"My knowledge is vast, yet even a wise man may forget. This black guide reminds me that the trail to the land of the Iron-heads is through swamps. The land is treacherous. It hardly bears a man's weight and the horses would sink in it and be lost."
"We have to _walk_ it," groaned Dan. "And carry our eats on our backs!"
Raal growled and touched his axe handle. "I am ready to go afoot, now!" he asserted.
"Nay, now! Listen to the words of wisdom. I, Mahatma Sikandar, am not the one to be discouraged by difficulties. I have a better plan."
"Patience! Patience! We must all go back instead of forward."
"And some miles back from here we are close to a river where my tribesmen have many canoes."
"They will have to be big ones to carry our horses," said Dan.
"The horses will be put in a corral by the river," went on the Hindu. "My men will build a corral quickly. Meanwhile we can start out in comfort, paddling down the smooth river to a point within a mile of the enemy camp!"
He explained to Raal how that would save time; for a canoe could be paddled more than twice as fast as it would take to travel through a swamp.
Raal smiled joyfully at this news and muttered, "Good! Longbeard, good!"
"Hooray for Old Whiskers! He has thought up a good idea at last," said Dan. "But say," he whispered to Dick, "Sikandar didn't think of that. It was the black guide. The wise old boy is just stealing the credit for it."
Mahatma Sikandar scowled at Dan and said, "A fool and his folly cannot be parted! As I told you, we saved time by talking and taking counsel."
"Okay, let's go!" said Dick. "We travel by canoe to within a mile of the camp, you say? How is the trail from there?"
Sikandar asked the guide a question. The latter burst out in noisy explanation.
"From the river, there is hardly any trail but just a dense growth of trees, vines and creepers. It is full of wild beasts and huge snakes. We must cut a path. But the distance is not great."
"Let's be on our way," said Dick. "I can see that Raal is keen to start."
"Patience, patience!" said the Mahatma, but already Dick had shouted an order, the horsemen mounted and Mutaba led the way to the river.
When the party reached the bank of the stream, a broad, sluggish river, almost entirely overhung with the great trees alive with parrots and chattering monkeys, they found that swift-footed natives had already reached it by taking short cuts. No time had been wasted. Vines, tough creepers and branches had been woven between growing trees to form a large enclosure where the horses could be held in safety.