"The very thing," was George's delighted reply. "Now, Walford," he continued, "lie down on that canvas, old fellow, and we'll soon have you slung comfortably in your hammock between us, where you will travel without much pain to your poor chest. That's it; now, Tom, pass the end of the pole through this eye; capital! now through the other; that's your sort! Now I'll take the fore end of the pole and you the after end; lift handsomely; have you got your end on your shoulder? Then off we go. We have not such a very great distance to travel--only some twenty miles or so--but we must get over the ground as quickly as possible; for when once nine o'clock to-morrow morning has passed, we may make certain that they'll be after us; so we must reach the coast by that time, or soon after it, if we wish to get clear off." And in this manner, with Walford slung in his impromptu hammock between them, George and Tom set off upon the wearisome journey which lay before them, and which, they fondly hoped, was to end in the absolute recovery of their liberty. _Tramp, tramp; splash, splash_; on they trudged,--stumbling over the roots of trees, tripping over the long, tough, straggling creepers which crossed their path, sometimes brought-up "all standing" and half-strangled by the cord-like _llianas_ which hung festooned from tree to tree, their naked feet and legs torn by thorns and stabbed by the spines of the wild cactus--in thick impenetrable darkness for a couple of hours, and then the clouds suddenly vanished away on the wings of the land-breeze, the stars reappeared, the soft silvery rays of the moon streamed down once more through the gaps in the foliage, and the weary fugitives flung themselves down upon the sodden ground for a short breathing-space. George was of opinion that, from the time they had been tramping through the forest, they ought to have very nearly reached its southern skirts; but as far as the eye could penetrate, in the uncertain moonlight, through the sylvan vistas, there was no sign of break or opening of any kind; nothing but an apparently endless succession of trees and dense undergrowth. Seeing this, Leicester began to feel uneasy. He knew that they had been travelling through the timber in anything but a straight line--indeed, to do so would have been simply a physical impossibility-- and he began to fear that, in spite of all his efforts to avoid such a misfortune, they had been journeying along the arc of a circle, instead of progressing steadily in a southerly direction. The wanderers were beginning to feel thoroughly fatigued, what with their day's work in the fields, their exposure during the storm, and their painful tramp afterwards; but George felt that, fatigued or not, they must push on; liberty _must_ be secured first; when that was won, they could afford time to rest, but not until then.