The cry was repeated twice before I could make a dash through the thick swampy growth towards the bank.

“Quick ­quick, Harry!  They are here!”

“Mas’r Harry!” cried Tom in a piteous voice.

The next moment I was on the trampled bank a little below where we had landed, to see in a moment that the little raft was being pushed off; for in cat-like silence our enemies had approached us, and I bitterly repented that I had not joined Tom, instead of wasting time over the fishers whose canoes we had taken.  I knew that not a moment had been wasted, and that it would have been impossible to have half-made another raft by this time; but the means of safety had been open to me, and, so as to be fair, I had slighted it; while now I was in despair.

Those were terrible moments!  As I emerged from the brake there arose a fierce yell; there was a scattered volley, and the flashes gave me a momentary glimpse of the pale face of Lilla upon the raft.  Then there was the loud splashing of the water, and the hurrying to and fro of dimly-seen figures ­for the darkness was now deepening with that rapidity only known in equatorial regions.

A moment after, I heard the splashing of water, as of some one swimming; and feeling that it was my only chance, I prepared to dash into the muddy current, when there was a crash, a hoarse cry, and a heavy body struck me on the back, driving me down upon my hands and knees, a tight clutch was upon my throat, and I felt that I was a prisoner, when, with a despairing effort for liberty, I threw myself sidewise towards the river, rolled over in the mud, and then my adversary and I were beneath the water.

We rose directly, and I felt that I was free; for, with a guttural cry, my foe loosened his hold and made for the bank, while, blinded and confused, I swam desperately in the direction I thought might have been taken by the raft.

I almost dashed through the water for a few minutes, as I tried to put in force every feint I knew in swimming; while, as I made the current foam around, I could hear the noise of struggling, muttered imprecations, and then a low, panting breathing, and then once more there was silence.

I began to feel that I had made my last effort, and I was nerving myself for another stroke when my hand touched something hard.

“Loose your hold or I fire!” cried a fierce voice, and the barrel of a gun was pressed against my cheek.

“Uncle!” I gasped, in a voice that did not sound like mine, and as I spoke I grasped the cold barrel of the gun.

There was a loud ejaculation, a faint cry, hands were holding mine, I could feel the raft rocking to and fro, as if about to be overturned; and then, as I felt that I was drawn upon it ­that I was saved ­my senses reeled, and my mind became dark as the sky which hung over the river.

I believe my swoon did not last many minutes.  How could it, when my head was being held to my aunt’s breast, which heaved with emotion, and hot tears were falling upon my forehead.

“Lilla?” I whispered.

“Harry!” was breathed upon my cheek, as she came forward.

But this was no time for talking, and rallying my strength I rose to my knees.

“I thought I should never have reached you, Uncle,” I said.

“I did my best, Harry,” he whispered; “but I felt that when those blood-hounds leaped suddenly out from the brake that I must push off.”

“But what was that struggle I heard?  Did I not hear Garcia’s voice?”

“Yes,” said my uncle, huskily.

“And where is Tom?”

My uncle was silent.

“Poor Tom?” I said, in an inquiring voice.

“Yes,” said my uncle, huskily.  “It seemed to me that Garcia and another reached the canoe Tom was in ­the gold canoe, Harry ­and that then there was a desperate fight, which lasted some minutes.  I had seized the paddle, and tried to make for where the struggle seemed to be going on; but first there was a faint, gurgling cry, and then utter silence; and though I softly paddled here and there I could find nothing.  Harry, that canoe was heavily laden ­the gold was a dead weight ­”

“And it took down with it what was worth ten thousand times more than the vile yellow trash,” I cried bitterly ­“as true a heart as ever beat.  Oh, Uncle ­Uncle!  I have murdered as noble a man as ever breathed, and as faithful a friend.  Oh, Tom ­Tom!” I groaned.

I could say no more; but out there that night on the breast of the black, swift stream, with not a sound now but the sobs of the women to break the terrible silence, I ­a woman myself now in heart ­bent down to cover my face with my hands and cry like a child.

At last I grew more calm, for there was work to be done.  I found that we had floated on to a kind of mud bank, and were aground, and I had to help my uncle to get the raft off, which we managed by drawing the canoe up alongside, and then getting in and paddling hard, with the effect that the raft at last floated off, and we retained our places in the canoe guiding the raft down the swiftly flowing stream.

Morning at last, to bring no brightness to my heart.

We paddled on, the little raft, buoyant as possible, following swiftly in our wake.

“Harry,” said my uncle, almost sternly, “I have thought it over during the darkness of the night, and I cannot feel that we have been wanting in any way.  Poor lad! it was his fate.”

“Uncle,” I cried, throwing down my paddle, “I can bear this no longer.  I must go back!”

“Harry,” cried my uncle, “you shall not act in that mad fashion.  You have escaped with life, and now you would throw it away.”

“Is it not mine to cast away if I like?” I said bitterly.

“No,” he said in a low tone, as he bent forward and whispered something in my ear.

“Say no more, Uncle ­pray say no more,” I groaned.  “Indeed, I believe that I am half mad.  I would almost sooner have died myself than that this should have happened.  How can I ever face those at home?”

“Harry, my lad,” said my uncle, “take up your paddle, and use it.  You are thinking of the future ­duty says that you must think now of the present.  We have two lives to save; and, until we have them in one of the settled towns, our work is not done.”

I took up my paddle in silence, and plunged the blade in the stream, and we went on, swiftly and silently, along reach after reach of the river.

Many hours passed without an alarm, and then, just as we were passing into another and a wider river, there came from the jungly edge of the left bank a puff of smoke, and a bullet struck the canoe.

“To the right,” whispered my uncle softly; “we shall soon be out of that.”

The paddles being swiftly plied, we made for the opposite bank, striving hard to place those we had with us out of reach of harm.  But with bullets flying after us our efforts seemed very slow, and the raft was struck twice, and the water splashed over us several times, before I felt a sharp blow on my shoulder ­one which half numbed me ­while a bullet fell down into the bottom of the canoe.

“Spent shot, Harry,” said my uncle, striking on alternate sides with his paddle, for I was helpless for the next quarter of an hour.  “There will be no wound, only a little pain.”

The skin-raft held together well ­light and buoyant ­so that our progress down stream was swift, but apparently endless, day after day, till our provisions were quite exhausted, and our guns had to be called into requisition to supply us with food.

We were suffering too much to appreciate the wonders of the region through which we were passing; but I have since then often recalled it here at home in the quiet safety of my chair by my fireside, wondering often too how it was that we managed ever to get down to a civilised town in safety.

There was, of course, always the consciousness of knowing that, if we kept afloat, sooner or later we must reach the sea; but what an interminable way it was!  At one time we were slowly gliding down a wide river whose banks were not only covered to the water’s edge with the dense growth of the primeval forest, but the huge branches of the great trees spread far over the muddy flood.  These trees were woven together, as it were, by the huge cable-like lianas which ran from tree to tree.  From others hung the draperies of Spanish moss, while others were clothed with flowers from the water’s edge to the very summits, whose sweet blooms filled the air with their spicy odours.  This wondrous wall of verdure rose to a great height; and when the current sometimes swept us near what was really a shoreless shore great herons would sometimes take flight, or a troop of monkeys rush chattering up amongst the leafy branches, going along hand over hand with the most astonishing velocity, or making bounds that I would think must end in their falling headlong into the river.  But no, they never seemed to miss the branch that was their aim, and this, too, when often enough one of these agile little creatures would be a mother with a couple of tiny young ones clinging so tightly to her neck that the three bodies seemed to be only one.

Curious little creatures these monkeys were, but as a rule exceedingly shy.  Sometimes on a hot mid-day I would be seated listlessly, paddle in hand, dipping it now and then to avoid some mass of tangled driftwood, and then watching the great wall of verdure, I would see the leaves shake a little and then all would be still; but if I watched attentively as we glided by, it was a great chance if I did not see some little, dark, hairy face gazing intently down at me with the sharp, eager eyes scanning my every movement, and if I raised a hand the little face was gone like magic, a rustling leaf or waving strand of some convolvulus-like plant being all that was left to show where the little creature had been.

At other times, instead of the winding river with its walls of verdure, we passed into what seemed to be some vast island-studded lake, some being patches of considerable extent, others mere islets of a dozen yards across, but all covered with trees and tangled with undergrowth.  Landing on any of these was quite impossible unless through one of the verdant tunnels in which now and then there would be a swirl of the water that formed their bottom, showing where some huge reptile had dived at the sight of our boat and raft; while at other times a great snout, with the two éminences above its eyes, would be thrust out of the water and then slowly subside, to be seen no more.

At these times the current swept us through winding channels in and out among the islands, and if I could have felt in better spirits I should have found endless pleasure in investigating the various beauties of the vegetable world:  the great trumpet-shaped flowers that hung from some of the vines, with endless little flitting and poising gems of humming-birds feeding upon the nectar within the blossoms.  Then squirrels could be seen running from branch to branch, at times boldly in sight, at others timid as the other occupants of the tree, the palm-cats, that were almost as active.

Once I caught sight of the spots of a jaguar as the agile beast crept along a branch in its hunt for food, the object of its aim being a group of little chattering and squealing monkeys which were feasting on the berries of a leafy tree.

Lilla shuddered on one occasion as I pointed out the long, twiny body of a large boa which was sluggishly making its way through the dense foliage of an india-rubber tree, apparently to get in a good position where it could secure itself in ambush, ready for striking at any bird that might come within its reach.

As it happened the current drove us right in close to the tree and beneath some of its overhanging branches, with the result that the creature ceased its slow gliding movement through the dense leafage, and raised its head and four or five feet of its neck, swaying it slowly to and fro as if hesitating whether or no to make a dart at us.

It was by no means a pleasant moment, and I felt for the time something of the sensation that I had so often read of as suffered by people who have been fascinated by snakes.  I had a gun lying close by me, but I made no movement to reach it; and though I had a paddle in my hand I believe that, if the creature had lowered its head, I should not have struck at it.  In short, I could do nothing but gaze at that waving, swaying head, with the glistening eyes, and the beautiful yellow and brown tortoiseshell-like markings of the neck and body.

Then the stream swept us slowly away, and we were beyond the reptile’s reach.

Taking; the recollection of these wild creatures of the South American forests, though, altogether, there was not so much cause for fear.  As a rule every noxious beast seemed to aim at but one thing, and that was to escape from man.  Even the great alligators, unless they could find him at a disadvantage in their native element, would rush off through the mud and undergrowth to plunge into the water and seek safety right at the bottom of the river.  The jaguars were timid in the extreme; and though they would have fought perhaps if driven to bay, their one idea seemed to be to seek safety in flight.  It was the same with the poisonous serpents, the most dangerous being a kind of miniature rattlesnake which was too sluggish and indifferent to get out of the traveller’s way, and many a poor fellow suffered from their deadly bite.

In fact the most dangerous and troublesome creatures we had to encounter on our journey down the river, excepting man, were the mosquitoes ­which swarmed all along the river borders and pestered us with their bites ­ and an exceedingly small fish that seemed to be in myriads in parts of the stream, and to make up in absolute ferocity for their want of size.  This savageness of nature was of course but their natural instinctive desire for food, but it was dangerous in the extreme, as I knew later on.  Our experience was in this wise: ­

It was one lovely afternoon when we were floating dreamily along between two of the most beautiful walls of verdure that we had seen.  Many of the trees were gorgeous with blossoms, the consequence being that bright-winged beetles, painted butterflies, and humming-birds abounded.

My uncle was seated half asleep with the heat, and his gun across his knees, waiting for an opportunity to shoot some large bird that would be good for food; I was dipping in my paddle from time to time so as to keep the canoe’s head straight and away from the awkward snags that projected from the river here and there ­the remains of trees that had been washed out of the bank by some flood ­and I was thinking despondently about the loss of poor Tom.

Then my thoughts reverted to home and those I had to meet there, with our accounts of how it was that poor Tom had met his death.

“All due to my miserable ambition,” I said to myself; “all owing to my wretched thirst for gold.  And what has it all come to?” I said bitterly.  “I had far better have settled down to honest, straightforward labour.  I should have been better off.”

I gave the paddle a few dips here, and noted that the water was much purer and clearer than it had seemed yet.  We were very close in to the shore, but we had floated down so far that we had ceased to fear the Indians, believing as we did that they were now far behind.

Then I began to think once more of how much better off I should have been if I had settled down to work on my uncle’s plantation.

Not much, I was obliged to own, for my settling down would not have saved me from quarrelling with Garcia, neither would it have cleared my uncle from the incumbrance upon his home.

“Perhaps things are best as they are,” I said; and then I looked back to where Lilla was thoughtfully gazing down into the river from where she reclined upon the raft, and letting one of her hands hang down in the water, which she played with and splashed from time to time.

I was just going to warn her not to do so, for I remembered having read or heard tell that alligators would sometimes make a snap at a hand dragging in the water like that, when she uttered a sharp cry, snatching her hand away; and as she did so I saw a little flash, as if a tiny, silvery fish, dropped back into the water.

“What is it?” I said.

“Something bit me ­a little fish,” she said.  “It has nipped a morsel out of my finger.”

She held up her hand as she spoke before wrapping a scrap of linen round it, and I could see that it was bleeding freely.

“Surely it could not have been that tiny fish,” I said, thrusting one hand into the water and snatching it back again, for as it passed beneath the surface it was as if it had been pinched in half a dozen places at once; and when I thrust it in again I could see that the water was alive with little fish apparently about a couple of inches long, and instantaneously they made a rush at my hand, fastening upon it everywhere, so that it needed a sharp shake to throw them off; and when I drew it out, hardened and tough as it was with my late rough work, it was bleeding in a dozen places.

“Why, the little wretches!” I exclaimed; and by way of experiment I held a piece of leather over the side, to find that it was attacked furiously; while even later on, when I had been fishing and had caught a small kind of mud-carp, I hauled it behind the canoe, in a few minutes there was nothing left but the head ­the little ravenous creatures having literally devoured it all but the stronger bones.

I remember thinking how unpleasant it would be to bathe there, and often and often afterwards we found that it would be absolutely impossible to dip our hands beneath the water unless we wished to withdraw them smarting and covered with blood.

What more these little creatures could effect we had yet to learn, but we owned that they were as powerful in the water as the fiercer kind of ants on land, where they were virulent enough in places to master even the larger kinds of snakes if they could find them in a semi-torpid state after a meal ­biting with such virulence and in such myriads that the most powerful creatures at last succumbed.

At last, as the days glided on, we became more and more silent.  Very little was said, and only once did my uncle talk to me quietly about our future, saying that we must get to one of the settlements on the Orinoco, low down near its mouth, and then see what could be done.

A deep, settled melancholy seemed to have affected us all; but the sight, after many days, of a small trading-boat seemed to inspire us with hopefulness; and having, in exchange for a gun, obtained a fair quantity of provisions, we continued our journey with lightened spirits.

In spite, though, of seeing now and then a trading-boat, we got at last into a very dull and dreamy state; while, as is usually the case, the weakest, and the one from whom you might expect the least, proved to have the stoutest heart.  I allude, of course, to Lilla, who always tried to cheer us on.

But there was a change coming ­one which we little expected ­just as, after what seemed to be an endless journey, we came in sight of a town which afterwards proved to be Angostura.