Threading this tortuous channel for perhaps a hundred yards, he came with startling suddenness upon the object of his search. The reeds came to an end, and on a stretch of firm ground, rising three or four feet above the level of the swamp, four or five low ramshackle huts, constructed of poles and matting, stood about thirty yards back from the edge of the water. The space between them and the water was littered with an extraordinary miscellany of objects, all of them of a more or less imperishable character--pots and pans, vases, tiles, native images, and other things, which from their arrangement in bales, bundles, or stacks, appeared to be articles of merchandise, but not in actual use here. With his knowledge of the kind of thing that went on in these swamps, Errington at once guessed that these objects were the spoil of trading vessels captured by the river pirates and brought to this cunningly devised or carefully sought hiding-place. There were black rings here and there on the ground that were without doubt the marks of camp-fires. But the place had a deserted, a neglected, look. The huts were boarded up, except where they were so tumbledown that no such precaution was possible. Three or four old and rickety sampans were drawn up at the brink. But the object which had been towed by the dinghy was floating, secured by a rope to one of the uprights of a ruined hut close to the shore. Errington looked at it curiously. It appeared from its shape to be a boat of some kind, but being completely covered with matting its outlines were indistinguishable. Wondering what its contents could be, to be so carefully covered up, Errington punted the sampan alongside, and lifted a corner of the matting. What he saw gave him a surprise comparable only to a galvanic shock. Underneath was a stretch of canvas that exactly resembled a wing of the flying boat, folded back, as Burroughs’ custom was when the vessel was not in use. Lifting the matting further, Errington had no more doubt. The object before him, shapeless and ungainly as it was under its cover, was indeed the flying boat. Lo San’s astonishment was equal to his own. The Chinaman uttered a smothered "Hai!" then looked fearfully around, as if expecting that the sound would bring a crew of the dreaded pirates yelling about them. But there was no sound, no sign of life.