“Dingo!” cried Harris.

“Ah! this time it shall not escape me!” replied Negoro.

Dingo was going to jump upon him, when Negoro, seizing Harris’s gun, quickly put it to his shoulder and fired.

A long howl of pain replied to the detonation, and Dingo disappeared between the double row of bushes that bordered the brook.

Negoro descended at once to the bottom of the bank.

Drops of blood stained some of the papyrus stems, and a long red track was left on the pebbles of the brook.

“At last that cursed animal is paid off!” exclaimed Negoro.

Harris had been present at this whole scene without saying a word.

“Ah now, Negoro,” said he, “that dog had a particular grudge against you.”

“It seemed so, Harris, but it will have a grudge against me no longer!”

“And why did it detest you so much, comrade?”

“Oh! an old affair to settle between it and me.”

“An old affair?” replied Harris.

Negoro said no more about it, and Harris concluded that the Portuguese had been silent on some past adventure, but he did not insist on knowing it.

A few moments later, both, descending the course of the brook, went toward the Coanza, across the forest.

* * * * *

CHAPTER III.

ON THE MARCH.

Africa!  That name so terrible under the present circumstances, that name which he must now substitute for that of America, was not for an instant out of Dick Sand’s thoughts.  When the young novice traced back the last weeks, it was to ask himself how the “Pilgrim” had ended by reaching this dangerous shore, how it had doubled Cape Horn, and passed from one ocean to the other!  He could now explain to himself why, in spite of the rapid motion of his vessel, land was so long coming in sight, because the length of the distance which he should have made to reach the American coast had been doubled without his knowledge.

“Africa!  Africa!” Dick Sand repeated.

Then, suddenly, while he called up with tenacious mind all the incidents of this inexplicable voyage, he felt that his compass must have been injured.  He remembered, too, that the first compass had been broken, and that the log-line had snapped—­a fact which had made it impossible for him to establish the speed of the “Pilgrim.”

“Yes,” thought he, “there remained but one compass on board, one only, the indications of which I could not control!  And one night I was awakened by a cry from old Tom.  Negoro was there, aft.  He had just fallen on the binnacle.  May he not have put it out of order?”

Dick Sand was growing enlightened.  He had his finger on the truth.  He now understood all that was ambiguous in Negoro’s conduct.  He saw his hand in this chain of incidents which had led to the loss of the “Pilgrim,” and had so fearfully endangered those on board of her.