"Get up, you varmint!" he cried. "Is that the fashion uv keeping gyard?"
But as soon as he had passed on the man rolled over, gave a grunt, and was fast asleep again.
Meanwhile Samba had walked on towards the river bank, stopping at intervals to listen. He heard nothing; not even the usual nightly sounds came to him; the surrounding forest seemed asleep. But suddenly, Pat became restless and uttered a rumbling growl. Samba held him close and whispered to him, and the dog apparently understood, for the growl ceased. Then Samba caught the faint sound of paddles up-stream--a sound so familiar to him that he could not be mistaken.
He crept cautiously along, up the gradual ascent, until he came near the summit of the overhanging cliff. Moving stealthily to the edge he peered over; but in the blackness he could see nothing. The sound had ceased.
Feeling his way carefully with his bare feet, Samba slowly made his way down the grassy cliff until he came near the water's edge, then crept along the bank up stream. Again Pat uttered his low growl, but was instantly silent in response to the boy's whispered warning. Samba seemed to find his way by instinct over the uneven ground. Now and again he heard a beast scurry away at his approach and rustle through the bushes or plunge into the river; but he was not afraid: there was little risk of encountering a dangerous animal, and he was too far above the sandy level to stumble upon a crocodile lying in wait.
He went on steadily. It was not a native custom to move about in the dark hours, and, remembering what had happened the night before, he was intent upon discovering the business of the mysterious paddlers. After Pat's last smothered growl he proceeded more cautiously than ever. At last the sound of low voices ahead made him halt. Whispering again to Pat, who licked his hand as if to reassure him, he set the dog down and crept forward again, bending low, and taking care, dark as it was, to avail himself of every bush for cover. To judge by the voices, a large number of men must have gathered at some point not far ahead. He drew still nearer. All at once he halted again, and laid a hand on Pat's neck. Among the voices he had distinguished one that he knew only too well: it was that of his uncle Boloko. He stood rooted to the spot with dismay.