CHAPTER XI

A TRAP

In the morning they packed up and made their way upstream to the place where they had left the sections of the Okapi, for such a banner of smoke as was still mounting from the smouldering reeds was bound to attract inspection from the natives.  They found the hiding-place undisturbed, and, after putting the boat together, went on down to the Congo.  Slipping out upon the great river in the dusk, they went on slowly for several miles, tied up till the early dawn, and spread the little sail to the morning breeze.  The boat had a singular appearance, for strips of biltong were suspended from the awning, not having been quite cured, and the buffalo-hide was hanging over the side, in soak, to soften it for the final treatment that would take the hair off and leave it soft and pliant.

Compton was allowed a day off, and slept the sleep of the tired; but the others were all occupied—­one keeping watch, another steering, and the third cleaning up.  The jackal, like Compton, was unemployed, and curled itself up by his feet, opening one eye occasionally to see that all was shipshape.  Through the morning they went, and into the afternoon; then Venning, who was outlook-man, gave tongue—­

“A sail—­a sail!”

“Where—­away?” yelled Compton, waking up.

“On the port bow, hull down, paddle showing.”

“Then it’s a canoe, you duffer, not a sail.”

“A canoe it is, sir; single-handed, and bearing right down upon us.  Shall we speak her?”

“Luff—­luff! and we’ll pour a broadside into her lee scuppers,” said Compton, ferociously.

“She’s signalling,” returned Venning; “distress signal, I think.”

Mr. Hume went forward and took a look through his glasses.  A solitary canoe was certainly in view, with a single boatman aboard, who was frantically waving his paddle.  Then he swept the shore for signs of life.

“There are some people squatting just by that tall palm,” he muttered.  “Have a look, Venning.”

Venning made out several persons at the spot.  “They can’t do us any harm,” he said, and brought the glasses to bear on the canoe.  “The chap appears to be in a stew about something, from the way he glances over his shoulder.”

They sailed down towards the lonely paddler, who was soon alongside —­thanks to an extraordinary agility.  He appeared to be greatly pleased at the meeting, grinned continuously, and at once prepared to get aboard the Okapi.

Mr. Hume, however, kept him off with a “not so fast” and a hand against his breast.

“Talk to him, Muata.  Ask him what he wants, who he is, and all the rest.”

Muata stepped into the canoe, caught up the paddle, and sat down to palaver.  A line was made fast to the canoe, and it drifted astern of the Okapi, which kept on her course.

The canoe-man’s grin faded away, and his eyes rolled as Muata ordered him to sit.  He seemed to be a river tribesman, with only a loin-cloth on.