The boat had now covered nearly half the distance. Phil wondered what he could do. The slight figure of the outlaw, seated upon the low thwart just in front of him, was so temptingly close and apparently so unconscious of any threatening danger. The native’s revolver lay in its holster just within reach of the lad’s hand, the flap securely buttoned upon its polished handle. Phil realized that when Salas expected treachery his first act would be to capsize the canoe. Being a strong swimmer the native doubtless believed he could reach the bank first and have at his mercy those still struggling in the water. To attempt to unbutton the flap of the holster and take the revolver without the owner’s knowledge was impossible. Phil needed both of his hands to wield the heavy paddle and if he stopped paddling Salas would at once suspect treachery. His heart rose in his throat and his pulses throbbed painfully as a bold plan flashed suddenly into his thoughts. It seemed the one chance of escape. At the rate the boat was going it would soon be at the foot of the trail to the stronghold where Salas’ men would be waiting in force to escort them up the steep incline to the top of the mountain. A huge crocodile lay asleep about a hundred yards ahead and this sight had awakened the plan to action in Phil’s mind. “Go slowly,” he whispered loud enough to be heard by all in the boat. “Let’s see if we can’t get a shot at that big crocodile over there.” Salas slowly drew in his paddle, laying it across his knees, while his hand went back to the holster strap. “You keep paddling slowly, Syd, and the señorita can prevent us from capsizing when we fire,” the lad continued eagerly. His own revolver still rested in its holster, while his eyes were bent upon the outlaw’s hand fumbling with the buttoned flap. Mentally he measured the slight figure before him and then the frail boat in which they were seated. The terrible risk he was running came to him almost overpoweringly. Overboard in this river full of hungry crocodiles was unnerving enough to those who could swim, but Maria had said that her small brother could not, and for him death in this swift current would be assured. With his own paddle resting on his knees he braced his feet cautiously but firmly on the round of the bilge so as to put an equal pressure on each side. The outlaw, with his eyes on the crocodile as yet undisturbed in his doze, had succeeded in releasing the flap; his thumb and forefinger grasped lightly the revolver handle, drawing it slowly, thoughtfully, from its cover. Phil’s hand was partly raised, as if he held his revolver ready to shoot at the formidable animal. He muttered a silent prayer that the crocodile would not awake before his plan had succeeded. He felt that out of the corner of his eye the outlaw was watching him, but Phil’s hope was that his act would be so swift and unexpected that Salas would have no time to avoid it and jeopardize the lives of those in the boat.