It was in the early afternoon that we started upon our journey.  The young chief walked at our head as our guide, but refused indignantly to carry any burden.  Behind him came the two surviving Indians with our scanty possessions upon their backs.  We four white men walked in the rear with rifles loaded and ready.  As we started there broke from the thick silent woods behind us a sudden great ululation of the ape-men, which may have been a cheer of triumph at our departure or a jeer of contempt at our flight.  Looking back we saw only the dense screen of trees, but that long-drawn yell told us how many of our enemies lurked among them.  We saw no sign of pursuit, however, and soon we had got into more open country and beyond their power.

As I tramped along, the rearmost of the four, I could not help smiling at the appearance of my three companions in front.  Was this the luxurious Lord John Roxton who had sat that evening in the Albany amidst his Persian rugs and his pictures in the pink radiance of the tinted lights?  And was this the imposing Professor who had swelled behind the great desk in his massive study at Enmore Park?  And, finally, could this be the austere and prim figure which had risen before the meeting at the Zoological Institute?  No three tramps that one could have met in a Surrey lane could have looked more hopeless and bedraggled.  We had, it is true, been only a week or so upon the top of the plateau, but all our spare clothing was in our camp below, and the one week had been a severe one upon us all, though least to me who had not to endure the handling of the ape-men.  My three friends had all lost their hats, and had now bound handkerchiefs round their heads, their clothes hung in ribbons about them, and their unshaven grimy faces were hardly to be recognized.  Both Summerlee and Challenger were limping heavily, while I still dragged my feet from weakness after the shock of the morning, and my neck was as stiff as a board from the murderous grip that held it.  We were indeed a sorry crew, and I did not wonder to see our Indian companions glance back at us occasionally with horror and amazement on their faces.

In the late afternoon we reached the margin of the lake, and as we emerged from the bush and saw the sheet of water stretching before us our native friends set up a shrill cry of joy and pointed eagerly in front of them.  It was indeed a wonderful sight which lay before us.  Sweeping over the glassy surface was a great flotilla of canoes coming straight for the shore upon which we stood.  They were some miles out when we first saw them, but they shot forward with great swiftness, and were soon so near that the rowers could distinguish our persons.  Instantly a thunderous shout of delight burst from them, and we saw them rise from their seats, waving their paddles and spears madly in the air.  Then bending to their work once more, they flew across the intervening water, beached their boats upon the sloping