The Hunter listened patiently, but he was evidently preoccupied.

“We have seen all the valley, sir, and if we do have to stay here longer than we thought, it is a consolation to think that it is a jolly place.”

“I have been away myself,” said Mr. Hume, “and I made an unpleasant discovery.  At first I thought it best to keep it from you, but I know you would not like that.”

“No, sir.”

“The boat has gone!”

“Gone!”

“Clean gone; stolen or hidden away.  I went down shortly after you had left, found the path by the marks I had made, never saw a living soul or any spoor but our own; and I tell you it was a great shock when I saw at the first glance that the boat was not there.”

“I wonder——­” began Venning.

“It is no good wondering,” said the Hunter, testily.  “Muata or his mother has had a hand in this.”

“We can soon put that right,” said Compton, “by demanding that the boat be produced within a certain time.”

“That would mean war,” said Mr. Hume.  “I had thought of that, and so no doubt has Muata.  The odds are in his favour by force of numbers, for he could starve us out in a week.  Violence is no use.  Our best plan is to remain friendly, but watchful.”

“Don’t you think,” said Venning, thoughtfully, “that we are on the wrong scent?  Suppose the boat was stolen by Hassan’s men.”

“It may be—­it may be, lad; and yet, if Hassan’s men did find the boat, it seems to me they would have let it alone to disguise the fact of their presence.  Anyway, we will make a further search to-morrow.”

They had cause now for uneasiness, and the boys for the first time began to entertain suspicions about Muata’s faithfulness, for the loss of the Okapi in the very thick of the forest meant to them what marooning is to the sailor man.  They sat discussing the matter long into the night, and when morning came they looked out on the valley with other feelings than before.  It was to them a prison, lovely still, but changed; and their eyes went to the spot where they had seen the bodies of the men upon whom Muata had fulfilled the law as he understood it, the terrible law of swift vengeance upon any who opposed the will of the chief.  There were armed men on their way to the gorge from the village, and very soon, before the dew had dried on the grass, and while the morning clouds hung white on the hilltops, the chief himself came up with his headmen.  And the reason of his coming was none else than to make Mr. Hume vice-chief, with full power, in his absence, over life and property in the valley; for, said he, “I go upon the trail myself, and who should have authority when I am gone but you, my friend?”

The headmen expressed themselves delighted.

“But,” said the Hunter, troubled by this upset of his theory that Muata would think only of himself, “our boat has been taken.”

“The water there is taboo,” said Muata, without showing any surprise.  “No one would go there but that one who may go.  If the boat is gone it will be returned at the appointed time.  See, my friend, I give you my seat under the council tree; have you also trust in Muata, the lone hunter.”