He tried wagging his head and calling to his captors. But not one took the smallest notice of him. Then Dicky made a second attempt, shouting loudly. At once a huge native who was leading this silent party turned, scowled at the midshipman, and prodded him with the blunt end of a spear. "And looks as if he'd use the business end next time," thought Dick, eyeing the ruffian. "This is a turn up. And I wonder what's happened to Alec and the others?" But he was destined to be kept waiting, for those silent natives still forged their way through the jungle, and when they had been moving for some time and had unceremoniously pitched Dick to the ground as if he were a bundle, it was only for a momentary rest. Another batch of men who till then had been hidden in the jungle picked him up upon their shoulders, and the same solitary dispiriting march was continued. At length, however, it came to an end. The jungle became thinner, and the trees more scattered. Then they suddenly emerged into the open and entered a village built by the bank of a river. Natives swarmed from the low-built huts, women, men, and children, and danced about the captive. Their chatter and their cries came as a positive relief to our hero after the deathly silence of the others. He was carried across to one of the huts, the door was opened, and a moment later Dick was sent rolling. "And jolly nearly broke my arm in the fall," he growled, beginning to get angry. "A nice way in which to treat a captive, to treat a fellow they may be thinking of devouring." That was Dicky Hamshaw all over. He couldn't help a joke, even at his own expense, and there he was actually smiling in the darkness of this native cabin. But comfort is a great thing, even in the midst of adversity, and at once he rolled over and managed to prop himself upright against one of the plaited walls. "Wish they hadn't been so free with these creepers," he grumbled. "A chap can't move, while my hands and feet feel absolutely numb. Now, how does a fellow tackle an ugly job such as this is? Of course, if there was another here, Alec, for instance, or that beggar Hawkins, we'd try our hands at gnawing. No, not hands; teeth, of course. But I ain't an acrobat, and can't twist my head round to get at this binding." He could hardly move, in fact, and as the minutes passed the numbness of the hands and feet became more apparent. It was clear that if he were to make no effort now he would not have the strength to do so if he delayed much longer. And for that reason, and because the midshipman was a good plucked 'un, as Hawkins had often and often asserted, he managed to get to his knees, though they were lashed together, and slowly jerked himself across the floor of the hut. The movement brought him to the opposite wall, close to the part where the door was situated, and there he discovered a crevice through which he could look.