Actually how long it stuck there neither of them knew. The moon sank lower, glowing, molten; myriads of mosquitoes beat about them, bit their faces, hands, and feet; the river seemed as stagnant as a pool. Trixie felt paralysed, as in a nightmare. What if they were kept prisoners till the dawn--even longer--even till George should have returned to the bungalow and found her absent? All at once, with a lurch, the boat shot free, and Trixie burst into tears of relief. Guy Greaves felt almost hysterical himself. "It's all right now, Trixie. Don't cry." He spoke with cheerful reassurance. "I'll row hard, and we shall catch the others up in no time." "They must have landed long ago," she quavered. "Can't we go back to the starting-place? It must be nearer." "But the traps were to meet us at the grove," he reminded her. "We should have to walk all the way home if we went back, and that would take ever so much longer." "Supposing the others haven't waited," she suggested nervously. "It would be just like them. They can't all get into the same trap, and they'd take yours and leave us to fish for ourselves without caring twopence!" Her agitation rendered her petulant and pessimistic. "You know how thoughtless and inconsiderate Mrs. Roy can be. That is why George can't bear her." "Oh, nonsense! Mrs. Roy's dog-cart holds four at a pinch, if they let the syce follow. Even if they did take my trap, they'd send it back to meet us. Anyway, don't worry about that till we get there." He rowed harder than ever, infected in spite of himself by Trixie's forebodings; and he felt hardly surprised to see only the boatman awaiting them on the rough little landing-stage. "What did I tell you!" said Trixie, a catch of despair in her voice. "They wouldn't wait down here," he said, as he helped her out of the boat. "Are the sahibs up above in the grove?" he inquired of the man. The answer was given with drowsy indifference. "I know not. The order was given to wait for this boat, and take it back with the other." They stumbled on up the slope that was steep and uneven, Trixie clinging to Guy, her breath coming fast and audible. "Do coo-ee," she urged him, "I feel I must know if they're there." He obeyed her. His voice rang clear through the trees and over the river, but echo was all the reply it received. In disconsolate silence they reached the flat ground at the top of the cliff, and plunged into the mysterious gloom of the grove. A weak little breeze had arisen, wandering through the trees, like a sighing soul that could not escape from the burial place; here and there they could see the dim outlines of tombs, dome-shaped, or flat-topped and square, touched by the light of the moon that filtered down through the foliage. "They are not here. They have gone," said Trixie hopelessly. "They are outside, waiting on the road," said Guy Greaves.