No one needed any telling what had produced that noise, for it was evident that one of the Papuans had hung back to keep watch, and hearing if not seeing, he had sent an arrow in the direction by which the party was retreating.

Oliver halted for a few moments with the thought in his mind which took the form "poisoned," and he listened for some exclamation from one or other of his companions indicating pain, or the sound of a fall. But all was still. The others had given up to him as leader, and when he stopped they halted, and when he moved on again they followed, in full expectation of another arrow whizzing by.

But none came, and increasing his speed now and trying as well as he could to move in a curve large enough to carry him round to the other side of the brig, Oliver pressed on.

"Oh, if only they would burn another blue light," he muttered, as striving to pierce the darkness ahead, and with his gun across his breast ready for instant action, he went on and on, with all kinds of curious thoughts occurring to him as his pulses beat heavily, and even his brain seemed to throb. Stories he had read and heard of people who were lost moving in a circle and getting back to the place from which they had started troubled him, others of people wandering about in the dark and going over the same ground, and of others walking right into the very spot they sought to avoid. These and similar thoughts made him break out into a cold perspiration, and wish that Panton had taken the lead.

But all the time he was steadily walking on in the direction he believed to be correct, till he felt at last that he must be level with the brig, then pa.s.sing it, and again that he must be well on his way now, and that it was time to turn more sharply round and get up to the other side of the vessel. Then--_Splash_!

He drew back with a chill of dread running through his frame, for he had reached the edge of a pool, and there was no water within half a mile of the spot where the brig lay.

"What is it--water?" whispered Panton.

"Yes, I have come wrong."

"No, you haven't, only kept straight on instead of bearing more to your right."

"But I thought I was bearing well to the right," whispered Oliver.

"So did I--too much, but you see you were not. This is the half-dried-up pool, where there are three crocos. I saw them the other day."

"It can't be."

_Splash, splash, splash, splash_!

Four heavy blows given to the surface of the water by the tail of a great reptile, for the purpose of stunning any fish there might be close at hand.

"Yes; you're right," said Oliver. "Then we ought to bear away to the right now?"

"That's it. Go on."

Fortunately the ground was open now, and there was nothing to dread but the scattered blocks of coral which it was too dark to see, but Oliver stepped out boldly, chancing a fall over any of these obstacles, and for the next ten minutes or so he made pretty good progress, and felt sure that he was going right, for he every now and then stepped short with his right foot.

"I must be near the brig now," he said to himself, and after gradually slackening his pace he stopped short and listened, in the hope of hearing some sound on board the vessel, and to his great joy there was a whispering not far away. Reaching out his hand, he touched Panton, and then placing his lips to his companion's ear he said,--

"Can you hear that?"

"Yes, some one talking."

"Well, I make it out to be on the brig. What are we to do next?"

"Creep a little nearer, and then wait for morning. If we go too close, the next thing will be a shot in our direction."

"Hark!"

"What is it?"

"Listen. Isn't this peculiar?"

Panton was silent there in the darkness for a few minutes, and then with his lips to Oliver's ear,--

"I say," he said, "isn't this rather queer?"

"What? I don't understand you."

"If that's people on the brig she's coming nearer to us; I thought at first that the wind might be bringing the sound, but it isn't. The sound's coming closer."

"Mr Rimmer is down, then, patrolling round with some of his men. Be careful, or they may shoot."

"Not he. Mr Rimmer wouldn't leave his wooden fort in the darkness.

Listen."

"Yes, you're right. Whoever it is, is coming this way."

"It's the enemy, then, and we must retreat again."

"But which way? What are we to do? We must be near the brig at daybreak, so that as soon as it is light we may make a rush for it."

"We ought to be, but we mustn't be within sight of Mr Papuan at daybreak; for, so near as we are, we shall have some of his arrows quivering in us. I don't know that I am very much afraid of a wound as a rule, but I am awfully scared about having a poisoned arrow in me. I don't want to die of locked jaw."

"Hist. Back," whispered Oliver. "We must go somewhere, for they're coming on, and it sounds like a good number of them."

Talking was quite plain now, and those who spoke were evidently full of confidence, for one man spoke in a loud voice, and a chorus of agreement or dissent arose, otherwise the enemy must have heard the whispering of the little party, which now retreated steadily, but with the result that Oliver grew confused, for he felt that he had entirely lost all sense of direction, and letting Panton come up abreast he told him so.

"Don't matter," said the latter. "You've evidently been going all wrong, and no wonder. Nature never meant us to play rats and owls. But I daresay we shall get right after all. I wish there were some trees so that we could shelter under them, and--"

"But there is nothing for a long distance but those barren rocks a quarter of a mile from the brig's bows. If we could reach them."

"Yes, where do you think they are?"

"I can't think. I don't know, only that they must be somewhere."

"Yes, that's exactly where they are," said Panton, with a little laugh.

"Somewhere, unless the earth has swallowed them up, but where that somewhere is I don't know, nor you either, so we're lost in the dark."

"Hush, not so loud, the daylight cannot be very far-off now."

"What? Hours. I don't believe it's midnight yet."

"There, I told you so," whispered Oliver, a few minutes later, "there's the dawn coming and the sunrise."

"Nonsense, it's the moon; but look here, oughtn't we to be facing the east now."

"Yes, according to my calculations," replied Oliver.

"Your calculating tackle wants regulating, for so sure as that's the moon rising over yonder we've been working along due west."

"Tut, tut, tut!" e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed Oliver, as he gazed round at the faint light on the horizon, "and I did try so hard. But that must be the dawn."