Nick and his two assistants dashed through the undergrowth and gained the edge of the wood. They caught a glimpse of the river and their boat, with the four oarsmen seated, ready to row away at the word of command. Patsy gave a low chuckle of satisfaction. As he said afterward, that boat, with the four black men as crew, looked very good to him just then. Standing on the bank, close to the boat, were Jefferson Arnold and Jai Singh, each with a rifle in his hand. It was their shots that had taken the nerve out of the enemy. “Jump for the boat!” bellowed Jefferson Arnold. “Jump!” echoed Jai Singh. They did jump. CHAPTER VII. ADIL TELLS HIS STORY. It was a big leap in the darkness, especially for men half spent by a laborious run. But the three were all strung up, and they had more spring in them than might have been expected. They dropped into the boat higgledy-piggledy, and immediately Jefferson Arnold and Jai Singh followed. “Hack away that rope at the bow!” roared Arnold. Jai Singh, ax in hand, obeyed, just as one of the pursuing natives poised his spear to send it at Chick. Nick Carter had seen the action in time, however. Although the detective had dropped into the boat all in a heap, he had kept his automatic pistol in his right hand, while holding the now unloaded rifle in his left. Up went his revolver as the Hindu raised his spear. The pistol roared before the spear could leave its owner’s hand. The native crumpled up as the bullet reached him. His companions did not press forward quite so fast. They were disposed to be cautious now, although none the less vindictive. The boat swung out to the middle of the river, as the rowers dug in their oars to save the yawl from yielding to the strong current made by the falls a little distance below. As the coolies bent to their work, two spears flew at them. One went clear over their heads, but the other caught the stroke oarsman in the forearm, making a nasty, jagged wound. The injured man rowed on doggedly, only glancing carelessly down at the great red scar in his brown arm, as if to see how bad it might be. He seemed satisfied that it would not disable him, and the shrug with which he took his eyes off it told how little he cared for what did not seem such a trifle, after all. The river was wide at this point. So, five hundred yards farther up, and about that distance from the shore, Nick Carter directed Jai Singh to let go the light anchor they carried. As the tall Hindu obeyed, the boat swung gently around to her cable. In the after part of the boat there was an awning of bamboo, thatched with palm leaves. At Nick’s suggestion, lanterns were lighted under this awning, so that they might look themselves over and see what damage had been done. First of all, Nick took a roll of antiseptic bandage from his pocket and bound up the wound on the arm of the stroke oar, putting on some salve that he always carried in his “first-aid” kit.