“Here comes the biggest crocodile I’ve seen yet. Get a gun, C. C., and have a pop at him. Maybe we could take the skin home for a souvenir.” They all looked to where he pointed. In the gathering dusk they could see some object coming up stream. It did seem larger and higher out of the water than crocodiles usually swim. The motion, too, was different. “Crocodile!” cried Sergeant Hotchkiss, when he had taken a glimpse of it. “That’s no crocodile.” “What is it, then?” asked Blake, curiously. “A native in a dugout canoe,” was the answer. “It’s a solitary native and it’s strange, too, seeing him all alone.” “He’s seen us and he’s going to turn back,” put in Joe. Then Happy One, the leader of the blacks, called out something in his native tongue. There was a moment of silence and back floated an answer across the stream. “What does he say?” asked Mr. Duncan. “Happy One assured him that we were friends,” translated the sergeant; “and asked who he was and where he was going.” “What did he say?” “He said he was a messenger going for help for some captives.” “Help for some captives!” cried Blake. “Maybe he can tell us something about those we are after!” Sergeant Hotchkiss started in surprise, and then shouted something to Happy One, who immediately set up a great shouting. The lone messenger in the canoe, that was hollowed out of a solid tree trunk, hesitated a moment and then waved his paddle. CHAPTER XXII AN AFRICAN CAMP “Here he comes!” cried Joe. “And he doesn’t quite know whether he’s going to be captured, or whether we’re friends,” remarked Blake. “Joe, do you s’pose it’s possible that he can be from--from your sister and her friends?” “I don’t know. It sounds too good to be true. Don’t let Dad hear you say that, or he may be terribly disappointed if it turns out wrong.” The lone messenger was paddling his clumsy boat toward the raft. “We’ll soon know what’s up,” remarked Mr. Piper. “That is, if he can speak any ordinary language.” “Oh, I guess between our natives and the sergeant we can make out,” spoke Blake. The messenger came on more slowly, as though the nearer he approached the more timid he became. They could see him plainly now--a big, tall native with rather more clothes than his kind usually wore. He carried in the boat with him a keen-edged spear and a big club that seemed to have been often used. A little way from the shore he halted his boat by sticking his paddle down in the muddy bottom and then he called out something. Happy One answered and the two carried on quite a conversation, with Sergeant Hotchkiss occasionally putting in a word. “What’s it all about?” called Mr. Duncan, impatiently. “Has he any news for us--good news?” “The very best we could expect!” exclaimed the sergeant. “It appears he is a messenger--one of those captured from the mission station and carried off by the raiders along with the whites.”