The smiling
lips tensed to the nervous shock of a momentary agony which the
conscious mind never apprehended, and then the dead sank limply
back into that deepest of slumbers from which there is no awakening.
The killer dropped quickly into the skiff beside the killed.
Ruthless hands seized the dead boy heartlessly and raised him to
the low gunwale. A little shove, a splash, some widening ripples
broken by the sudden surge of a dark, hidden body from the slimy
depths, and the coveted canoe was in the sole possession of the
white man--more savage than the youth whose life he had taken.
Casting off the tie rope and seizing the paddle, Paulvitch bent
feverishly to the task of driving the skiff downward toward the
Ugambi at top speed.
Night had fallen when the prow of the bloodstained craft shot
out into the current of the larger stream. Constantly the Russian
strained his eyes into the increasing darkness ahead in vain
endeavour to pierce the black shadows which lay between him and
the anchorage of the Kincaid.
Was the ship still riding there upon the waters of the Ugambi, or
had the ape-man at last persuaded himself of the safety of venturing
forth into the abating storm? As Paulvitch forged ahead with the
current he asked himself these questions, and many more beside,
not the least disquieting of which were those which related to his
future should it chance that the Kincaid had already steamed away,
leaving him to the merciless horrors of the savage wilderness.
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