“Shut off the bull’s-eye, Venning.  We’ll make for mid-stream, and approach the fire with caution.”

The boat moved out into the current, then worked up very tenderly while Venning steered, with his eyes fixed on that little speck of red.  Slowly they advanced, cautiously were the levers pulled over and shot back, so that there should be no noise, and silently the smooth craft cut into the darkness.  But light travels far, and they seemed to get no nearer.

“I believe it’s a light in a boat,” muttered the lookout.

The others slowed up, and they listened, but they heard no sound of paddles, only innumerable stealthy whisperings from the woods.

“It is stationary,” said Mr. Hume, “and ashore, as you may see from its fixity.  Beep her away.  We can’t be too careful.”

They made a long reach down, going very warily, and taking care not to keep their eyes solely upon the fire; for a light is a good lure to draw the careless into an ambush, unless they are on the look-out for danger in a different quarter.

“I can’t see any one about,” said Venning, who was using the night-glasses.

In complete silence they came at last opposite the fire, but no sooner had they passed it than it went out.

“Put her round,” whispered Mr. Hume.

The boat answered her helm like a well-trained horse, and they went back on their course to see if they could fetch the light again.

“Yes, there it is.”

“Then it’s a signal,” muttered Mr. Hume; “only to be seen by some one coming up-stream.”

“Suppose it is meant for us?”

Mr. Hume went forward with his Express, and relieved Venning at the helm.

“We’ll creep nearer in this time, but be ready to make a dash if it proves to be one of Hassan’s watch-parties.”

This time the Okapi hugged the shore, and stopped when it came opposite the light.

Out of the darkness came a low laugh.  “I have been awaiting you, O great one; but you came so softly that I should not have known except for these wise ones here.”

“Welcome, Muata!” The boat was run in now without further pause, and Mr. Hume leapt ashore with the line.  “And who are the wise ones, chief, that could smell us out in the dark?”

“Who but the jackal and the wise woman?”

“You found your mother, then!  I’m very glad—­very glad.  And what about Hassan?  He has passed this way, and made his sign at the village where we left the old Arab.”

“The Arab thief comes up the little river with many canoes and the whole pack of man-eaters.  So we three will get into the shining canoe, if the great one wills, and make good the time before sunrise.”

“The boat is ready.”

Muata called.  The fire was put out, and presently two figures appeared within the range of the bull’s-eye lantern—­a woman and the jackal.  The woman halted to speak a few words to Muata, then she put a hand on the hunter’s shoulder and peered into his face.  She laughed and said something.