A Long Chase, and a Happy Termination Thereof.  
Knowing that unless we advanced with more than ordinary speed we could not hope to overtake our friends for several days—a stern chase being proverbially a long one—we travelled a great part of the night as well as all day; and on our third day after quitting the scene of the curious hunt described in the last chapter, we descried the fugitives descending the river about a quarter of a mile ahead of us.
 
Unhappily we made a stupid mistake at this time. Instead of waiting until we were near enough to be recognised, we shouted to our friends the moment we saw their canoe. I cannot say that we knew them to be our friends, but we had every reason to suppose so. The result of our shout was that they supposed us to be enemies, and paddled away as if for their lives. It was in vain that we tried to show by signs that we were not enemies.
 
“Yell!” cried Peterkin, turning to Makarooroo, who sat close behind him.
 
Our guide opened his huge mouth, and gave utterance to a yell that might well have struck terror into the heart of Mars himself.
 
“Stop! stay!” cried Peterkin hastily. “I didn’t mean a war-yell; I meant a yell of—of peace.”
 
“Me no hab a yell ob peace,” said Makarooroo, with a look of perplexity.
 
“I should not suppose you had,” observed Jack, with a quiet laugh, as he dipped his paddle more energetically than ever into the stream.—“The fact is, Peterkin, that we shall have to go in for a long chase. There is no doubt about it. I see that there are at least four men in their canoe, and if one of them is Mbango, as we have reason to believe, a stout and expert arm guides them. But ho! give way! ‘never venture, never win.’”
 
With that we all plied our paddles with our utmost might. The chase soon became very exciting. Ere long it became evident that the crews of the two canoes were pretty equally matched, for we did not, apparently, diminish the distance between us by a single inch during the next half-hour.
 
“What if it turns out not to be Mbango and his party after all?” suggested Peterkin, who wielded his light paddle with admirable effect.
 
Jack, who sat in the bow, replied that in that case we should have to make the best apology and explanation we could to the niggers, and console ourselves with the consciousness of having done our best.
 
For some time the rapid dip of our paddles and the rush of our canoe through the water were the only sounds that were heard. Then Peterkin spoke again. He could never keep silence for any great length of time.
 
“I say, Jack, we’ll never do it. If we had only another man, or even a boy.” (Peterkin glanced at Njamie’s little son, who lay sound asleep at the bottom of the boat.) “No, he won’t do; we might as well ask a mosquito to help us.”
 
“I say, lads, isn’t one of the crew of that canoe a woman?” said Jack, looking over his shoulder, but not ceasing for an instant to ply his paddle.
 
“Can’t tell,” answered Peterkin.—“What say you, Mak?”
 
“Ye-is, massa,” replied the guide, with some hesitation. “Me tink dat am be one ooman’s arm what wag de paddil. Oh! yis, me sartin sure now, dat am a ooman.”
 
“That being the case,” observed Jack, in a tone of satisfaction, “the chase won’t last much longer, for a woman’s muscles can’t hold out long at such a pace. Ho! give way once more.”
 
In less than five minutes the truth of Jack’s remark became apparent, for we began rapidly to overhaul the fugitives. This result acted with a double effect: while it inspirited us to additional exertion, it depressed those whom we were pursuing, and so rendered them less capable than before of contending with us. There was evidently a good deal of excitement and gesticulation among them. Suddenly the man in the stern laid down his paddle, and stooping down seized a gun, with which, turning round, he took deliberate aim at us.
 
“That’s rather awkward,” observed Jack, in a cool, quiet way, as if the awkwardness of the case had no reference whatever to him personally.
 
We did not, however, check our advance. The man fired, and the ball came skipping over the water and passed us at a distance of about two yards.
 
“Hum! I expected as much,” observed Jack. “When a bad shot points a bad gun at you, your best plan is to stand still and take your chance. In such a case the chance is not a bad one. Hollo! the rascal seems about to try it again. I say, boys, we must stop this.”
 
We had now gained so much on the fugitives that we had reason to hope that we might by signs enable them to understand that we were not enemies. We had to make the attempt rather abruptly, for as Jack uttered his last remark, the man in the stern of the canoe we were chasing, having reloaded his gun, turned round to aim at us again. At the same time the rest of the crew suddenly ceased to paddle, in order to enable their comrade to take a steady aim. It was evident that they rested all their hopes upon that shot disabling one of our number, and so enabling them to escape. Seeing this, Makarooroo in desperation seized his rifle and levelled it.
 
“No, no,” said Peterkin, hastily holding up his hand. “Give me your rifle, Mak; and yours, Ralph. Now then, stop paddling for a moment; I’ll try an experiment.”
 
So saying, he sprang to his feet, and grasping a rifle in each hand, ............