“There he is now, eating the bees and grubs,” said Blake, pointing to the wise little creature which had been joined by others like it. They were having a great feast, and indeed it seems that the bird does lead men to the nest of bees in order that it may get what otherwise it could not--a share of the sweet stuff and the succulent larvæ. The honey formed a welcome addition to their meal. The rafts were completed now, and the next day the expedition started down the river, the pack animals having been left behind. The trip down the stream was interesting. There was not so much life to be seen as there was in the jungle, but there were any number of crocodiles--big ones that seemed at first to be mere floating logs, but which soon came to life when the raft passed. A number of pictures were made of the unprepossessing saurians and, once or twice, great hippopotami came so close that it seemed they were going to attack the rafts. But the big boats were too solid to cause any fear in regard to them, and Joe and Blake filmed the huge creatures as they swam alongside, often with their mouths open to their widest extent. The progress was not fast, but it was much easier than traveling through the jungle. There were no bundles to carry, and the blacks seemed to appreciate this. All day long they stretched out on the rafts, improvising their queer chants and songs, now poleing the craft out from the shore when the current carried them too far in, or keeping out from rapids they might run upon. At times a halt would be made to enable game to be shot, for it was necessary to keep the party in meat, and it all had to be killed fresh in that equatorial climate. They had been four days going down the river and were beginning to wonder when they would come near the location of the kidnapping natives. Mr. Duncan was beginning to get more and more worried as he approached what he hoped would prove to be the place where his daughter was held captive. “Oh, if Jessie is only alive and unharmed!” he exclaimed, “everything else will be all right.” “Of course she’ll be,” declared C. C. Piper, who had only once or twice relapsed into his former gloomy moods. “Of course she’ll be all right and we’ll soon find her.” “We’ll have to send out a scouting party soon,” declared Sergeant Hotchkiss. “Why?” Joe wanted to know. “Because we don’t want to come upon that native camp unexpectedly. We don’t want to rush into danger. There may be a big crowd of ’em and if we can take ’em unawares we’ll have so much the better chance to rout ’em. Yes, we must soon send out a scouting party.” “Can Joe and I go?” asked Blake, eagerly. “Hum! Well, I suppose so,” was the former soldier’s answer. “But we’ll need some native guides, too.” They had moored the rafts to the river bank that evening, for they did not want to chance running down the stream in the dark, and were just making a camp when Blake, who was looking across the water, called out: