Lord James turned to sweep the border of the river jungle with his
glasses. A herd of fat ungainly hippopotami, on the bar out beyond the
mangroves of the river mouth, fixed his gaze. But a moment afterwards
one of the sailors in the bows pointed upwards and yelled excitedly:
"Hi! hi!--there aloft! Lookut th' bloomin' mad 'un!"

At last--one of the castaways! High above, on the very brink of the
precipice, near the outer end of the headland, a man stood waving down
to the ship in wild excitement.

Lord James hastily focussed his glasses upon the beckoner. Seen
through their powerful lenses, he seemed to leap to within a few feet
--so near that Lord James could see the heaving of his broad chest
under the tattered flannel shirt as he flung his arms about his head
and bellowed down at the steamer in half frantic joy.

The looker wasted no second glance on the rude trousers of spotted
hyena skin or the big lean body of the castaway. Neither the wild
whirling of the sun-blackened arms nor the bristly stubble of a six
weeks' growth of beard could prevent him from instantly recognizing
the face of his friend.

"Tom!--Tom!" he hailed. "Hullo! hullo, old man! Come down!"

Even as he cried out he realized that he could neither be heard nor
recognized at so great a distance. Though the binoculars enabled him
to see his friend with such wonderful distinctness, the deep shouts
that the other was uttering were hardly audible above the clatter
aboard the steamer. But now the ship's siren began to answer the hails