A STROKE OF FORTUNE. 339 



"How come in dug-out when ain't any dug-out come in eh?" 



" What's become of it ? " 



" River-horse chaw him up." 



" Ah," laughed Mr. Godkin, " that makes anotb T matter of it ; your explanation 

 is accepted ; how are the boys getting along ? " 



" Get 'long like thunder," was the rather startling reply of the Bushman, who 

 did not enjoy the bath he was compelled to take because of the attack of the behe- 

 moth. 



Meanwhile the men kept up communication with the young gentlemen on the 

 raft, who announced about this time that their assailant was killed and Diedrick 

 was hard at work pushing the support toward them. 



A few minutes later the awkward craft and the three figures loomed to view 

 through the darkness, and soon all parties were shaking hands and congratulating 

 each other on the fortunate issue of the hunt. 



But, as you will recall, the real business that had brought them thither remained 

 unaccomplished. They had slain the mother hippopotamus, but had not captured 

 her young, nor could any one tell where it was to be found. 



The dug-out would have been a most convenient help in searching for it, but 

 the boat had been destroyed, and all that remained was the raft. When our friends 

 came to step upon this it would not sustain them. 



" Me swim," said Pongo, springing into the water and striking out for the other 

 shore. Inasmuch as he had already had a souse, there was no hardship in this act 

 Diedrick would have imitated him had there been necessity for doing so, but the 

 structure was found just buoyant enough to bear the three men and two boys, while 

 the Hottentot was serviceable in using the pole. 



The progress of the raft could not equal that of the Bushman, who swam with a 

 powerful, easy stroke that would have delighted a professional. The current seemed 

 to cause him no trouble, while the structure drifted considerably down stream before 

 it made the other bank. 



At the very moment that it entered the tall grass a great splashing was heard 

 some way above, and the well-known voice of Pongo rang out : 



" Come help me got him fight hard ! " 



Every one on the raft leaped off and dashed through the water and vegetation to 

 the spot where the native was struggling with something. 



Pongo had no thought of anything of the kind, but was swimming leisurely, and 

 finding he could reach bottom with his feet, stopped floating and began walking 

 out on land. 



He had reached a point where the water came only to his knees, when he was 

 startled by some queer-looking creature rushing from the grass and impetuously 

 attacking him. 



It was on him before he could retreat, but, fortunately, its capacity for inflicting 

 injury was less than its will, and the nose which it banged against the legs of the 

 Bushman did no harm, though it came nigh knocking him over. 



