“Ay, so he called it.  The Garden of Rest, and the gates thereof.  Ay, I would see the place again.”

“You know it?” Compton said eagerly.  “Then you must have known my father.”

“A white man I knew, effendi.  The good white man, many years ago; and my old eyes told me that you were of his blood.  If the forest gives you up, search for this path and follow it; and if I be alive, I would go to that place in the clouds.  Allah be with you.”

“And with you.”

The Okapi was driven into the bank, and the old man stepped ashore.

“See that you keep your counsel, my friend,” Said Mr. Hume.  “We want no prowlers about our camp.”

They turned the Okapi down-stream again, and considered where they should hide her, for that was a thing to be done with the utmost care.  It was, however, very difficult to decide; for in the screen of the wood, all along the banks, every spot seemed the same, and there were many reasons against tying up in some dark retreat and leaving the precious craft to its fate, at the mercy of the rising or falling water, and at the risk of discovery by prowling fishermen.

“We must get her aground,” said Mr. Hume; and they poked into the banks here and there in search of a likely landing, ultimately finding a spot where a huge tree had fallen bodily into the river, dragging away with its roots a mass of earth.  They marked the place, and returned to the clearing to camp for the night.  By the light of a fire and of the lamps they went through the stores, and made up five packages, one for each man to carry.  Sheets of oiled canvas were left out, rubber boots, and oilskin coverings for their hats and shoulders.  In the morning Compton was left behind in the clearing in charge of the packages, while the other two took the Okapi down to her berth, which was about half a mile down on the same side.  They drove the boat into the little natural dock, then with their Ghoorka knives cleared a little place in the forest, and next, with a small pioneer spade, dug a trench in the soft mould more than large enough to hold the boat.  Then a foundation was laid of saplings; the walls were also lined with tough wood, and the Okapi, lightened of her cargo and steel deck, was bodily dragged up, and, after a long effort, safely lowered into the dry dock.  Everything was made trim, a layer of branches placed over all, then the leaf-mould restored, and all leveled down.  Working unceasingly, the job took them till well on into the afternoon, when they rested a while; then, with their knives in hand, set off to work their way back to the clearing.  All they had to do was to follow the river.  It was simple enough in theory, but in practice it was a tough job, as they had to struggle every foot of the way, squirming and crawling.  When they heard Compton’s hail they had come to the conclusion that the forest was a trap, its mysteries a delusion, and its general qualities altogether disgusting.