This truth flashed upon me with all the power of instantaneous conviction. I forgot the stakes and all the line of speculation which their mysterious presence had engendered. I looked toward that green gate of deliverance. Mentally I saw myself rowing and drifting down this gentle, winding current, hastening away from this extraordinary land—away from this jungle fastness to the great open sea. A thousand suggestions came tumbling in upon me, as to how to provision my boat, how to leave the Links, how to sleep at night on “Outlet” river, how to search for a village when I should find myself at last free, and how then to take a steamer and hasten back to the world which was really a world! “The outlet!” I muttered in fervent thankfulness. “Freedom—Life—Home!” I was wrought to a fever in my excitement of hope; I was all but transported, thus to find the gate that let me out of my prison of greenery, when suddenly I nearly froze from chills and paralysis of all my senses and blood-circulation. A voice rose clear in the silence of ended day—a human voice, in that wilderness of jungle and jungle-creatures,—a voice pronouncing words in English—a singular mixture of words with no reason. Then presently they settled into the musical order of poetry: “There was a sound of revelry by night, And Belgium’s capital had gathered then Her beauty and her chivalry, and bright The lamps shone o’er fair women and brave men, And when music arose with its voluptuous——” I arose to cry out at the top of my voice. A human being—a man, no doubt, was in reach of my voice—a friend, companion, perhaps, to share my fate and solitude! I filled my lungs for a mighty halloo—a cry to this partner in exile—when out from the trees on the bank, not a spear’s throw distant, issued a black, ungainly form—and then another. Links! They were black Missing Links! Those stakes were theirs! I had found their camp. The voice—this human being—was he then a prisoner? What did it mean—and what should I do? To cry out meant instant detection—perhaps immediate death. The two had failed to see me—they might go back. But I was drifting—drifting toward them. One of them turned about. A yell went up immediately. I was known. The alarm spread like prairie-fire, up through the wood. I swung the boat about like mad and headed for the lake. A club came whizzing through the air, struck in the water beside the boat and splashed me with spray. A score of the villainous looking devils came running to join their companions. Along the bank they dashed in pursuit, crying out and making crazy gesticulations. The water foamed where it left the oars and it rippled and swashed from the prow of my craft. Club after club came hurtling toward me, end over end. One of these struck the stern a resounding thump; the demons cried out savagely and showered more. A small one would have dashed out my brains had I not been quick to duck to the bottom of the boat.