Jim Scroggles Rescued, and Glynn and Ailie Lost—A Capture, Upset, Chase, Escape, and Happy Return.  
The merciful manner in which God sends deliverance at the eleventh hour has been so often experienced and recognised, that it has originated the well-known proverb, “Man’s extremity is God’s opportunity;” and this proverb is true not only in reference to man’s soul, but often, also, in regard to his temporal affairs.
 
While the wretched sailor was uttering cries for help, which grew feebler every moment as he sank deeper and deeper into what now he believed should be his grave, his comrades were hastening forward to his rescue.
 
Alarmed at his prolonged absence, they had armed themselves, and set out in search of him, headed by the trader and led by the negro, who tracked his steps with that unerring certainty which seems peculiar to all savages. The shrieks uttered by their poor comrade soon reached their ears, and after some little difficulty, owing to the cries becoming faint, and at last inaudible, they discovered the swamp where he lay, and revived his hope and energy by their shouts. They found him nearly up to the neck in mud, and the little of him that still remained above ground was scarcely recognisable.
 
It cost them nearly an hour, with the aid of poles, and ropes extemporised out of their garments, to drag Jim from his perilous position and place him on solid ground; and after they had accomplished this, it took more than an hour longer to clean him and get him recruited sufficiently to accompany them to the spot where they had left the canoe.
 
The poor man was deeply moved; and when he fully realised the fact that he was saved, he wept like a child, and then thanked God fervently for his deliverance. As the night was approaching, and the canoe, with Ailie in it, had been left in charge only of Glynn Proctor, Jim’s recovery was expedited as much as possible, and as soon as he could walk they turned to retrace their steps.
 
Man knows not what a day or an hour will bring forth. For many years one may be permitted to move on “the even tenor of his way,” without anything of momentous import occurring to mark the passage of his little span of time as it sweeps him onward to eternity. At another period of life, events, it may be of the most startling and abidingly impressive nature, are crowded into a few months or weeks, or even days. So it was now with our travellers on the African river. When they reached the spot where they had dined, no one replied to their shouts. The canoe, Glynn, and the child were gone.
 
On making this terrible discovery the whole party were filled with indescribable consternation, and ran wildly hither and thither, up and down the banks of the river, shouting the names of Glynn Proctor and Ailie, until the woods rang again. Captain Dunning was almost mad with anxiety and horror. His imagination pictured his child in every conceivable danger. He thought of her as drowned in the river and devoured by crocodiles; as carried away by the natives into hopeless captivity; or, perhaps, killed by wild beasts in the forest. When several hours had elapsed, and still no sign of the missing ones could be discovered, he fell down exhausted on the river’s bank, and groaned aloud in his despair.
 
But Ailie was not lost. The Heavenly Father in whom she trusted still watched over and cared for her, and Glynn Proctor’s stout right arm was still by her side to protect her.
 
About half-an-hour after the party had gone off in search of their lost companion, a large canoe, full of negroes, came sweeping down the river. Glynn and Ailie hid themselves in the bushes, and lay perfectly still, hoping they might be passed by. But they forgot that the blue smoke of their fire curled up through the foliage and revealed their presence at once. On observing the smoke, the savages gave a shout, and, running their canoe close in to the bank, leaped ashore and began to scamper through the wood like baboons.
 
Only a few minutes passed before they discovered the two hiders, whom they surrounded and gazed upon in the utmost possible amazement, shouting the while with delight, as if they had discovered a couple of new species of monkey. Glynn was by nature a reckless and hasty youth. He felt the power of a young giant within him, and his first impulse was to leap upon the newcomers, and knock them down right and left. Fortunately, for Ailie’s sake as well as his own, he had wisdom enough to know that though he had possessed the power of ten giants, he could not hope, singly, to overcome twenty negroes, all of whom were strong, active, and lithe as panthers. He therefore assumed a good-humoured free-and-easy air, and allowed himself and Ailie to be looked at and handled without ceremony.
 
The savages were evidently not ill-disposed towards the wanderers. They laughed a great deal, and spoke to each other rapidly in what, to Glynn, was of course an unknown tongue. One who appeared to be the chief of the party passed his long black fingers through Ailie’s glossy curls with evident surprise and delight. He then advanced to Glynn, and said something like—
 
“Holli—boobo—gaddle—bump—um—peepi—daddle—dumps.”
 
To which Glynn replied very naturally, “I don’t understand you.”
 
Of course he did not. And he might have known well enough that the negro could not understand him. But he deemed it wiser to make a reply of some kind, however unintelligible, than to stand like a post and say nothing.
 
Again the negro spoke, and again Glynn made the same reply; whereupon the black fellow turned round to his comrades and looked at them, and they, in reply to the look, burst again into an immoderate fit of laughter, and cut a variety of capers, the very simplest of which would have made the fortune of any merry-andrew in the civilised world, had he been able to execute it. This was all very well, no doubt, and exceedingly amusing, not to say surprising; but it became quite a different matter when, after satisfying their curiosity, these dark gentlemen coolly collected the property of the white men, stowed it away in the small canoe, and made signs to Glynn and Ailie to enter.
 
Glynn showed a decided objection to obey, on which two stout fellows seized him by the shoulders, and pointed sternly to the canoe, as much as to say, “Hobbi-doddle-hoogum-toly-whack,” which, being interpreted (no doubt) meant, “If you don’t go quietly, we’ll force you.”
 
Again the young sailor’s spirit leaped up. He clenched his fists, his brow flushed crimson, and, in another instant, whatever might have been the consequence, the two negroes would certainly have lain recumbent on the sward, had it not suddenly occurred to Glynn that he might, by appearing to submit, win the confidence of his captors, and, at the first night-encampment, quietly make his escape with Ailie in his arms!
 
Glynn was at that romantic age when young men have a tendency to think themselves capable of doing almost anything, with or without ordinary facilities, and in the face of any amount of adverse circumstance. He therefore stepped willingly and even cheerfully into the canoe, in which his and his comrades’ baggage had been already stowed, and, seating himself in the stern, took up the steering-paddle. He was ordered to quit that post, however, in favour of a powerful negro, and made to sit in the bow and paddle there. Ailie was placed with great care in the centre of the canoe among a heap of soft leopard-skins; for the savages evidently regarded her as something worth preserving—a rare and beautiful specimen, perhaps, of the white monkey!
 
This done, they leaped into their large canoe, and, attaching the smaller one to it by means of a rope, paddled out from the bank, and descended the stream.
 
“Oh! Glynn,” exclaimed Ailie, in a whisper—for she felt that things were beginning to look serious—“what are we to do?”
 
“Indeed, my pet, I don’t know,” replied Glynn, looking round and encountering the gaze of the negro in the stern, at whom he frowned darkly, and received a savage grin by way of reply.
 
“I would like so much to say something to you,” continued Ailie, “but I’m afraid he will know what I say.”
 
“Never fear, Ailie; he’s as deaf as a post to our language. Out with it.”
 
“Could you not,” she said, in a half-whisper, “cut the rope, and then paddle away back while they are paddling down the river?”
 
Glynn laughed in spite of himself at this proposal.
 
“And what, my pretty one,” he said, “what should we do with the fellow in the stern? Besides, the rascals in front might take it into their heads to paddle after us, you know, and what then?”
 
“I’m sure I don’t know,” said Ailie, beginning to cry.
 
“Now, don’t cry, my darling,” said Glynn, looking over his shoulder with much concern. “I’ll manage to get you out of this scrape somehow—now see if I don’t.”
 
The youth spoke so confidently, that the child felt somehow comforted, so drying her eyes she lay back among the leopard-skins, where, giving vent to an occasional sob, she speedily fell fast asleep.
 
They continued to advance thus in silence for nearly an hour, crossed a small lake, and again entered the river. After descending this some time, the attention of the whole party was attracted to a group of hippopotami, gambolling in the mud-banks and in the river a short distance ahead. At any other time Glynn would have been interested in the sight of these uncouth monsters, but he had seen so many within the last few days that he was becoming comparatively indifferent to them, and at that moment he was too much filled with anxiety to take any notice of them. The creatures themselves, however, did not seem to be so utterly indifferent to the strangers. They continued their gambols until the canoes were quite near, and then they dived. Now, hippopotami, as we have before hinted, are clumsy and stupid creatures, so much so that they occasionally run against and upset boats and canoes, quite unintentionally. Knowing this, the natives in the large canoe kept a sharp look-out in order to steer clear of them.
 
They had almost succeeded in passing the place, when a huge fellow, like a sugar-punchean, rose close to the small canoe, and grazed it with his tail. Apparently he considered this an attack made upon him by the boat, for he wheeled round in a rage, and swam violently towards it. The negro and Glynn sprang to their feet on the instant, and the former raised his paddle to deal the creature a blow on the head. Before he could do so, Glynn leaped lightly over Ailie, who had just awakened, caught the savage by the ankles, and tossed him overboard. He fell with a heavy splash just in front of the cavernous jaws of the hippopotamus! In fact, he had narrowly escaped falling head-first into the creature’s open throat.
 
The nearness of the animal at the time was probably the means of saving the negro’s life, for it did not observe where he had vanished to, as he sank under its chin, and was pushed by its forelegs right under its body. In its effort to lay hold of the negro, the hippopotamus made a partial dive, and thus passed the small canoe. When it again rose to the surface the large canoe met its eye. At this it rushed, drove its hammer-like skull through the light material of which it was made, and then seizing the broken ends in its strong jaws upset the canoe, and began to rend it to pieces in its fury.
 
Before this occurred, the crew had leaped into the water, and were now swimming madly to the shore. At the same moment Glynn cut the line that fastened the two canoes together, and seizing his paddle, urged his craft up the river as fast as possible. But his single arm could not drive it with much speed against the stream, and before he had advanced a dozen yards, one of the natives overtook him and several more followed close behind. Glynn allowed the first one to come near, and then gave him a tremendous blow on the head with the edge of the paddle.
 
The young sailor was not in a gentle frame of mind at that time, by any means. The blow was given with a will, and would probably have fractured the skull of a white man; but that of a negro is proverbially thick. The fellow was only stunned, and fell back among his comrades, who judiciously considering that such treatment was not agreeable and ought not to be courted, put about, and made for the shore.
 
Glynn now kept his canoe well over to the left side of the stream while the savages ran along the right bank, yelling ferociously and occasionally attempting to swim towards him, but without success. He was somewhat relieved, and sent them a shout of defiance, which was returned, of course with interest. Still he felt that his chance of escape was poor. He was becoming exhausted by the constant and violent exertion that was necessary in order to make head against the stream. The savages knew this, and bided their time.
 
As he continued to labour slowly up, Glynn came to the mouth of a small stream which joined the river. He knew not where it might lead to, but feeling that he could not hold out much longer, he turned into it, without any very definite idea as to what he would attempt next. The str............