“They will be keeping a sharp look-out, and we had better remain here.”

“It seems to me,” said Compton, “that we have been here already a week.”

“Quite that,” said Venning.

“The time has seemed long because you have been receiving new impressions.”

“I thought it was a fish I received,” murmured Compton.

“Each impression,” continued the hunter, “is a sort of milestone in your memory, so that an hour crowded with several of these milestones will appear to be longer than a whole blank day.  You will get used to such interrupted nights—­that is, if our journey does not end here.”

“Oh, come, sir, we have dodged them beautifully.”

“The feeling of security is the beginning of disaster,” said Mr. Hume, oracularly.  “The rule of the bush is to keep your eyes skinned.”

“What is the order of the day, then?”

“The order of the day is to watch and wait.  Venning will crawl on to the little island on our right and watch the south hank.  You, Compton, will take the head of the large island on our left, and I will watch from the other end.  If any of us see danger, we will give the whistle of the sand-piper.  Each will take water and food, and each, of course, will keep himself hid.”

“We take our guns, of course?”

“Best not.  A gunshot would bring a host down upon us.  Don’t be discouraged,” continued the hunter, as he saw the boys’ faces drop.  “We have got the advantage of position, and we’ve got grit—­eh?”

He nodded cheerfully, and they smiled back, and then each crept out to his allotted post.  The first part of the watch was by no means bad—­so the boys decided when they had settled down, Venning under a bush palm and Compton behind a log.  There was a pleasant freshness in the air; and as the broad river uncoiled under the mist, it disclosed fresh beauties, till the lifting veil revealed the wooded heights and the tall columns of smoke, grey against the dark of the woods and black against the indigo blue of the sky.  They marked where the hippos stood with their bulky heads to the sun, and saw the crocodiles on the sands of other islands lying motionless with distended jaws.  And then the birds came to the hunting.  Strings of dark ibis, of duck, and storks; small kingfishers all bejeweled, and greater kingfishers in black and white.  The air was full of bird-calls, of the musical ripple of waters, of the hum of the forest moved by the morning wind.

By-and-by, however, the sun got to work in earnest, and the pleasure went out of the watching as the air grew hot and steamy.  The sand-flies and the mosquitoes found them out, and blessed the day that brought two tender white boys into their very midst.  They gathered to the feast in clouds, but these boys were not there for the fun of the thing.  They drew gossamer veils over the brims of their felt hats, and gathered them in about their necks.  They pulled