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All ignorant of the unseen enemy upon the river's bank
the lad floated slowly down the stream while Paulvitch
followed along the jungle path a few yards behind him。
A mile below the village the black boy dipped his paddle
into the water and forced his skiff toward the bank。
Paulvitch； elated by the chance which had drawn the youth to
the same side of the river as that along which he followed
rather than to the opposite side where he would have been
beyond the stalker's reach； hid in the brush close beside
the point at which it was evident the skiff would touch the
bank of the slow…moving stream； which seemed jealous of each
fleeting instant which drew it nearer to the broad and muddy
Ugambi where it must for ever lose its identity in the larger
stream that would presently cast its waters into the great ocean。
Equally indolent were the motions of the Mosula youth as
he drew his skiff beneath an overhanging limb of a great tree
that leaned down to implant a farewell kiss upon the bosom
of the departing water； caressing with green fronds the soft
breast of its languorous love。
And； snake…like； amidst the concealing foliage lay the
malevolent Russ。 Cruel； shifty eyes gloated upon the outlines
of the coveted canoe； and measured the stature of its owner；
while the crafty brain weighed the chances of the white man
should physical encounter with the black become necessary。
Only direct necessity could drive Alexander Paulvitch to
personal conflict； but it was indeed dire necessity which
goaded him on to action now。
There was time； just time enough； to reach the Kincaid
by nightfall。 Would the black fool never quit his skiff？
Paulvitch squirmed and fidgeted。 The lad yawned and stretched。
With exasperating deliberateness he examined the arrows in his
quiver； tested his bow； and looked to the edge upon the
hunting…knife in his loin…cloth。
Again he stretched and yawned； glanced up at the river…bank；
shrugged his shoulders； and lay down in the bottom of his canoe
for a little nap before he plunged into the jungle after the prey
he had come forth to hunt。
Paulvitch half rose； and with tensed muscles stood glaring
down upon his unsuspecting victim。 The boy's lids drooped
and closed。 Presently his breast rose and fell to the deep
breaths of slumber。 The time had come！
The Russian crept stealthily nearer。 A branch rustled beneath
his weight and the lad stirred in his sleep。 Paulvitch drew
his revolver and levelled it upon the black。 For a moment he
remained in rigid quiet； and then again the youth relapsed
into undisturbed slumber。
The white man crept closer。 He could not chance a shot
until there was no risk of missing。 Presently he leaned close
above the Mosula。 The cold steel of the revolver in his hand
insinuated itself nearer and nearer to the breast of the
unconscious lad。 Now it stopped but a few inches above
the strongly beating heart。
But the pressure of a finger lay between the harmless boy
and eternity。 The soft bloom of youth still lay upon the brown
cheek； a smile half parted the beardless lips。 Did any qualm of
conscience point its disquieting finger of reproach at the murderer？
To all such was Alexander Paulvitch immune。 A sneer curled
his bearded lip as his forefinger closed upon the trigger
of his revolver。 There was a loud report。 A little hole
appeared above the heart of the sleeping boy； a little hole
about which lay a blackened rim of powder…burned flesh。
The youthful body half rose to a sitting posture。 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 manmore 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。
In the darkness it seemed to the paddler that he was fairly
flying over the water； and he had become convinced that the
ship had left her moorings and that he had already passed the
spot at which she had lain earlier in the day； when there
appeared before him beyond a projecting point which he had
but just rounded the flickering light from a ship's lantern。
Alexander Paulvitch could scarce restrain an exclamation of triumph。
The Kincaid had not departed！ Life and vengeance were not to elude
him after all。
He stopped paddling the moment that he descried the gleaming beacon
of hope ahead of him。 Silently he drifted down the muddy waters
of the Ugambi； occasionally dipping his paddle's blade gently
into the current that he might guide his primitive craft
to the vessel's side。
As he approached more closely the dark bulk of a ship
loomed before him out of the blackness of the night。
No sound came from the vessel's deck。 Paulvitch drifted；
unseen； close to the Kincaid's side。 Only the momentary
scraping of his canoe's nose against the ship's planking broke
the silence of the night。
Trembling with nervous excitement； the Russian remained
motionless for several minutes； but there was no sound from the
great bulk above him to indicate that his coming had been noted。
Stealthily he worked his craft forward until the stays of the
bowsprit were directly above him。 He could just reach them。
To make his canoe fast there was the work of but a minute
or two； and then the man raised himself quietly aloft。
A moment later he dropped softly to the deck。 Thoughts of
the hideous pack which tenanted the ship induced cold
tremors along the spine of the cowardly prowler； but life
itself depended upon the success of his venture； and so he
was enabled to steel himself to the frightful chances which
lay before h