"Well, I knew jolly well I hadn't a chance with the beggars at running," said the mid of the maintop modestly, "and so after a bit, when I found they were catching me up hand-over-fist, and I was jolly well losing my wind, I just swarmed up a dense tree that overhung the banks of the river, and stowed myself away amongst the thickest branches--just like Charles II. in the Boscobel oak! I'm certain the beggars knew I was up a tree, but, owing to the darkness and the thickness of this patch of jungle, they never found me. For a long time after daylight I could hear the shouts and cries of natives, and did not dare to descend. Then a long silence ensued, but I still lay low, thinking it might be a trap set for me; but I believe now that the news of your advance upon their village had reached them, compelling them to go back and assist in its defence. After waiting a long time, I concluded that the coast was clear, and went down the tree like a shot. Following the river, I discovered by great good luck a canoe made fast amongst some thick reeds. There were paddles on board, and I hopped in like a house on fire and sculled down the river as if all the hippopotami and alligators in Africa were after me! I needn't spin you the rest of the yarn, for here I am safe and sound and as fit as a fiddle!" "But how about them there bloodstains on the floor of the hut you were imprisoned in, sir?" queried a sceptical old quartermaster standing by; "and I didn't see no hole dug under the wall abaft, not so much as a bread-room rat could creep through." Thring explained briefly to his chum what had been seen during the occupation of the village. Jack laughed heartily. "It's evident that native prisoner was laughing in his sleeve at you," he said, "and took you to a house where they had been killing some fowls. You always _were_ rather green, Thring, old chap, weren't you? I say, what an adventure this'll be to tell the mater, won't it?"