they thought it safer to follow the river bank. Their progress was very
slow, since continually they must make detours to avoid a quicksand or
a creek, also the stones and scrubby growth delayed them so that fifteen
or at most twenty miles was a good day's march.

Still they went on steadily, seeing no man, and when their food was
exhausted, living on the fish which they caught in plenty in the
shallows, and on young flapper ducks that haunted the reeds. So at
length they came to the main river into which this tributary flowed, and
camped there thankfully, believing that if any pursuit of them had been
undertaken, it was abandoned. At least Alan and the rest believed this,
but Jeekie did not.

On the following morning, shortly after dawn, Jeekie awoke his master.

"Come here, Major," he said in a solemn voice, "I got something pretty
show you," and he led him to the foot of an old willow tree, adding,
"now up you go, Major, and look."

So Alan went up and from the topmost fork of that tree saw a sight at
which his blood turned cold. For there, not five miles behind them,
on either side of the river bank, the light gleaming on their spears,
marched two endless columns of men, who from their head-dresses he
took to be Asiki. For a minute he looked, then descended the tree and
approaching the others, asked what was to be done.

"Hook, scoot, bolt, leg it!" exclaimed Jeekie emphatically; then he
licked his finger, held it up to the wind and added, "but first fire
reeds and make it hot for Bonsa crowd."