"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 d.i.c.k, 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 d.i.c.k 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 d.i.c.k'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 d.i.c.k 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 sh.o.r.e," said d.i.c.k. "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 d.i.c.k'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 d.i.c.k'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 pa.s.sed, 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 d.i.c.k, 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 d.i.c.k 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 d.i.c.k, zere is blood. Oh, mine poor friend! How he has been hurd!"

"Higher!" commanded d.i.c.k, 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 d.i.c.k, 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, d.i.c.k, 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 d.i.c.k 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 gla.s.s 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 gla.s.s 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. d.i.c.k 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 sh.o.r.e 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 d.i.c.k Stapleton stood in his shirt sleeves upon the roof of the tiny cabin, rifle in hand, and cartridge bag about his st.u.r.dy 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 d.i.c.k'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.

d.i.c.k 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. d.i.c.k 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 pa.s.sed, been able to see him he would have laughed, for this st.u.r.dy 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 ma.s.sacred 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 d.i.c.k 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 una.s.suming 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 a.s.sure 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, d.i.c.k. 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, d.i.c.k. 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."

d.i.c.k 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 ash.o.r.e, 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 d.i.c.k. "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 d.i.c.k told how the bullet had struck his friend, and how the flash had showed him a dozen men rushing down upon them.