It looked as if there was nothing else for Ken to do but to make tracks from that vicinity. Never before had he run from a danger which he had not seen; but the flight of the boys was irresistibly contagious, and this, coupled with the many stories he had heard of the _javelin_, made Ken execute a sprint that would have been a record but for the hampering weight of gun and turkey. He vowed he would hold on to both, pigs or no pigs; nevertheless he listened as he ran and nervously looked back often. It may have been excited imagination that the dust-cloud appeared to be traveling in his wake. Fortunately, the distance to the river did not exceed a short quarter of a mile. Hot, winded, and thoroughly disgusted with himself, Ken halted on the bank. Pepe was already in the boat, and George was scrambling aboard. “A fine--chase--you’ve given--me,” Ken panted. “There’s nothing--after us.” “Don’t you fool yourself,” returned George, quickly. “I saw those pigs, and, like the ass I am, I blazed away at one with my shotgun.” “Did he run at you? That’s what I want to know?” demanded Ken. George said he was not certain about that, but declared there always was danger if a wounded _javelin_ squealed. Pepe had little to say; he refused to go back after the deer left in the trail. So they rowed across the shoal, and on the way passed within a rod of a big crocodile. “Look at that fellow,” cried George. “Wish I had my rifle loaded. He’s fifteen feet long.” “Oh no, George, he’s not more than ten feet,” said Ken. “You don’t see his tail. He’s a whopper. Pepe told me there was one in this pool. We’ll get him, all right.” They reached camp tired out, and all a little ruffled in temper, which certainly was not eased by the discovery that they were covered with ticks. Following the cue of his companions, Ken hurriedly stripped off his clothes and hung them where they could singe over the camp-fire. There were broad red bands of _pinilius_ round both ankles, and reddish patches on the skin of his arms. Here and there were black spots about the size of his little finger-nail, and these were _garrapatoes_. He picked these off one by one, rather surprised to find them come off so easily. Suddenly he jumped straight up with a pain as fierce as if it had been a puncture from a red-hot wire. Pepe grinned; and George cried: “Aha! that was a garrapato bite, that was! You just wait!”