Perfect silence ensued, and the dip of the paddle was no longer heard. With nervous haste Forbes lit the torch, and the sudden light revealed an empty canoe floating bottom up a few yards out in the stream. They paddled quickly alongside, and leaning over Guy turned the drifting boat right side up. It was empty, of course. The contents had gone to the bottom, and near the center the frail sides, seen plainly in the torchlight, were actually crushed inward like a shattered egg-shell. Where was the occupant of a moment before? What tremendous force had wrought this havoc? The current carried them on and on, but no one spoke; no one dared utter the thoughts that were in his mind. At last Guy said in faltering tones, "Nothing but a serpent could have inflicted that injury to the canoe." "That was the meaning of the splash," replied Melton. "The huge coils must have been thrown around it. The poor fellow had only time for one cry when he was dragged out." "Then the serpent must have been following us down the river," cried the colonel. "I supposed he was dead after that bullet lodged in his neck." "_That_ serpent is dead," said Forbes solemnly, "or I should never have escaped from his coils. This is another serpent. The river must be the abode of many like them." This alarming statement was unfortunately only too likely to be true. Sir Arthur was terribly distressed, and prophesied a speedy reappearance of the monster and a fate similar to that of the poor savage in store for them all. His anxiety was shared by his companions, though not expressed as openly, and all possible haste was made to get away from the horrible spot. A brief search was carried on in hopes of finding the lost provision bags, but, with the exception of a single floating paddle, nothing was picked up. The bags must have sunk with the lamp and oil-flask. Nothing was seen of the other canoe--the one originally taken by the savage--and they came to the conclusion that it had been purposely abandoned farther up the river. The balance of that day they traveled with a dread sense of impending danger. The terrible scene so recently witnessed had left an ineffaceable impression and by tacit consent they paddled in silence, afraid of the sound of their own voices. The river had suddenly become narrow, and ran with dizzy speed between two rocky walls that reflected on both sides the glow of the torch which Sir Arthur carried in the stern. Half a dozen times they dashed through brawling rapids, but no mishap occurred, and, as their increasing drowsiness warned them that night was close at hand, they succeeded in finding a landing-place on the left shore which offered some protection until morning. A small quantity of wood still remained, and with this a fire was kept burning all night, while they took turns at guarding the camp, for after the recent events they no longer dared to sleep unprotected and in utter darkness.