As he spoke the jackal howled, and the chief, who was still standing on the rail, slipped and fell with a splash.  They ran to the side, and the jackal, with another howl, sprang to the rail and thence into the river, where a second or two later it was in the troubled wake of the steamer, beating frantically with its fore paws.

“Man overboard!” shouted Mr. Hume.  “Stand by with a rope.”

But the Belgian skipper on the little bridge held to his course, while a small knot of coloured passengers aft stood laughing and chattering.

“Stop her, you swab,” cried Mr. Hume; then, as the man took no notice, he ran to the wheel, thrust aside the steersman, and jammed the wheel over.

The displaced man, with an oath, flung himself at the hunter with the sympathy of the passengers, who, ceasing their laughter, advanced with menacing cries.

Before the boys had time to comprehend the situation, Mr. Hume settled the matter out of hand.  Letting go the wheel, he caught his assailant by the waistband, and with a heave flung him overboard.  Then with a quick right and left he sent two of the others reeling.

“Now,” he roared at the skipper, “back her, or by the Lord I’ll fling you in as well.”

“Fetch the rifles,” said Compton to Venning.

A moment later the two boys stood at the ready with their rifles, and amid a babel of cries the skipper signaled “Stop her.”  The steamer slowed up, swung gently round, and shaped back to where three dark spots showed.

“There are four,” cried Venning, at his first swift glance; “and one is a crocodile.  It is making for the jackal.”

“Take the wheel, Compton,” said Mr. Hume, quite calm again.  “Give me your gun, Venning.”

The hunter, with the gun, went to the side and looked over.  Nearest him was the man he had thrown overboard; beyond was the jackal, making a great splashing; and further on was the face of Muata, who was crying out encouragement to his faithful companion as he swam swiftly towards it; and to the left, moving rapidly towards the jackal, was the crocodile, swimming in a great swirl, with only his eyes showing, and the end of his snout.  The hunter steadied himself with a shoulder against a stanchion, and then, without hurry or excitement, and after a look round the deck at the people, to see if there was any further mischief brewing, took deliberate aim and fired.

A shout went up, and the very people who had a minute before been so hostile, now were abject in their praise of Mr. Hume, for the crocodile span round and round in answer to the shot.

“Stand by with a rope, Mr. Compton,” cried the hunter, taking command as if by right; and Compton obeyed promptly, but without excitement.

The first man caught the line and swarmed up wet, but subdued in spirit, casting an appealing glance at his late assailant.  Muata, in the mean time, reached the half-drowned jackal, held it by the scruff of the neck with one hand, and, turning over on his back, waited for the rope.  This flung and seized, he also climbed on board, but there was nothing abject in his appearance.  Standing with his head thrown back and his nostrils quivering, he glared a moment at the group of natives; then, seizing a bar of iron, he made a bound forward, uttering a wild war-whoop.