Flushed and trembling, Guy staggered, with new-found strength, to his feet. "Saved! Saved! Saved!" he cried aloud. "Thank God! Melton! Canaris! Do you hear? The blessed sunlight is shining around us. Why don't you answer? Why don't you shout for joy?" But no response came, and the five ghastly figures on the raft remained as stiff and motionless as before. A swift change passed over Guy's face. "Merciful heavens!" he cried. "Can it be? All dead!" He gasped for breath, beating the air with stiffened fingers, and then dropped like a log. * * * * * The warm sunlight still played on the raft, and the yellow tide of the river lapped the roughened logs with a soft and musical murmur. CHAPTER XXXVIII. CAPTAIN BECKER LOSES A WAGER. "No, no, gentlemen. I respectfully beg leave to differ with you. Africa never gives up her white slaves." Captain Lucius Becker emphasized his words by bringing his fist down heavily on the frail table before him, and replacing his meerschaum between his lips, he glared defiantly at his two companions. It was a hot and sultry afternoon in March--such a March as only tropical Africa knows--and the place was the German military station of New Potsdam, on the left bank of the river Juba, a few miles from its mouth, in eastern Africa. On the broad bosom of the river the sun was beating fiercely, and the mangrove jungles and lofty palm trees drooped motionless in the dead calm. Upon the flat roof of the little station, however, the refining touches of civilization had done much to mitigate the severity and discomfort of the heat. An awning of snowy canvas, shaded by the projecting clusters of a group of palms, made a cool and grateful shelter, and under this the three officers had been dining. Captain Becker continued to blow out great clouds of white smoke as though he had completely squelched all further argument on the subject under discussion. The silence was broken at last by Dr. Moebius Goldbeck. "My dear captain," he said, in slow, measured tones, as he adjusted his eyeglass, "I cannot agree with you. Africa has passed through many changes of late years. These men will surely be heard from again, and may even be freed eventually." "Yes, yes, you are right, doctor; your views are eminently sound," said Lieutenant Carl von Leyden. Captain Becker removed his meerschaum from his lips, and shook himself in his chair until his sword clanked on the floor. "Now listen," he cried. "These men of whom we speak, the governor of Zaila, the English colonel, the captain of the Aden steamer, and the other two unfortunate Englishmen, not one of these men will ever come out of Africa alive, I will wager a hundred thalers." "Done!" cried Lieutenant von Leyden. "Done!" echoed Dr. Goldbeck.