A yell from the Dyaks, and the noise of jumping into and pushing off their boats told that there was no time to lose.

“They are strong men, and plenty of them to relieve each other,” said the hermit, who now spoke in his ordinary tones, “so they have some chance of overhauling us in the smooth water; but a few miles further up there is a rapid which will stop them and will only check us.  If we can reach it we shall be safe.”

While he was speaking every muscle in his broad back and arms was strained to the uttermost; so also were the muscles of his companions, and the canoe seemed to advance by a series of rapid leaps and bounds.  Yet the sound of the pursuers’ oars seemed to increase, and soon the proverb “it is the pace that kills” received illustration, for the speed of the canoe began to decrease a little—­very little at first—­while the pursuers, with fresh hands at the oars, gradually overhauled the fugitives.

“Put on a spurt!” said the hermit, setting the example.

The pirates heard the words and understood either them or the action that followed, for they also “put on a spurt,” and encouraged each other with a cheer.

Moses heard the cheer, and at the same time heard the sound of the rapid to which they were by that time drawing near.  He glanced over his shoulder and could make out the dim form of the leading boat, with a tall figure standing up in the bow, not thirty yards behind.

“Shall we manage it, Moses?” asked Van der Kemp, in that calm steady voice which seemed to be unchangeable either by anxiety or peril.

“No, massa.  Unpossable—­widout dis!”

The negro drew the revolver from his belt, slewed round, took rapid aim and fired.

The tall figure in the bow of the boat fell back with a crash and a hideous yell.  Great shouting and confusion followed, and the boat dropped behind.  A few minutes later and the canoe was leaping over the surges of a shallow rapid.  They dashed from eddy to eddy, taking advantage of every stone that formed a tail of backwater below it, and gradually worked the light craft upward in a way that the hermit and his man had learned in the nor’-western rivers of America.

“We are not safe yet,” said the former, resting and wiping his brow as they floated for a few seconds in a calm basin at the head of the rapid.

“Surely they cannot take a boat up such a place as that!”

“Nay, but they can follow up the banks on foot.  However, we will soon baffle them, for the river winds like a serpent just above this, and by carrying our canoe across one, two, or three spits of land we will gain a distance in an hour or so that would cost them nearly a day to ascend in boats.  They know that, and will certainly give up the chase.  I think they have given it up already, but it is well to make sure.”

“I wonder why they did not fire at us,” remarked Nigel.

“Probably because they felt sure of catching us,” returned the hermit, “and when they recovered from the confusion that Moses threw them into we were lost to them in darkness, besides being pretty well beyond range.  I hope, Moses, that you aimed low.”