They looked at each other in speechless anxiety. The men had ceased work on the second raft; they all knew what had occurred, and gazed at their white leaders with troubled countenances. "There’s one desperate chance," said Ferrier at length. "Juma is nearest. Deal with him before the others come up." John stared at him for a moment with brightening eyes. Then he sprang up. "Right!" he cried. "It’s the one chance. But we can’t risk it without knowing a little of the ground. I’ll go out with Bill and have a look at it, if you’ll stay and keep a look-out for the down-stream lot." The two set off at once. Bill led the way rapidly round the village and further up the hill until they reached the summit. From this point the ground fell away to the plain, and rather less than a mile away John descried the knoll of which Bill had spoken, the peninsula from which it rose jutting out into the river. It was densely covered with vegetation, and on the other side of the stream there was a similar screen. Only a short reach of the river was visible, but here he saw negroes wading waist-deep. They were crossing, however, not to the far side, but from it. Juma had thought it better to bring his porters to the ivory than the reverse. Apparently none of it had yet been transported from bank to bank; but it was all laid in readiness. Bill gazed at the scene with an expression of mingled grief and rage. Suddenly he stretched forth his hand, pointing towards the trees on the near side of the river. At first John could not see anything but the dense mass of foliage; but presently he discerned two negroes standing motionless at the foot of the knoll. Clearly Juma had posted them as scouts to give warning of any movement from the village. So many years had passed since the defeat of his safari that the likelihood of the people suspecting his search for the treasure was small, especially since they were obviously unaware of its location. But with the remembrance of their hostility in his mind he was evidently uneasy.