A desire for revenge acted as an almost equally powerful incentive
to spur him into the face of danger to accomplish his design, so
that it was a desperate man that lay hidden in the foliage beside
the little river searching with eager eyes for some sign of a small
canoe which might be easily handled by a single paddle.
Nor had the Russian long to wait before one of the awkward little
skiffs which the Mosula fashion came in sight upon the bosom of
the river. A youth was paddling lazily out into midstream from a
point beside the village. When he reached the channel he allowed
the sluggish current to carry him slowly along while he lolled
indolently in the bottom of his crude canoe.
All ignorant of the unseen enemy upon the river's bank the lad
floated slowly down the stream while Paulvitch followed along the
jungle path a few yards behind him.
A mile below the village the black boy dipped his paddle into the
water and forced his skiff toward the bank. Paulvitch, elated by
the chance which had drawn the youth to the same side of the river
as that along which he followed rather than to the opposite side
where he would have been beyond the stalker's reach, hid in the
brush close beside the point at which it was evident the skiff would
touch the bank of the slow-moving stream, which seemed jealous of
each fleeting instant which drew it nearer to the broad and muddy
Ugambi where it must for ever lose its identity in the larger stream
that would presently cast its waters into the great ocean.
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