He could not tell what the time was; it was too dark to see his watch. His pain grew worse at every step, and though he limped along gamely, he had at length to confess himself done, and sank to the ground. His distress of mind was as great as that of his body. Was he doomed to fail? As he crouched miserably in the grass he heard the swirling of the river close at his right hand. He would go to it and bathe his aching legs. Bill expostulated: there were sure to be crocodiles; but John would not be gainsaid. He dragged himself towards the river, and sat down to rest on a small tree-trunk which had apparently been washed ashore. In the faint light he saw others dotted about. An idea flashed upon him. Could they make a raft? Bill had never heard of such a thing: John did not know if there was a word for it. But he made him understand that he was to collect some of the smaller logs, and then to lash them together with strands of the creeping plants which grew in abundance around. It was hard work and slow in the darkness, John himself being unable to move freely; but at length something in the semblance of a raft lay beside him. Rising with difficulty, he helped Bill to carry it the few yards to the water; then, peering around for crocodiles, which they would hardly have seen if any had lain there, they launched the raft and managed to scramble on board, each carrying a branch to steer with. The current was swift; there was no need for paddling; and thus, perched precariously on their crazy craft, they floated down the stream. At times they heard movements on one bank or the other. Once they heard the horrid snap of a crocodile’s jaws. A little farther on the raft bumped against something; there was a swirl of water, and John went hot and cold at the suspicion that they had collided with a hippopotamus. The current bore them past in safety, to his inexpressible relief; one heave of the monster’s body would have turned them over. So they went on, how long John could not tell. The darkness seemed to be lifting: from the banks came sounds of awakening life: where were they? The river was flowing more swiftly; it was racing; and John suddenly realized with a gasp that he had entered the rapids at the head of the pool. With frantic movements of the paddles they tried to steer into the bank; but the current was too much for them; the lumbering craft was swept along at ever quickening speed; they were helpless. Dropping their paddles--the spear was already gone--they held on for dear life to the lashings. Some of them snapped: one of the outer logs was wrenched away; the raft whirled round, and every moment John expected it to break apart and hurl them into the race. Still he clung on with convulsive grip. Bill was flat on his face with his hands over the edge. On they went, jerked and jarred, until with startling suddenness they were shot over a rock, and found themselves floating on the pool.