He is alive.”“And zere, I zink, is ze wound. See, Meinheer Dick, zere is blood. Oh, mine poor friend! How he has been hurd!”“Higher!” commanded Dick, as the Dutchman, forgetful of his request, lowered the lamp. “That is right. Keep it there, please, till I have ripped the coat open. Ah, here is another wound in the head. That will account for his being insensible.”Together, the Dutchman’s tendency to undue excitement arrested by the coolness displayed by his young companion, they cut the shoulder of the coat away and inspected the wound. Then they went in search of bandages and dressings, for the thoughtful Mr Pepson had included a cabinet of drugs and instruments in the outfit of the expedition. Neither of the two friends who looked to the wounds had had previous experience, but common sense helped them, while the lamp allowed them to read the clearly printed directions contained in the cabinet. They bathed the wounds in the shoulder and the scalp, and applied the dressings. Then they put the arm in a sling, and placed it across the wounded man’s chest.“He is coming to,” said Dick, after a while. “We will give him a few drops of water. Hold his head so, Meinheer. Now I will pour a little between his lips.”An hour later their friend was conscious again, and was sitting up with his back leaning against the gunwale.“I feel dizzy and my head aches dreadfully,” he said, with a plucky smile. “Look in the cabinet, Dick, and you will find something there which will quiet me. Then perhaps I shall get to sleep and be myself to-morrow. Never fear, my friends. The wounds are not so serious, for the gash in my shoulder is merely a flesh wound, and the bone is quite uninjured. As to the scalp wound, I am a fortunate man. I think that the bullet must have glanced from a bough, for I heard a sound just before I was struck. Then it hit my shoulder, and as it flew on just touched my head, glancing from the bone, and hitting me hard enough to stun me. By the way, I was standing in the water. I suppose Dick pulled me out again? That is another debt I owe him.”“You ought to keep quiet,” was our hero’s answer, as he arrived with a bottle and a glass in his hand. “Here we are, sir. A teaspoonful in a little water, and then silence. There, drink it up, and sleep. We will look to the safety of the boats.”He held the glass to Mr Pepson’s lips and watched as he feebly drained it, for there was little doubt that the leader was sadly injured, and only his pluck had allowed him to chatter at all. However, he obediently drank the mixture, and seemed to be glad to settle down on the rug which the Dutchman produced. Another rug was thrown over him, a cushion placed under the wounded limb, and the lamp removed from before his eyes. Dick and Meinheer retired to the far end of the launch and stood there chatting in whispers, till, in less than half an hour, the deep breathing of the sufferer told that he was asleep.All this while the launch, with the boats trailing out behind her, lay in the dense shadow of the river-bank, her propeller barely moving, so that she just held her place in the river. Close at hand could be heard the murmur of the leaves in the forest, the chatter of monkeys, and the call of night birds, arrested a little while ago by the reports of the rifles. And on the other side a fine moonlit vista was displayed. The surface of the river Pra lay spread out in the rays of the pale African orb, while the water rippled and slid down toward the sea, seeming to be particularly peaceful on this lovely night. Looking at its shining surface, and at the wonderful lights and shadows beyond scattered along the face of the jungle, one almost wondered whether the coming of the robbers were not after all a dream. Whether murder and theft had, in fact, been attempted, and whether away on that far shore there actually lay the dark forms of the attacking natives who had lost their lives in the bold and dastardly attempt. But there could be no doubt. As Dick Stapleton stood in his shirt sleeves upon the roof of the tiny cabin, rifle in hand, and cartridge bag about his sturdy shoulders, his eager eyes searched every shadow, and followed every line of river and forest which was illuminated. Suddenly his arm shot out. His figure became rigid, while his finger pointed across the water.“There is one of the rascals, at any rate,” he said. “He has come to look to his comrades, and no doubt thinks that we are far away by now. See, Meinheer, I could pick him off from here as if he were a bird, and I should be justified. But that’s not the sort of game I like to play. They’re beaten. They’ve had a lesson, and I fancy Master James Langdon will remember it. As for us, I should say that we have had a very narrow escape.”There was a grunt of approval and acquiescence from Van Somering, a puff of smoke proceeded from his lips, and he growled out a reply.“Mein friend,” he said, in condescending tones, “we are conquerors, is id nod so? Zen zere is no need to kill more of zese men. Led zem go peacefully while we make ze mosd of ze nighd which remains. Meinheer, id is near ze hour of midnighd. Your wadch should commence now. I will sleeb, for I am weary.”He seemed to have forgotten the fact that it was his drowsiness which had almost brought disaster to the expedition, and that Dick’s watch should have commenced at nine and ended at twelve. With a grunt he rolled along the deck, leaving our hero in command of the situation.

“In a little while the sun will be down,” said Mr Pepson, as he sprawled on the deck of the steam launch that evening. “Then it will be dark in half an hour or less, and we shall have to think of setting a watch. Meinheer will take the first one. From seven to nine, Meinheer. Dick will follow from that hour till midnight, and I shall take the watch from the first moment of the new day till the light comes. That will be about three o’clock. Now let us get our supper.”

All day they had been steaming without adventure and without interruption up the broad sweep of the river Pra, seeing nothing to alarm them, and meeting with no difficulties. So far they had had plenty of water beneath their keels, and an ample space through which to steer. But there were signs that the river was narrowing, while all felt as if the forest was hemming them in.

“Zis is noding do whad we shall have soon,” the Dutchman said, with a wave of his arm. “Zis forest—I have been for some miles into him before, mine friends—sdredches for a long, long way. Id is tick, too. See how ze drees shood up close togeder. And watch below. Ze creepers are everywhere. Id would dake a day do cud a new road a mile long. Yes. Id is dense. Bud we shall have no drouble. Ze river dakes us do ze mine.”

“For which I am only too thankful,” added Mr Pepson. “Our journey should occupy but three days, or at the most four. If we had to march through the forest we should have to take an army of Fanti labourers to cut a road. And then think of the fever.”

“And of the machinery, too,” exclaimed Dick.

“Yes, that is another point,” agreed Mr Pepson. “This country has been noted for its gold for many years. The Ashantis have carried on a trade since they became a nation, and there is no doubt that there are vast natural stores. You may ask, why have others not attempted to open mines before this? They have done so. The beach at Elmina and at Cape Coast Castle is strewn with rusting machinery, which has been landed with a purpose, and then left to rot and rust simply because of the difficulty of transport, and because of this forest. Luckily for us our mine is near the river. But here’s supper. Sit down, Van Somering.”

It was delightful to be out there in the open, even though the air hummed with myriads of mosquitoes. The launch and her three consorts lay moored out in the stream some hundred yards or less from the left bank of the river. About them, but for the buzz of the insects and the ripple of the water, all was still and silent. Not a beast seemed to be stirring, while even aboard the boats all had settled down to rest. Johnnie, the stoker and driver, sat in the engine-well wiping his black hands after an inspection of the machinery, while the Fanti crew lay curled up in the bottom of the boats, two in each one, content with the world, waiting quietly for their evening meal. And now it was ready. With a broad grin Johnnie announced that the water boiled, while Dick, who had been superintending a dish of bacon which he had placed at the furnace door, sang out that it was done to a turn.

“Then I will make the coffee,” cried Mr Pepson. “Meinheer, see that the cloth is laid; and, Dick, steady with the bacon. We will start fair together.”

The cloth consisted of a sheet of newspaper, a very ancient London daily, which the Dutchman spread out on the deck. Plates were of enamelled iron—the class of ware to stand half a dozen campaigns—while mugs were of the same hardy material, and were apt to be used for soup or coffee, water or good wine, just as circumstances dictated. It was all very jolly. Thisal frescopicnic delighted Dick, and he set-to at the meal with gusto, apologising for his appetite.

“Id is goot! Id will make you grow sdoud, mine friend,” grunted Meinheer, in the midst of consuming a rasher. “Id will make you grow so big zad ze natives will zink you a gread man. See how zey dread me, Meinheer Van Somering!”

He looked down at his ample proportions with evident satisfaction, and then completed his attack upon the rasher.

“Do-nighd all will be quied, mine friends,” he went on. “I shall be on guard, and zese natives will not come. Perhaps lader zey will ask who we are. I will speak wiz zem. There will be no difficulty. Anozer rasher, Meinheer Dick.”

They ate till they were satisfied, for there was no reason to be careful with the rations, as they had an ample supply. The repast was ended with a second cup of steaming coffee, when the burly Dutchman produced a pipe of dimensions as ample as his own, and with a bowl which took quite a quantity of tobacco to fill it. Mr Pepson lighted up a cigar, while Dick produced a briar pipe. Then for some minutes there was silence between them, while the darkness deepened, and the cigar and the pipes shone redder and redder.

At length it was dark, so dark on the surface of the river that nothing was visible, and Dick could hardly see the figures of his comrades. But that was only for a little while. Soon a big pale, African moon got up, and, riding clear of the jungle, flooded the course of the river, the left bank near which the boats lay, and the tree-tops and jungle along that side. On the far bank all was densely dark, and no eye could penetrate the deep shadow which cloaked the dark and forbidding forest which stretched unbroken beside the Pra.

“Bed!” called out Mr Pepson, indulging in a yawn. “Meinheer, yours is the first watch. Wake Dick at nine. Good-night.”

“Good nighd, mine friends. Sleeb well, for I shall protect you.”

The Dutchman went aft to the tiny cabin, and fetched his rifle and a bag of cartridges. Then he seated himself upon the roof of the saloon, the rifle across his knees, and his pipe held firmly between his teeth.

Dick, too, was tired. It had been a long and interesting day, and he had watched the passing banks of the river till his eyes ached. Now he felt drowsy. He got up from the deck, stretched his arms and yawned, and then went off to the bows. A minute later he was wrapped in his blanket, which covered him from head to foot, his head was on a bag containing clothing, while his legs were stretched along the deck. Half an hour later he was asleep; all aboard, in fact, had turned in for their rest, save the solitary Dutchman, who still nursed his rifle, and puffed volumes of smoke from his lips without ceasing.

No wonder that Dick was charmed with this trip up-country. It appealed with all its force to a young fellow of his age. He revelled in the strangeness of the scenery, the dense, awe-inspiring forests, and all the teeming life hidden in their midst, and the silent, slow-flowing river. That evening, too, he had thought how beautiful it all was, and how peaceful. He had admired the cold rays of the moon, the sleepy boats lying beneath it, and the dark figures stretched out beneath the thwarts. He had listened, too, for a time to the music of the bush, which came now more loudly to his ear. There was the chatter of a regiment of monkeys, the call of night birds innumerable, and the droning hum of the insects. Ever and anon there came a deeper sound, as if from some beast wandering in search of its meal, while once, as he awoke and rose on his elbow, he caught sight of a graceful four-footed animal—a gazelle—tripping gently into the river to drink. After that he stretched out again, and, lulled by the droning sounds, slept deeply.

“What was that? Ah! that beast again!” he suddenly said in a whisper, as, some two hours later, he wakened with a start, only to close his eyes again, for he realised at once that the shriek he had heard was one which had often disturbed him at Cape Coast Castle—one which proceeded from the throat of a harmless forest animal.

“Hoot! Hoot! Hoot!”

“An owl now,” thought our hero, dreamily. “There it goes again, and quite close, too. Bother the bird!”

“Hoot! Hoot!”

This time Dick sat up on his elbow, and looked about him vainly for the bird. “Hoot! Hoot!” It came from his right, and he slowly turned his head in that direction. Then he did a curious thing. He lay flat of a sudden, and rubbed the sleep from his eyes vigorously.

“That’s rummy!” he murmured beneath his breath. “One of the boats has disappeared, and the others are moving away, and—what does it all mean?”

He rolled on to his back, lifted his head cautiously, and stared at the roof of the cabin. There was the figure of the Dutchman—immovable, looking fantastically huge, and sprawled out at full length. There was no pipe now to be seen, no smoke issued from his lips, while the rifle reposed beside him. Then came a deep, muffled snore. Meinheer Van Somering was asleep.

“Then there is some one near us,” said Dick, swiftly. “Some one is stealing the boats. I must act with caution.”

He had had experience of a midnight marauder before, and he determined on this occasion not to be so easily beaten. He rose to his knees, and crawled along the deck till he reached the Dutchman. A moment later he had the rifle in his hands, and had drawn back the lock. Click! At the crisp sound some one stirred. A dusky figure stood up on one of the boats close by, and commenced to pole lustily. Then a second stood erect, and Dick could hear the splash as his pole fell into the water.

“Stop!” he shouted. “Bring that boat back, or I fire!”

He covered the nearest figure with his weapon, and waited, while his shout was followed immediately by a scuffling behind him, and by the almost instant appearance of Mr Pepson. The latter seemed to take in the position at a glance. His eye detected the boat now so far away, the two remaining ones being poled by the two dark figures, and the huge, lumbering body of the Dutchman, still motionless and asleep.

“Shoot,” he said, quietly.

Dick lifted the weapon again, sighted for his man, and fired. There was a loud shriek, and hardly had the echo of the shot died down when a splash told that the bullet had reached. But our hero was not content. He stretched for the bag, snatched another cartridge, and, having placed it in the rifle, covered the second man. However there was no need to fire, for a second splash told that the miscreant, warned by the fate of his comrade, had leaped overboard.

“What has happened?” demanded Mr Pepson, sharply, but with no trace of excitement in his voice. “You were asleep, for it is barely half-past eight. You found our watchman also asleep, and the boats departing. Did you see any one else?”

“No one,” answered Dick, promptly. “But there must be one other at least. Look! There is a man poling the far boat.”

“And he is too far away for a shot now. I might hit him, but the light is deceptive.”

“Then why not follow sir?” exclaimed Dick. “Johnnie banked the fires, and in a few minutes there should be steam. That boat won’t have a chance. We shall be up with her before she can get far.”

“But not before our goods are stolen. No, we will give chase in one of the other boats,” said Mr Pepson, with decision. “Meinheer, bring the steamer along at once. Dick and I will follow.”

Already he was throwing off the hawser which held the anchor, and, as he did so, Dick seized a pole. A few strokes took the launch close to the moving boats which had been so silently set adrift.

“Hold on, Johnnie, and you too, Meinheer,” called out Mr Pepson. “Now, Dick, get aboard with the gun, and I’ll follow with another. We’ll make one boat fast and pole the other down.”

He ran along the deck of the launch, while Dick leaped into one of the native craft, two of which remained lashed side by side, and were floating away together. Suddenly a thought occurred to him. He sprang back into the launch, seized the bag of cartridges, and satisfying himself that it was well filled, slung it over his shoulder and again sprang into the native boat.

“Better get all ready for the pursuit,” he said to himself. “I’ll set the two boats free, and toss the end of a rope attached to one to Meinheer. He can make it fast aft and follow with the boat in tow.”

He fell upon the lashings with eagerness, and when Mr Pepson appeared from the cabin, carrying a rifle, Dick had the two boats separated, and had tossed a rope attached to one to the Dutchman.

“Catch, Meinheer!” he shouted, for the burly Dutchman, since he had become fully awake, seemed to be endeavouring to collect his wits. The report of the rifle had brought him languidly to his feet, and now he stared at his two comrades in amazement, wholly unable to understand the need for such bustling, or for so much excitement.

“Bud whad is zis?” he demanded. “Is id ze middle of ze nighd, or—whad?”

“It means that you’ve been asleep when you ought to have been keeping watch,” answered Mr Pepson, bluntly. “Some thieves have cut our boats adrift, and one is being poled away. Don’t stare, Meinheer. Take the rope Dick has thrown and make it fast. Then follow as soon as you have steam. Johnnie, get that fire to blaze.”

He stepped into the native craft and took the pole which Dick offered him.

“Ready?” asked Dick.

A loud splash was the only answer, as Mr Pepson let his pole fall into the water. Dick followed suit, and in a little while they were shooting down the river, which in these parts was sufficiently shallow to allow of poling.

“Keep her in near the bank, sir,” sang out Dick. “It gets deeper out there, and I’ve noticed that the fellow who is poling is sometimes unable to bottom. We are getting nearer already. Can we try a shot?”

“Wait,” was the answer. “We have him in any case. He cannot escape us, and if we only keep him in sight he cannot take our goods. Keep on as we are till we are certain of a shot. If he tries to make to the opposite shore, where all is dense shadow, we will drop our poles and fire together.”

Ten minutes later they had overhauled the runaway to some extent, and when half an hour had passed they judged that they were within easy distance.

“Try a shot,” said Mr Pepson. “Your young eyes are better than mine. Don’t hesitate, my lad. These fellows are rogues and would kill us without a thought. We must teach them a lesson.”

Till that moment our hero would not have thought of hesitating, for he had felt the excitement of the chase, and he realised that he had to do with robbers who no doubt would have no scruples in killing him were he to come upon them. But just then the excitement had lessened somewhat. They were overhauling the chase without a doubt, and the figure poling the runaway boat looked so harmless there in the moonlight. Also he appeared to be unarmed. However, an order was an order, and his duty was plain. He dropped his pole into the bottom of the boat, picked up his rifle, and took a careful sight.

“Sight about the middle of his body—no higher,” said Mr Pepson. “That should find a mark.”

Crash! The report of the rifle set the jungle ringing, while it reverberated along the still surface of the river. Then came a shriek, followed by a shout from the shore. The native who poled the boat staggered and almost fell. Then he recovered himself, answered the shout from the shore, and in an instant had swung the boat’s head round in that direction.

“We have him sure enough,” cried Mr Pepson, for the first time showing some trace of excitement. “He is making for the moonlit side, and cannot escape. At least, the boat and its freight are ours again. Drop the rifle and take to the pole.”

They plunged their long poles into the water and sent the craft dancing after the other. But quick as they were, the boat in advance seemed to shoot across the moonlit stretch, and rapidly gained the bank. Again there was a shout, a dark figure ran out into the river, splashing the water loudly. Then a second followed, while the native who had been aboard threw his pole aside and staggered ashore.

“Heavily hit,” gasped Mr Pepson, for the exertion of poling was beginning to tell upon him. “But I was right. We have the boat, and, after all, what more do we want? Pole easily, Dick, and keep an eye on those fellows. Ah, they seem to have run for it. We have nothing to fear from them at least.”

They pushed their craft gently into the shallows, till they were almost beneath the trees. Then, giving one lusty push, Dick stepped over the side and waded, dragging the boat after him. A minute later both were ashore, and were inspecting the other craft.

“We were just in time,” said Mr Pepson, in tones of the greatest satisfaction. “Another few minutes and they would have got clear away, and then good-bye to the expedition, for a time at any rate. Make her fast, Dick, and keep a watch ashore.”

Well was it for both of them that Dick did as he was told. Indeed, from the moment at which he had leaped into the river and commenced to wade, his suspicions had kept him alert with his eyes fixed upon the jungle and bush into which the three dark figures had disappeared. And now he was to find good cause for his wariness, for, of a sudden, as Mr Pepson took the rope which was made fast to the bows of the runaway, and dragged it towards the craft in which they had undertaken the pursuit, a sharp sound came from the depths of the jungle. It was the snapping of a dried twig, a crisp and startling noise which caused both to look up suddenly.

“They are not so far away, I think,” said Dick, in a low voice. “Wouldn’t it be better if we moved away, sir? We are in the full blaze of the moon’s rays here, while they are in the shadow. That’s how that robber managed to get away from me down at the coast.”

Hardly had the words left his lips when a single shot rang out, startling the silence, while the flash of the weapon lit up the immediate surroundings of the bush, and showed a dozen dark figures perhaps, all in the act of running forward. Dick noticed that in the twinkling of an eye, and heard also the click of the missile as it struck a hanging bough some feet in front of him. Then there was a dull thud, that thud which in the old days of large calibre rifles and heavy bullets told unmistakably of a hit. A second later a heavy splash and a sickening gurgle told the young Englishman the horrid truth. His comrade had been struck and had fallen into the shallow water.

It was a terrifying position, and for a second Dick stood rooted to the spot with consternation. Then his courage returned, and with the memory of that glimpse of charging figures which the flash of the rifle had given him, he stooped, clutched his fallen friend, and staggered to the boat. Half throwing him into it, he leaned across the thwarts, seized his rifle, and extracted a cartridge from the bag. He had still a moment to spare, for the patter of feet and the snap of many a twig told him that the enemy were not yet quite at hand.

“They are bound to kill us both here in the light,” he thought, as the prominence of their position flashed across his brain. “I’ll get into the shadow.”

He had always been noted for his agility, and on this fine night our hero surpassed himself. Fear gave him strength, or else he could hardly have lifted his comrade as he had done. And now the same stimulus seemed to have sharpened his wits. He leaped at the gunwale of the boat and pushed the craft into deeper water. Then with a parting thrust of his leg he scrambled aboard, while the boat, impelled by the push he had given it, shot across the moonlit shadows, and burst its way into the deep shade of an overhanging tree. Dick clutched a bough and arrested its further progress. Then leaning his shoulder against the same friendly limb of the tree, he raised the rifle to his shoulder. There was a chorus of loud shouts, the splash of many feet, and in a second ten dusky figures burst into the full light of the moon and rushed towards the tree which hid their quarry. Not till then did Dick fully realise his danger. He had imagined till now that his foes were natives from the river-banks, thieves who had come out to rob the expedition during the night. But there was one amongst the group charging down upon him who showed that he was mistaken. There was no chance of his being in error, for the brilliant moon lit the scene too well, and showed before him the half-caste James Langdon, who had so recently fled from the coast, carrying Dick’s store of gold with him.

“Then he at least shall suffer now, whatever happens to the others,” exclaimed our hero. Lifting his weapon again he covered the half-caste, waited till he felt sure of his aim, and pressed the trigger. Once again there was a shout, and one of the unfortunate natives who aided the rascally half-caste, leaped high into the air to fall next instant with a splash into the water.

“Rush! He is now unarmed! Cut the dog to pieces!” shouted James Langdon.

There was an ugly gleam in the eyes of the robbers as they heard the shout, and slight though Dick’s knowledge was of the language of these Fantis, he recognised the meaning of the words. Quick as thought he threw his weapon down and drew his revolver. They were close to the tree now, and nothing but the darkness baffled them. But there was their disadvantage, and Dick made the most of it. Singling out the foremost he fired full in his face, and then, ere the report died down, pulled heavily on the bough and dragged himself and the native boat still farther into the shadow. A second later the weapon spoke again, and another of the miscreants fell. But still their commander urged them on.

“Think of the rifles and other goods,” he shouted. “There is only one between you and the prize, and he is only a boy. Rush him! Cut him to the chin! Stand aside and I will lead you. Now, are all ready?”

He turned to look at his men, and waved a native sword overhead to encourage them. Then he peered into the dense shadow and was in the very act of leading a final charge when there was a sudden and unexpected interruption. A single shot rang out from the river, while one of the enemy fell on his face in the water and disappeared from sight.

“Ahoy! Mine friends! Are you zere?” came in the guttural tones of the Dutchman.

“Fire on them,” shouted Dick, levelling his revolver again and sending a shot into the group. “Fire, Meinheer! Drive them off. Mr Pepson is badly wounded.”

An instant later the nose of the steam launch shot into view, some fifty yards from the bank, and Dick caught a glimpse between the leaves of the big tree which sheltered him of the anxious face of Johnnie, peering from over the engine-well, and of the portly figure of the Dutchman, a portion of which was hidden by the cabin aft. He stood there prominent in the rays of the moon, a rifle in his hands, and his short sword attached to his side. Then, as his eye lit again on the group of natives, he lifted the weapon, and hardly had the report of Dick’s revolver died down when there was a flash, and the half-caste who had formerly robbed our hero, and who had now made such an artful attack upon the boats of the expedition, clapped his hand to his thigh and gave vent to a loud bellow. Then he turned and fired a shot at the Dutchman, a shot which flew past in the air, screaming and hissing towards the opposite bank of the river. But long before it could have reached that destination the robber had swung round on his heel, and with a shout of defiance had raced for the shadows. After him Dick sent the remainder of his magazine, while Meinheer Van Somering, when he had recovered from the consternation into which the shriek of the shot had thrown him, followed his example, much to our hero’s trepidation, for the bullets flew on either hand, cutting a shower of leaves from the trees.

“Steady, Meinheer!” he shouted. “You will be hitting us soon. We are here under the tree. I had to seek shelter from the light, for they would have picked us off easily. Bring the launch in and I will wade out to you. I fear that Mr Pepson is seriously hurt.”

Leaping overboard he pushed the boat clear of the tree and of the shadow, and soon had it alongside the launch, for the latter steamed gently into the shallows. Then the leader of the expedition was lifted aboard, the two boats were made fast to the stern of the steamer, and they pushed out into the stream.

“Better make for the far shore,” said Dick. “Then we shall not be treated to long shots.”

“Bud zese wicked robbers, Meinheer,” gasped the Dutchman. “Shall we led zem go free? Shall zey escape?”

“We can do nothing more,” was Dick’s answer, given with decision. “They are gone long ago. The forest has swallowed those who are alive. Let them run, Meinheer, and do not trouble any more about them at the present time. To-morrow, when there is light, we will visit the bank again and see what has happened to them. For the moment let us look to Mr Pepson. Now, Johnnie, steer us for the far side, and when you reach the shadow, come to a stop just inside its edge. Whatever you do, keep steam up, and have the propeller just moving, so that we shall not be drifted down-stream. Now we will light the lamp and see to our friend.”

Without hesitation he took the lead, now that Mr Pepson was incapacitated, for he realised in a moment that Meinheer Van Somering was not to be relied on in such an emergency. Indeed, he had been struck with amazement at the boldness already displayed by his stout friend, for who would have expected, knowing him as they did, that he would have dared to stand there so conspicuously on the deck of the launch and fire upon the robbers? Meinheer Van Somering had gone up in Dick’s estimation. He had proved that he had some store of courage after all. But he lacked self-control. At this moment when he should have been cool and thoughtful, for the danger had passed, he was tramping the deck from end to end, causing the stout launch to heel to either side. And every minute he would halt and stare at the forest which had just been left. At such moments his fist would close round his rifle, while his finger would feel for the trigger.

“Mein word!” he cried. “Bud zey would have killed us! Zey were robbers and murderers. Ah! I shod two of zem. Meinheer Dick, you saw me do id.”

“I saw,” growled our hero, “but we can talk of that later. Come and help with the lamp. Put your rifle down and leave the robbers to take care of themselves. Come, Meinheer, our comrade may be bleeding to death.”

There was a tone of command now in his voice, and at the sound Meinheer dropped his weapon and came aft. Already Dick had been able to find the lamp, and just as the Dutchman reached him he struck a match and lit the wick of the candle.

“Hold the lamp, please,” he said. “Higher, so that I can get a good view. Now, what has happened? I heard the bullet strike heavily. Ah! Thank heaven! He is alive.”

“And zere, I zink, is ze wound. See, Meinheer Dick, zere is blood. Oh, mine poor friend! How he has been hurd!”

“Higher!” commanded Dick, as the Dutchman, forgetful of his request, lowered the lamp. “That is right. Keep it there, please, till I have ripped the coat open. Ah, here is another wound in the head. That will account for his being insensible.”

Together, the Dutchman’s tendency to undue excitement arrested by the coolness displayed by his young companion, they cut the shoulder of the coat away and inspected the wound. Then they went in search of bandages and dressings, for the thoughtful Mr Pepson had included a cabinet of drugs and instruments in the outfit of the expedition. Neither of the two friends who looked to the wounds had had previous experience, but common sense helped them, while the lamp allowed them to read the clearly printed directions contained in the cabinet. They bathed the wounds in the shoulder and the scalp, and applied the dressings. Then they put the arm in a sling, and placed it across the wounded man’s chest.

“He is coming to,” said Dick, after a while. “We will give him a few drops of water. Hold his head so, Meinheer. Now I will pour a little between his lips.”

An hour later their friend was conscious again, and was sitting up with his back leaning against the gunwale.

“I feel dizzy and my head aches dreadfully,” he said, with a plucky smile. “Look in the cabinet, Dick, and you will find something there which will quiet me. Then perhaps I shall get to sleep and be myself to-morrow. Never fear, my friends. The wounds are not so serious, for the gash in my shoulder is merely a flesh wound, and the bone is quite uninjured. As to the scalp wound, I am a fortunate man. I think that the bullet must have glanced from a bough, for I heard a sound just before I was struck. Then it hit my shoulder, and as it flew on just touched my head, glancing from the bone, and hitting me hard enough to stun me. By the way, I was standing in the water. I suppose Dick pulled me out again? That is another debt I owe him.”

“You ought to keep quiet,” was our hero’s answer, as he arrived with a bottle and a glass in his hand. “Here we are, sir. A teaspoonful in a little water, and then silence. There, drink it up, and sleep. We will look to the safety of the boats.”

He held the glass to Mr Pepson’s lips and watched as he feebly drained it, for there was little doubt that the leader was sadly injured, and only his pluck had allowed him to chatter at all. However, he obediently drank the mixture, and seemed to be glad to settle down on the rug which the Dutchman produced. Another rug was thrown over him, a cushion placed under the wounded limb, and the lamp removed from before his eyes. Dick and Meinheer retired to the far end of the launch and stood there chatting in whispers, till, in less than half an hour, the deep breathing of the sufferer told that he was asleep.

All this while the launch, with the boats trailing out behind her, lay in the dense shadow of the river-bank, her propeller barely moving, so that she just held her place in the river. Close at hand could be heard the murmur of the leaves in the forest, the chatter of monkeys, and the call of night birds, arrested a little while ago by the reports of the rifles. And on the other side a fine moonlit vista was displayed. The surface of the river Pra lay spread out in the rays of the pale African orb, while the water rippled and slid down toward the sea, seeming to be particularly peaceful on this lovely night. Looking at its shining surface, and at the wonderful lights and shadows beyond scattered along the face of the jungle, one almost wondered whether the coming of the robbers were not after all a dream. Whether murder and theft had, in fact, been attempted, and whether away on that far shore there actually lay the dark forms of the attacking natives who had lost their lives in the bold and dastardly attempt. But there could be no doubt. As Dick Stapleton stood in his shirt sleeves upon the roof of the tiny cabin, rifle in hand, and cartridge bag about his sturdy shoulders, his eager eyes searched every shadow, and followed every line of river and forest which was illuminated. Suddenly his arm shot out. His figure became rigid, while his finger pointed across the water.

“There is one of the rascals, at any rate,” he said. “He has come to look to his comrades, and no doubt thinks that we are far away by now. See, Meinheer, I could pick him off from here as if he were a bird, and I should be justified. But that’s not the sort of game I like to play. They’re beaten. They’ve had a lesson, and I fancy Master James Langdon will remember it. As for us, I should say that we have had a very narrow escape.”

There was a grunt of approval and acquiescence from Van Somering, a puff of smoke proceeded from his lips, and he growled out a reply.

“Mein friend,” he said, in condescending tones, “we are conquerors, is id nod so? Zen zere is no need to kill more of zese men. Led zem go peacefully while we make ze mosd of ze nighd which remains. Meinheer, id is near ze hour of midnighd. Your wadch should commence now. I will sleeb, for I am weary.”

He seemed to have forgotten the fact that it was his drowsiness which had almost brought disaster to the expedition, and that Dick’s watch should have commenced at nine and ended at twelve. With a grunt he rolled along the deck, leaving our hero in command of the situation.

Chapter Five.A Question of Importance.Dick shivered and fidgeted. He tapped the deck gently with his toe, and then got up and clambered to the roof of the tiny cabin again, for he was ill at ease. It was not the chill air of the early morning which made his blood run cold, nor the damp mist which rose on every side from river and jungle, from the stagnant pools lying amidst the roots of giant trees and boulders, and from the mossy margins of the stream, where the eddies played, and the current was still. It was neither of these, for there was no chill in the heart of this African country. The morning was almost as stiflingly hot as the night had been, though the green of the leaves, and the shimmer of the river surface as it met his eye through the thin mist, looked cool and refreshing. Dick was uneasy in his mind. As he had sat the hours of darkness through his thoughts had been busy. Remorse, anguish, bitter self-condemnation had come in turn to torture his mind, and now, as the darkness waned and the light increased, he was constantly on the move, searching the river-bank on the far side.“There! Yes, that is the tree,” he said, as he pointed to the bush beyond. “I can recognise it, and beneath it lie those poor fellows. I killed them! They are stretched out there cold and stiff, those whom the water does not cover. Oh, it is awful to think about.”He wrung his hands, while there was a look of anguish on his usually jolly face. Had James Langdon, the rascal who had made the attack in the night which had just passed, been able to see him he would have laughed, for this sturdy young Englishman, looking so strong and active on this early morning, would hardly have dared to lift his rifle. He was suffering the torment of mind which has come to many a thousand young warriors before him. Not because he wished it, but owing to pure accident, he had the blood of fellow beings on his hands. He had killed men. He had seen them fall. He remembered the horrid gurgling sound made by the unhappy wretch who had fallen into the water and sunk to the mud. The hideous noise had haunted him the night through, so that he was unmanned and shivering. His fists were clenched, and his teeth held tight together.“I killed them,” he murmured.“And they have themselves to thank,” said a voice at his elbow. “So that’s how the wind blows! Our gallant young agent would rather fall himself and see his comrades massacred than fire on rascals who were ready to murder all. No! No, I did not mean that, my lad. But—look here!”It was Mr Pepson, standing there on the deck as erect as ever, as if he had received no wound, though the bandages about his head and his shoulder and the blood-stains upon them, showed that he undoubtedly had. But Dick had begun to discover some unsuspected points about this employer of his, and had come to the conclusion that he was possessed of no ordinary pluck and go, though he showed it in his own quiet and unassuming manner, and, in addition, that thin and cadaverous though he seemed to be, yet this trader from Sierra Leone was as hard as nails. He stared at him in amazement, and then flushed at his words.“Why, you ought to be wrapped in your rug!” he exclaimed sharply. “You are hurt, and need a little nursing.”“A mere scratch—a flea-bite, I assure you. I have had many worse before this, as you may learn when I tell you a little of my life’s history. But speaking of rugs. That’s what you want, my lad, and a good talking-to besides. Now, listen to me, Dick. I don’t blame you, nor do I smile at your thoughts and feelings, for every decent fellow has them. I remember a ruffian who thought to rob me in South America, many years ago. Yes, I was a youngster little older than you are. I shot him dead, and lay down beside him through the night, because that was the safest place. When the sun came up and showed me that I was alone and that there was no more trouble to fear, I looked at that poor fellow. He was lying on his back, his legs curled up beneath him, and his hands stretched out as if he were asleep. But his white face and the pool beside him told me the awful truth. I bolted. I ran away, Dick. I felt like a murderer, and for days wondered whether I should be tracked. Then I saw the other side. A rancher took me in hand, just as I am doing with you, and he made me see the right side. Why, bless me, the world is filled with honest people and with rogues, and the latter prey upon their fellows. Are the honest men to put up with robbery and violence? Did you agree so easily to James Langdon’s taking your gold? Did you? Come, answer the question.”Dick was cornered, and began to see the other side of the matter. The sun was coming up, too, and the damp mist was already beginning to disappear. Our surroundings often have an immense effect upon the brightness or otherwise of our thoughts, and our hero, usually so jolly and so genial, had felt the depression common to many who keep watch alone during the dark hours after an action.“Of course I didn’t,” he answered. “I tried to shoot him, just as I did last night, and he would have richly deserved his fate.”“Quite so. And these rascals last night deserved theirs, without a doubt. It happened that you were the one to stand between them and their wishes, and they did their utmost to remove you. Theirs was might against right, and right prevailed. They paid the penalty, and here are you grieving because all has happened as it should. Come. No more of this nonsense! Tell me about the action, for, remember, after the moment when we set foot ashore, I know nothing, save that I found myself aboard this launch, with you and Meinheer staring into my face. That reminds me. Where is our fine friend? A precious mess his laziness got us into last night.”“Turned in and snoring,” said Dick. “Listen!”Above the ripple of the water and the sough of the wind in the trees the sounds proceeding from the nose of the Dutchman could be distinctly heard.“He must have his sleep,” laughed Mr Pepson. “Did I not tell you that we must needs rely upon ourselves for protection? He is made for commerce, not for warfare.”“And yet he did well last night. I’ll tell you what happened.”They sat down on the tiny roof while Dick told how the bullet had struck his friend, and how the flash had showed him a dozen men rushing down upon them.“That was an awkward position,” interrupted his friend. “I understand that I was lying in the water. Covered, in fact?”There was a queer little smile on his lips, and he looked swiftly into Dick’s honest and open face.“Yes. You had gone below the surface. I was stunned by the mishap. I thought it was all up with us.”“With me, you mean. You could have bolted. The boat was close at hand.”Dick flushed to the roots of his hair, and tore his hat from his head as if the weight troubled him. He stared at Mr Pepson in amazement, and then, seeing the smile, smiled back at him.“You are chaffing me,” he said. “Trying to humbug me. You know well enough that no decent fellow would do that. You wouldn’t. I wasn’t going to desert a comrade who was down and helpless, particularly when there were such ruffians about. So I set to work as quickly as possible.”“You made up your mind to see the business through?”“Yes. I was staggered at first. Then I caught you up, not too gently, I fear, and dumped you into the boat. After that I pushed her out and shoved off into the shadow of the trees.”“Why? What was your reason?”Mr Pepson was like an inquisitor. He still smiled the same little smile, and still treated his agent to an occasional flash of his brilliant eyes, as if he would probe him to the utmost depth.“My reason? Oh, we were in the light, you see. The moon was up, and the beggars could pot us easily. They had guns, remember, else you would not have been hit. I reckoned—all of a sudden—I don’t know how it was, quite—that we should be safer there, and so into the shadow I went. Then they occupied our position. I could see to shoot, while they were bothered. Still, they made a fine rush, and things began to look ugly when the launch came into view. Our friend showed his mettle, for he fired at once, and his shot practically ended the engagement. Then we steamed off, and, and—”“And here we are. And I owe you a life again, Master Dick. Very good. No, I won’t say a word more, save that you tackled the task well. It was an ugly position and you seem to have chosen the only way out. I’m glad, too, that Meinheer put a spoke in their wheel. Now do me the favour of dressing these wounds again, and then we will breakfast. Get the bandages and a looking-glass, for then I shall be able to see the hurts myself, and give an opinion. You see, I am a bit of a surgeon.”At this moment the blanket beneath which the ample figure of the Dutchman was shrouded stirred and was thrown back, and very soon, yawning and stretching his arms, Meinheer came along the deck. By then Dick had the bandages and fresh dressings, as well as a bowl of water, drawn from the river, and some clean linen to act as a sponge. How different, how lighthearted he looked, for, thanks to his chat with Mr Pepson, and to the other’s common sense, all his worries were dispelled, and he saw things with an eye which was not jaundiced. He had, in fact, reached the stage at which others in a similar position had arrived before. He could see that killing was not a joyous trade, that no ordinary human being lightly undertook it, and only when circumstances made it imperative that he should act so as to protect his own life and that of his friend. Then there was no blame to be attached to the one who had shed the blood of his fellow, so long as he was not a wanton aggressor.“Here we are,” he called out as he came along. “Good day, Meinheer. Hold the bowl, please, while I get the bandages undone. Ah, here’s the pin. Now, sit up, sir. That’s right. We’ll have it done in a jiffy.”Very carefully and skilfully he unwrapped the bandages, and presently the dressing was removed from the shoulder. Mr Pepson lifted the glass, arranged it so that he could obtain a clear view, and then grunted.“Humph!” he said, with one of his inscrutable smiles. “A mere scratch. Take the probe, Dick. Now dip it into that other bowl which has the carbolic in it. That’s the way. Gently put it into the wound. No. Don’t be nervous. I’ll soon shout if it hurts. Press gently towards the other place where the bullet came out. Hah! A mere flesh wound, barely an inch deep. Not even that. I’m lucky! The shoulder is scarcely stiff, and a little rest in a sling will put it right in a week. A schoolboy would laugh at it. Put on fresh dressings and we’ll inspect the head. Lucky that I’m such a surgeon!”He was as cheery as possible, and thanks to his lightheartedness his friends, who had been looking on and helping in the task with some misgivings, began to feel that their comrade was, after all, not so badly hurt.“I tell you that it was only the crack on my skull that mattered,” persisted Mr Pepson. “The bullet slipped through my shoulder, a mere wound of the cuticle, and then happened to glance against my scalp and skull. A man can’t stand that. It knocks him stupid. That’s why I fell, and that’s why our young friend had to help me. But it doesn’t explain why he—a mere youngster—pulled me through so well, and why he stuck to me when many another would have bolted to save his own skin. Heh? What did you say, Meinheer?”“Zat we hab a drasure. Zat Meinheer Dick will be a gread man one of zese days. When he is big like me, when he has grown fine and dall, and, and—ah, yes, sdoud, you call him; yes, when he is sdoud, then he will be one gread, fine man. And he is brave! Yes, I see zad with half one eye, for a brave man knows when he meeds one of ze same.”“Quite so, Meinheer,” answered Mr Pepson, dryly. “Which reminds me. Dick says that you fired in the nick of time, and turned the tide of the battle. It was a good shot. You did well, and Johnnie also, to bring up the launch just then. But stand aside a little and give me the glass. Hah! Looks nasty, doesn’t it, Dick,” he went on, as the wound on his scalp was exposed, and he noticed our hero wince and turn a little pale at the sight. “Come, come! Looks are the worst part of it. Bathe the wound and cover it again. An Irishman would not give it a second thought. I haven’t even a headache.”He rose to his feet when the dressing was completed, and walked up and down the deck, looking perhaps a little more sallow than usual. But his spirits were not in the least damped or downcast. Indeed, his two companions had yet to learn that their leader was, in his quiet way, a remarkable man. As hard as nails, as Dick had already observed, cool and courageous, and possessed of a dogged nature which defied the utmost fatigue, which laughed, or rather smiled only, at danger, and which made light of any wound. Meanwhile, Dick and Johnnie were engaged at the furnace door, and presently the aroma of coffee came to the nostrils of the leader and the Dutchman, causing the latter to turn an eager and expectant gaze in that direction.“By Jobe!” he cried, “bud zad is a scend zad is goat, yes, ver goot. Whad shall we ead zis day?”His question was answered almost at once, for Johnnie came along the deck bearing a steaming dish, Dick following with the coffee and biscuit. The newspaper was again spread on the roof of the cabin, and all set to work with eagerness.“And now for future movements. We are a day’s journey from the mouth of the river, and three from the mine,” said Mr Pepson. “The question is whether we should push on alone as we are, or whether we should return. There is no doubt that all our Fanti men were in league with these robbers, and left us at the first opportunity.”“And would do the same again,” Dick ventured. “If we returned for a second crew, who is to guarantee that they will not behave in a similar manner?”“That is the very point. We should run that danger. What are your views about this attack during the night?”He swung round on his elbow and looked keenly at our hero.“You saw them,” he said. “This precious rascal nearly shot you. How much has he had to do with the matter?”“More than any one, I think,” was Dick’s answer. “I believe him to be a thorough rogue, and in league with the Ashantis. Inquiries which I made at Cape Coast Castle convinced me that he had been engaged on many occasions in running guns and ammunition to the coast, and sending them up-country. Well, we have heard that there is trouble brewing. The natives at Elmina are in almost open insurrection. Murders have been committed under the eyes of the garrison, and a few white men carried off. In addition, there are tidings that parties of Ashanti warriors are in the neighbourhood of the Pra. It is my opinion that this James Langdon is their spy, that he is watching for them and sending news of the doings at Elmina and Cape Coast Castle to King Koffee. That would have brought him tidings of our expedition, for all in Elmina and along the coast knew of our intentions—”“While the king of the Ashantis had given us the concession, and had promised that we should be protected,” interposed Mr Pepson. “Not that I will trust his sable majesty’s word. The best protection that we can have will be our rifles. But I interrupted. You think—?”“That this James Langdon is a spy, and that while engaged in that work he has time to see to other matters. The cargo we carry is valuable. If he could have taken the boats the expedition would have been ruined, and we should have had to return. Then, too, we do not know how much more ambitious the scheme of last night’s attack may have been. They may have arranged to steal the boats and make sure of their prize, then to return and cut our throats. There were sufficient of them, and I fancy that what James Langdon would willingly do, the others would also carry out.”“Precisely. They would hack us all to pieces. Never you hesitate again to shoot, my lad. Where such rascals have to be dealt with it is as well to press a trigger without delay, remembering that the man who hesitates very often is killed before he has another chance. And you think that this ruffian has been on the lookout for us, and that we are not only fortunate in having our goods secure, but also in having our lives? I believe it. I think the fellow would willingly have had a little private revenge with his booty. He has his knife in you, Dick, because you were the first to discover him, and he will not be more friendly disposed to us, for we are whites, and he is an outcast. To return to the subject of Elmina. I heard about the natives. Perhaps Meinheer can tell us more.”“Zey are pigs, I dell you. Mein word! Bud do you know zis, mine ver good friend? Zese blacks were once servands. Zey would run, and quick, when ze order was give. Now—now zere is no ordering zem. Zed do nod move. Zey glare ad me, ad me, Meinheer Van Somering. Zey used to sdand and shake, so”—the burly Dutchman let his knees knock together, while he trembled till his fat cheeks quivered—“ver good, now zey laugh, yes zey laugh and run away.”“All of which points to disaffection and probable mutiny,” said Mr Pepson. “Then it is clear that a second crew from Elmina would be worse than useless. We shall have dangers to face. We can well do that alone.”“While I am sure that we can manage the launch and the boats, particularly if we tie up before it is dark, and then change our position once the night has fallen.”“A brilliant idea, Dick, and we will carry it out. Once at the stockade I shall have no fear, for the men are Ashanti gold-diggers, who are not much given to fighting. There are a dozen of them, and I think their loyalty can be controlled by the prospect of gold. You see, they are paid a percentage of what they recover from the soil. Yes, we will push on up-stream and avoid another attack. If there is a moon again we will keep on during the night. Now about those fellows over there. We must go across and see how many are killed, and if any are still living. Meinheer, what do you say?”The Dutchman did not reply hastily, for he was considering the danger of such an expedition. However, in his heart of hearts, Meinheer was a humane man when his fears were quieted, and he argued that here there could be no danger.“Good. We will go, Meinheer,” he said. “Ze sooner ze bedder.”“And as I am the lightest and perhaps the most active, I will land,” added Dick. “Then, in case of an attack, you two can cover me with your rifles. There is no trusting these rascals, particularly when James Langdon commands them.”A few minutes later the remains of the breakfast had been cleared away, and while the trio smoked their pipes and chatted, Johnnie stoked the furnace, throwing coal upon it till 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 about. They were all undoubtedly dead, and a glance satisfied him of that fact. At once he went on towards the bush, which at this point receded somewhat from the river, and presently something attracted his eye. It was a path leading into the forest, a path freshly broken and trodden, the one, no doubt, by which the robbers had fled.“Leave it,” shouted Mr Pepson. “You would be in the middle of the jungle, where all is dark, and we could not help you. Come back. We have learned all that we desired. There are five killed here, and one whom you shot in the first boat. But one moment. Do any of these fellows belong to our runaway crew?”Dick retraced his steps slowly, and reluctantly looked at the bodies again. There was not the slightest doubt that they were the very men who had come from Elmina—all, in fact, save one, whose face was strange.“Then James Langdon had others with him,” thought Dick. “Somehow, I don’t know why, I feel misgivings about that man. His memory haunts me. What if he attacked us again!”What if our hero had known that the ruffian whose name he mentioned was at that very moment within little more than a stone’s-throw! That James Langdon had come down to the river-bank that morning, having left his lair in the forest just as the launch steamed away from her anchorage of the previous night! That he had watched with the eagerness and stealth of a fox, and had rubbed his hands with delight as he saw the son of the master he had robbed drop into the water! For this half-caste forgot that he himself was to blame for the existence which he now led, for the discomforts which he had now to put up with. He placed all the blame on Dick’s shoulders.“There he is!” he growled, as Dick waded towards the shore. “But for his coming to the coast I should have been able to remain there, still unsuspected, and there, living in a good house, I could still have done this work for King Koffee. And I could have gained riches more quickly. But we shall see. Ah! he is ashore. If he steps nearer I will shoot him like a bird.”He crouched in the underwood, while his hand went to the pouch at his waist. A growl of anger and disgust escaped him, for the revolver which he had carried was not there. He had no weapon but a large sheath-knife, which he carried at his hip.“It will do as well, and it is silent,” he said to himself. “He is coming. The young fool will walk into the trap, and this time I will not be flurried. He shall come on without a suspicion, and when he has passed me I will leap on his back and there will be an end of the matter.”His ferrety eyes gleamed with malice. He spat on the hand which was to hold the knife, and then gripped it with all his strength. His limbs arranged themselves till the man was poised on the tips of his toes and fingers, till he sat crouched in a position to spring upon the back of his unsuspecting foe. Then came the voice of the leader. Dick stared into the jungle till the half-caste thought he must be seen. Then he retired to the launch, inspected the faces of the slain, and went aboard.“My luck!” growled James Langdon. “But the chance will come again. Oh, yes, my friend, Dick Stapleton, you will be sorry one of these days. As for the men who have engaged you as their agent, they are fools. It would be better for them if they had never met you.”He glared at the launch and her passengers as she steamed away, and still continued to stare at them till they reached the far side of the Pra; for a thought had struck this ruffian.“Why not?” he asked himself. “They will be alone. There will be gold in plenty. Why should I not have my share of that or take all that they possess? If I have failed this time I shall succeed at the next attempt.”The thought pleased him immensely, for his face lightened, the scowl left his forehead, and for a moment James Langdon looked as if he were not the villain he had proved himself to be. But he would not have deceived Dick Stapleton. Had our hero been able to see him there in the bush, he would have suspected the mischief that was brewing, and the misgivings which now filled his mind would have been vastly increased. As it was, he and his friends went on their way up the river, and their adventure of the night almost forgotten in the passing scenes, and in anticipation of the pleasures before them.

Dick shivered and fidgeted. He tapped the deck gently with his toe, and then got up and clambered to the roof of the tiny cabin again, for he was ill at ease. It was not the chill air of the early morning which made his blood run cold, nor the damp mist which rose on every side from river and jungle, from the stagnant pools lying amidst the roots of giant trees and boulders, and from the mossy margins of the stream, where the eddies played, and the current was still. It was neither of these, for there was no chill in the heart of this African country. The morning was almost as stiflingly hot as the night had been, though the green of the leaves, and the shimmer of the river surface as it met his eye through the thin mist, looked cool and refreshing. Dick was uneasy in his mind. As he had sat the hours of darkness through his thoughts had been busy. Remorse, anguish, bitter self-condemnation had come in turn to torture his mind, and now, as the darkness waned and the light increased, he was constantly on the move, searching the river-bank on the far side.

“There! Yes, that is the tree,” he said, as he pointed to the bush beyond. “I can recognise it, and beneath it lie those poor fellows. I killed them! They are stretched out there cold and stiff, those whom the water does not cover. Oh, it is awful to think about.”

He wrung his hands, while there was a look of anguish on his usually jolly face. Had James Langdon, the rascal who had made the attack in the night which had just passed, been able to see him he would have laughed, for this sturdy young Englishman, looking so strong and active on this early morning, would hardly have dared to lift his rifle. He was suffering the torment of mind which has come to many a thousand young warriors before him. Not because he wished it, but owing to pure accident, he had the blood of fellow beings on his hands. He had killed men. He had seen them fall. He remembered the horrid gurgling sound made by the unhappy wretch who had fallen into the water and sunk to the mud. The hideous noise had haunted him the night through, so that he was unmanned and shivering. His fists were clenched, and his teeth held tight together.

“I killed them,” he murmured.

“And they have themselves to thank,” said a voice at his elbow. “So that’s how the wind blows! Our gallant young agent would rather fall himself and see his comrades massacred than fire on rascals who were ready to murder all. No! No, I did not mean that, my lad. But—look here!”

It was Mr Pepson, standing there on the deck as erect as ever, as if he had received no wound, though the bandages about his head and his shoulder and the blood-stains upon them, showed that he undoubtedly had. But Dick had begun to discover some unsuspected points about this employer of his, and had come to the conclusion that he was possessed of no ordinary pluck and go, though he showed it in his own quiet and unassuming manner, and, in addition, that thin and cadaverous though he seemed to be, yet this trader from Sierra Leone was as hard as nails. He stared at him in amazement, and then flushed at his words.

“Why, you ought to be wrapped in your rug!” he exclaimed sharply. “You are hurt, and need a little nursing.”

“A mere scratch—a flea-bite, I assure you. I have had many worse before this, as you may learn when I tell you a little of my life’s history. But speaking of rugs. That’s what you want, my lad, and a good talking-to besides. Now, listen to me, Dick. I don’t blame you, nor do I smile at your thoughts and feelings, for every decent fellow has them. I remember a ruffian who thought to rob me in South America, many years ago. Yes, I was a youngster little older than you are. I shot him dead, and lay down beside him through the night, because that was the safest place. When the sun came up and showed me that I was alone and that there was no more trouble to fear, I looked at that poor fellow. He was lying on his back, his legs curled up beneath him, and his hands stretched out as if he were asleep. But his white face and the pool beside him told me the awful truth. I bolted. I ran away, Dick. I felt like a murderer, and for days wondered whether I should be tracked. Then I saw the other side. A rancher took me in hand, just as I am doing with you, and he made me see the right side. Why, bless me, the world is filled with honest people and with rogues, and the latter prey upon their fellows. Are the honest men to put up with robbery and violence? Did you agree so easily to James Langdon’s taking your gold? Did you? Come, answer the question.”

Dick was cornered, and began to see the other side of the matter. The sun was coming up, too, and the damp mist was already beginning to disappear. Our surroundings often have an immense effect upon the brightness or otherwise of our thoughts, and our hero, usually so jolly and so genial, had felt the depression common to many who keep watch alone during the dark hours after an action.

“Of course I didn’t,” he answered. “I tried to shoot him, just as I did last night, and he would have richly deserved his fate.”

“Quite so. And these rascals last night deserved theirs, without a doubt. It happened that you were the one to stand between them and their wishes, and they did their utmost to remove you. Theirs was might against right, and right prevailed. They paid the penalty, and here are you grieving because all has happened as it should. Come. No more of this nonsense! Tell me about the action, for, remember, after the moment when we set foot ashore, I know nothing, save that I found myself aboard this launch, with you and Meinheer staring into my face. That reminds me. Where is our fine friend? A precious mess his laziness got us into last night.”

“Turned in and snoring,” said Dick. “Listen!”

Above the ripple of the water and the sough of the wind in the trees the sounds proceeding from the nose of the Dutchman could be distinctly heard.

“He must have his sleep,” laughed Mr Pepson. “Did I not tell you that we must needs rely upon ourselves for protection? He is made for commerce, not for warfare.”

“And yet he did well last night. I’ll tell you what happened.”

They sat down on the tiny roof while Dick told how the bullet had struck his friend, and how the flash had showed him a dozen men rushing down upon them.

“That was an awkward position,” interrupted his friend. “I understand that I was lying in the water. Covered, in fact?”

There was a queer little smile on his lips, and he looked swiftly into Dick’s honest and open face.

“Yes. You had gone below the surface. I was stunned by the mishap. I thought it was all up with us.”

“With me, you mean. You could have bolted. The boat was close at hand.”

Dick flushed to the roots of his hair, and tore his hat from his head as if the weight troubled him. He stared at Mr Pepson in amazement, and then, seeing the smile, smiled back at him.

“You are chaffing me,” he said. “Trying to humbug me. You know well enough that no decent fellow would do that. You wouldn’t. I wasn’t going to desert a comrade who was down and helpless, particularly when there were such ruffians about. So I set to work as quickly as possible.”

“You made up your mind to see the business through?”

“Yes. I was staggered at first. Then I caught you up, not too gently, I fear, and dumped you into the boat. After that I pushed her out and shoved off into the shadow of the trees.”

“Why? What was your reason?”

Mr Pepson was like an inquisitor. He still smiled the same little smile, and still treated his agent to an occasional flash of his brilliant eyes, as if he would probe him to the utmost depth.

“My reason? Oh, we were in the light, you see. The moon was up, and the beggars could pot us easily. They had guns, remember, else you would not have been hit. I reckoned—all of a sudden—I don’t know how it was, quite—that we should be safer there, and so into the shadow I went. Then they occupied our position. I could see to shoot, while they were bothered. Still, they made a fine rush, and things began to look ugly when the launch came into view. Our friend showed his mettle, for he fired at once, and his shot practically ended the engagement. Then we steamed off, and, and—”

“And here we are. And I owe you a life again, Master Dick. Very good. No, I won’t say a word more, save that you tackled the task well. It was an ugly position and you seem to have chosen the only way out. I’m glad, too, that Meinheer put a spoke in their wheel. Now do me the favour of dressing these wounds again, and then we will breakfast. Get the bandages and a looking-glass, for then I shall be able to see the hurts myself, and give an opinion. You see, I am a bit of a surgeon.”

At this moment the blanket beneath which the ample figure of the Dutchman was shrouded stirred and was thrown back, and very soon, yawning and stretching his arms, Meinheer came along the deck. By then Dick had the bandages and fresh dressings, as well as a bowl of water, drawn from the river, and some clean linen to act as a sponge. How different, how lighthearted he looked, for, thanks to his chat with Mr Pepson, and to the other’s common sense, all his worries were dispelled, and he saw things with an eye which was not jaundiced. He had, in fact, reached the stage at which others in a similar position had arrived before. He could see that killing was not a joyous trade, that no ordinary human being lightly undertook it, and only when circumstances made it imperative that he should act so as to protect his own life and that of his friend. Then there was no blame to be attached to the one who had shed the blood of his fellow, so long as he was not a wanton aggressor.

“Here we are,” he called out as he came along. “Good day, Meinheer. Hold the bowl, please, while I get the bandages undone. Ah, here’s the pin. Now, sit up, sir. That’s right. We’ll have it done in a jiffy.”

Very carefully and skilfully he unwrapped the bandages, and presently the dressing was removed from the shoulder. Mr Pepson lifted the glass, arranged it so that he could obtain a clear view, and then grunted.

“Humph!” he said, with one of his inscrutable smiles. “A mere scratch. Take the probe, Dick. Now dip it into that other bowl which has the carbolic in it. That’s the way. Gently put it into the wound. No. Don’t be nervous. I’ll soon shout if it hurts. Press gently towards the other place where the bullet came out. Hah! A mere flesh wound, barely an inch deep. Not even that. I’m lucky! The shoulder is scarcely stiff, and a little rest in a sling will put it right in a week. A schoolboy would laugh at it. Put on fresh dressings and we’ll inspect the head. Lucky that I’m such a surgeon!”

He was as cheery as possible, and thanks to his lightheartedness his friends, who had been looking on and helping in the task with some misgivings, began to feel that their comrade was, after all, not so badly hurt.

“I tell you that it was only the crack on my skull that mattered,” persisted Mr Pepson. “The bullet slipped through my shoulder, a mere wound of the cuticle, and then happened to glance against my scalp and skull. A man can’t stand that. It knocks him stupid. That’s why I fell, and that’s why our young friend had to help me. But it doesn’t explain why he—a mere youngster—pulled me through so well, and why he stuck to me when many another would have bolted to save his own skin. Heh? What did you say, Meinheer?”

“Zat we hab a drasure. Zat Meinheer Dick will be a gread man one of zese days. When he is big like me, when he has grown fine and dall, and, and—ah, yes, sdoud, you call him; yes, when he is sdoud, then he will be one gread, fine man. And he is brave! Yes, I see zad with half one eye, for a brave man knows when he meeds one of ze same.”

“Quite so, Meinheer,” answered Mr Pepson, dryly. “Which reminds me. Dick says that you fired in the nick of time, and turned the tide of the battle. It was a good shot. You did well, and Johnnie also, to bring up the launch just then. But stand aside a little and give me the glass. Hah! Looks nasty, doesn’t it, Dick,” he went on, as the wound on his scalp was exposed, and he noticed our hero wince and turn a little pale at the sight. “Come, come! Looks are the worst part of it. Bathe the wound and cover it again. An Irishman would not give it a second thought. I haven’t even a headache.”

He rose to his feet when the dressing was completed, and walked up and down the deck, looking perhaps a little more sallow than usual. But his spirits were not in the least damped or downcast. Indeed, his two companions had yet to learn that their leader was, in his quiet way, a remarkable man. As hard as nails, as Dick had already observed, cool and courageous, and possessed of a dogged nature which defied the utmost fatigue, which laughed, or rather smiled only, at danger, and which made light of any wound. Meanwhile, Dick and Johnnie were engaged at the furnace door, and presently the aroma of coffee came to the nostrils of the leader and the Dutchman, causing the latter to turn an eager and expectant gaze in that direction.

“By Jobe!” he cried, “bud zad is a scend zad is goat, yes, ver goot. Whad shall we ead zis day?”

His question was answered almost at once, for Johnnie came along the deck bearing a steaming dish, Dick following with the coffee and biscuit. The newspaper was again spread on the roof of the cabin, and all set to work with eagerness.

“And now for future movements. We are a day’s journey from the mouth of the river, and three from the mine,” said Mr Pepson. “The question is whether we should push on alone as we are, or whether we should return. There is no doubt that all our Fanti men were in league with these robbers, and left us at the first opportunity.”

“And would do the same again,” Dick ventured. “If we returned for a second crew, who is to guarantee that they will not behave in a similar manner?”

“That is the very point. We should run that danger. What are your views about this attack during the night?”

He swung round on his elbow and looked keenly at our hero.

“You saw them,” he said. “This precious rascal nearly shot you. How much has he had to do with the matter?”

“More than any one, I think,” was Dick’s answer. “I believe him to be a thorough rogue, and in league with the Ashantis. Inquiries which I made at Cape Coast Castle convinced me that he had been engaged on many occasions in running guns and ammunition to the coast, and sending them up-country. Well, we have heard that there is trouble brewing. The natives at Elmina are in almost open insurrection. Murders have been committed under the eyes of the garrison, and a few white men carried off. In addition, there are tidings that parties of Ashanti warriors are in the neighbourhood of the Pra. It is my opinion that this James Langdon is their spy, that he is watching for them and sending news of the doings at Elmina and Cape Coast Castle to King Koffee. That would have brought him tidings of our expedition, for all in Elmina and along the coast knew of our intentions—”

“While the king of the Ashantis had given us the concession, and had promised that we should be protected,” interposed Mr Pepson. “Not that I will trust his sable majesty’s word. The best protection that we can have will be our rifles. But I interrupted. You think—?”

“That this James Langdon is a spy, and that while engaged in that work he has time to see to other matters. The cargo we carry is valuable. If he could have taken the boats the expedition would have been ruined, and we should have had to return. Then, too, we do not know how much more ambitious the scheme of last night’s attack may have been. They may have arranged to steal the boats and make sure of their prize, then to return and cut our throats. There were sufficient of them, and I fancy that what James Langdon would willingly do, the others would also carry out.”

“Precisely. They would hack us all to pieces. Never you hesitate again to shoot, my lad. Where such rascals have to be dealt with it is as well to press a trigger without delay, remembering that the man who hesitates very often is killed before he has another chance. And you think that this ruffian has been on the lookout for us, and that we are not only fortunate in having our goods secure, but also in having our lives? I believe it. I think the fellow would willingly have had a little private revenge with his booty. He has his knife in you, Dick, because you were the first to discover him, and he will not be more friendly disposed to us, for we are whites, and he is an outcast. To return to the subject of Elmina. I heard about the natives. Perhaps Meinheer can tell us more.”

“Zey are pigs, I dell you. Mein word! Bud do you know zis, mine ver good friend? Zese blacks were once servands. Zey would run, and quick, when ze order was give. Now—now zere is no ordering zem. Zed do nod move. Zey glare ad me, ad me, Meinheer Van Somering. Zey used to sdand and shake, so”—the burly Dutchman let his knees knock together, while he trembled till his fat cheeks quivered—“ver good, now zey laugh, yes zey laugh and run away.”

“All of which points to disaffection and probable mutiny,” said Mr Pepson. “Then it is clear that a second crew from Elmina would be worse than useless. We shall have dangers to face. We can well do that alone.”

“While I am sure that we can manage the launch and the boats, particularly if we tie up before it is dark, and then change our position once the night has fallen.”

“A brilliant idea, Dick, and we will carry it out. Once at the stockade I shall have no fear, for the men are Ashanti gold-diggers, who are not much given to fighting. There are a dozen of them, and I think their loyalty can be controlled by the prospect of gold. You see, they are paid a percentage of what they recover from the soil. Yes, we will push on up-stream and avoid another attack. If there is a moon again we will keep on during the night. Now about those fellows over there. We must go across and see how many are killed, and if any are still living. Meinheer, what do you say?”

The Dutchman did not reply hastily, for he was considering the danger of such an expedition. However, in his heart of hearts, Meinheer was a humane man when his fears were quieted, and he argued that here there could be no danger.

“Good. We will go, Meinheer,” he said. “Ze sooner ze bedder.”

“And as I am the lightest and perhaps the most active, I will land,” added Dick. “Then, in case of an attack, you two can cover me with your rifles. There is no trusting these rascals, particularly when James Langdon commands them.”

A few minutes later the remains of the breakfast had been cleared away, and while the trio smoked their pipes and chatted, Johnnie stoked the furnace, throwing coal upon it till 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 about. They were all undoubtedly dead, and a glance satisfied him of that fact. At once he went on towards the bush, which at this point receded somewhat from the river, and presently something attracted his eye. It was a path leading into the forest, a path freshly broken and trodden, the one, no doubt, by which the robbers had fled.

“Leave it,” shouted Mr Pepson. “You would be in the middle of the jungle, where all is dark, and we could not help you. Come back. We have learned all that we desired. There are five killed here, and one whom you shot in the first boat. But one moment. Do any of these fellows belong to our runaway crew?”

Dick retraced his steps slowly, and reluctantly looked at the bodies again. There was not the slightest doubt that they were the very men who had come from Elmina—all, in fact, save one, whose face was strange.

“Then James Langdon had others with him,” thought Dick. “Somehow, I don’t know why, I feel misgivings about that man. His memory haunts me. What if he attacked us again!”

What if our hero had known that the ruffian whose name he mentioned was at that very moment within little more than a stone’s-throw! That James Langdon had come down to the river-bank that morning, having left his lair in the forest just as the launch steamed away from her anchorage of the previous night! That he had watched with the eagerness and stealth of a fox, and had rubbed his hands with delight as he saw the son of the master he had robbed drop into the water! For this half-caste forgot that he himself was to blame for the existence which he now led, for the discomforts which he had now to put up with. He placed all the blame on Dick’s shoulders.

“There he is!” he growled, as Dick waded towards the shore. “But for his coming to the coast I should have been able to remain there, still unsuspected, and there, living in a good house, I could still have done this work for King Koffee. And I could have gained riches more quickly. But we shall see. Ah! he is ashore. If he steps nearer I will shoot him like a bird.”

He crouched in the underwood, while his hand went to the pouch at his waist. A growl of anger and disgust escaped him, for the revolver which he had carried was not there. He had no weapon but a large sheath-knife, which he carried at his hip.

“It will do as well, and it is silent,” he said to himself. “He is coming. The young fool will walk into the trap, and this time I will not be flurried. He shall come on without a suspicion, and when he has passed me I will leap on his back and there will be an end of the matter.”

His ferrety eyes gleamed with malice. He spat on the hand which was to hold the knife, and then gripped it with all his strength. His limbs arranged themselves till the man was poised on the tips of his toes and fingers, till he sat crouched in a position to spring upon the back of his unsuspecting foe. Then came the voice of the leader. Dick stared into the jungle till the half-caste thought he must be seen. Then he retired to the launch, inspected the faces of the slain, and went aboard.

“My luck!” growled James Langdon. “But the chance will come again. Oh, yes, my friend, Dick Stapleton, you will be sorry one of these days. As for the men who have engaged you as their agent, they are fools. It would be better for them if they had never met you.”

He glared at the launch and her passengers as she steamed away, and still continued to stare at them till they reached the far side of the Pra; for a thought had struck this ruffian.

“Why not?” he asked himself. “They will be alone. There will be gold in plenty. Why should I not have my share of that or take all that they possess? If I have failed this time I shall succeed at the next attempt.”

The thought pleased him immensely, for his face lightened, the scowl left his forehead, and for a moment James Langdon looked as if he were not the villain he had proved himself to be. But he would not have deceived Dick Stapleton. Had our hero been able to see him there in the bush, he would have suspected the mischief that was brewing, and the misgivings which now filled his mind would have been vastly increased. As it was, he and his friends went on their way up the river, and their adventure of the night almost forgotten in the passing scenes, and in anticipation of the pleasures before them.

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