Dane was mistaken when he said he could not sleep, for hardly had Amadu returned to report his failure to find any trace of the fugitive than he sank into deep slumber. This was not strange. He had lived for some time under a constant strain, sleeping very little; and now that part at least of his task was accomplished nature had her way. It was true that Rideau had escaped him, but Dane believed that if he was alive they might still overtake him. He decided that Rideau's life would no longer be worth a day's purchase in the Leopards' country, and he would head at once for the coast.

Events proved him right, for when he opened his eyes the next morning Amadu stood beside his couch to say that Rideau had left a trail it was easy to follow across the creek, and that the boys were ready to march. They started forthwith, and that was the beginning of a memorable chase. Every indispensable pound of weight, including the weapons, was ruthlessly flung away once they entered a settled country. The time for food and sleep was cut down, and the camp boys, seeing that the road led south toward the sea, vied with each other in their efforts to shorten the journey. The forest rolled behind them, as did miles of dusty grass; but the chase never slackened, and, for this region was populous, they had news of the fugitive. One morning Dane reached a village he had passed the previous night. At another they missed him by a few hours, and found two lame men he had hired and left behind.

Dane's own men had flung themselves down panting in the shade, but most of them rose cheerfully in answer to his summons, while Monday used forcible arguments to encourage the rest, and in ten minutes all were on their way again. They lost the path in a morass, and at the next village they found that Rideau had increased his lead; but Dane knew that they were near the coast, and that he held his enemy between him and the sea. So the chase went on, until they reached a native market on the banks of a broad stream. A white man, so its ruler stated, had seized a canoe there a few hours earlier.

"Say dam low t'ief man done go chop one canoe and lib for get out like the debbil down them river," explained a negro who seemed proud of his linguistic abilities.

"Tell your headman I'll pay twice its value for the best craft he has," said Dane; and then consulted with his subordinates, for it was evident that they must divide forces here. It was not more than three days' journey to the coast, the headman said; and taking Amadu, Bad Dollar, and six picked Krooboys with him in the big canoe, he left Monday to follow with the rest to Little Mahu. Dane felt sorely tempted to leave the gold with the headman, under guard, but thought better of it.

The Kroos were skilled with the paddle, the canoe was long and fast, and Dane's spirits rose as he felt the thin shell surge forward at every sturdy stroke. All that day the dusky bodies, stripped to the costume of Eden, swayed athwart his vision over the flashing blades, as he stared forward with aching eyes down the long vista of dazzling water that unrolled itself before him. Palms, cottonwoods, creeper festoons, mud banks, fled astern. The temperature grew suffocating under the glare of afternoon, but still the thudding paddles rose and fell, while froth licked the bows and the paddling song rose in spasmodic gasps. At sunset they met a big trade canoe toiling upstream; and, excited by promises of rich reward, the crew roused themselves to fresh effort when its helmsman told them that another craft with three men in it, one of whom was dressed as a white man, had passed him an hour earlier.

A full moon rose over the forest presently, and they pushed on across stretches of glistening silver and breadths of inky gloom. The Kroos had done gallantly, but they were only beings of flesh and blood, and their strength was ebbing fast. One who had dropped his paddle lay idle in the bows, another appeared to be choking, and fouled his comrade's blade, while the paddles of the rest dipped at steadily increasing intervals; so seeing that neither bribes nor threats could stir them, Dane desisted, almost too hoarse to make his voice audible. His hands were raw and bleeding where the haft of his paddle had eaten into them. The stream, however, ran with them, and they still made headway, while he strained his heavy eyes, expecting each moment to see a canoe ahead.

Dane, however, even yet had not gaged his enemy's ingenuity.

They ran the craft alongside the landing of a native village in another hour or two, crawled out of her very stiffly, and were told by the headman that two negroes had come ashore from a passing craft to purchase food a little earlier, while a white man lay still in her bottom. Dane concluded from this that the fugitive had slightly increased his lead, and he was wondering whether he could by main force get his boys on board again, or could engage a fresh crew, when a negro who spoke English plucked his sleeve.

"I go look them white men in canoe soffly, soffly. What you lib for dash me if I tell you something, suh?"

Dane had nothing left to offer as a present, and seizing the man by the shoulder, shook him violently.

"Tell me at once, and you shall have whatever you want if you will go to Mahu for it," he said.

The headman protested, but the negro only grinned when Dane slackened his grip.

"I not fool man, sah. The Lord he give me sense too much. You done dash me them jackus you have on now."

Dane's duck jacket was badly rent, but it was garnished with ornamental metal buttons such as the black man loves. Tearing it off, he flung it at the speaker. The heathen, finding himself successful, desired the white man's trousers too; but this time Dane, disregarding the headman, shook him savagely.

"I go look them white man, sah. He was a black man in white man's clofes."

Dane stared at the man stupidly; and then clustering huts, red fires, and wondering negroes, grew hazy before him, as choking with fury he saw what had happened. Rideau had changed clothes with one of his followers, and sending him on for the pursuers to follow, had landed and vanished into the forest. It was of the first importance to decide where he would make for. Mastering himself with an effort, Dane managed to obtain some useful information from the headman. Mahu, being partially sheltered, was the only port in that vicinity where any one would be likely to find surf-boats, or canoes suitable for a coast trip, he said; for the bar of the river they had descended was generally impassable. It seemed hardly probable that Rideau would turn north again without equipment or escort; and deciding that he would endeavor to escape from the colony before the authorities heard his pursuer's story, Dane determined to push on at once for Redmond's factory. His men, however, were utterly worn out, and finally declined to drag themselves a yard farther. Bad Dollar lay down, and was either unwilling or unable to get up again; only Amadu remained unbeaten. Finally the headman was prevailed upon to provide carriers, and Dane and Amadu were borne out of the village in lurching hammocks.

At first the motion of a hammock is soothing, but though very weary Dane could not sleep. The boys marched well; but consumed with impatience, he lay wide awake peering into the darkness, and striving to encourage them to more determined effort. They ceased the carrying song from sheer lack of breath, and the white man could hear them panting beneath him. The sun rose, but there was no halt for rest; and the men were stumbling when one shouted excitedly, and not far ahead low whitewashed buildings rose dazzlingly against the sea.

When the carriers halted in front of them, two traders whom Dane recognized from Maxwell's description met him at the compound gate, and stared wonderingly when, watching them with bloodshot eyes, the newcomer told his name.

"Where are the rest of you, and Maxwell?" asked Redmond. "You can't have lost the whole of them; though there's no need to tell me something has gone wrong. Few men come home from the back country looking as though they had enjoyed the experience, but you're almost as bad as the last one."

"I have not enjoyed mine," Dane answered huskily; for he remembered with what hopes and in whose company he had first marched from the sea, and the contrast was bitter. "Maxwell has made his last journey."

"Dead?"

Dane nodded; and Gilby laid a hand on his shoulder with a gesture of sympathy which touched him.

"He was a wonderful man—but all the rest of them are not dead, too?"

"We lost too many. The rest are following. I will try to tell you all in good time. Has Rideau arrived here lately?"

Gilby smiled dryly.

"He has; and the way he did it coupled with your own appearance would stir up any man's curiosity. Rideau came in dressed like a nigger this morning, in the hottest hurry, saying he'd important business down the coast, and offered me my own price for the loan of our big surf-boat to go there in."

"You didn't let him have it!" Dane gasped.

"We don't often let business pass us; but I told him to go to perdition, if he could find his way swimming." Gilby chuckled. "I also told him several things that needn't be repeated."

"Gilby never had any sense to spare," interjected his comrade. "He was so proud of the speech he made that instead of warning the niggers not to help him, he did nothing except tell me how he said it; and Rideau got some fishermen to take him east in their canoe. They'll be well away to leeward now. What did the brute do?"

"Instigated my partner's murder, and twice attempted my own life," Dane answered in breathless haste. "But I'm in no mood to waste time. Will you hire me that surf-boat?"

"If you want her to follow Rideau you shall have the boat for nothing, and we'll both come along," said Redmond. "Gilby, get down to the beach and see to the gear and crew. Meantime, you are coming straight into the factory to get some food. Where is Rideau making for? That I don't know, but he'll probably try to get on board the Minella if he's afraid of you. She's billed on a stopping trip for Lagos, but she'll edge close round Twin Point Bluff, and he'll no doubt try to board her there. There's a nice southwester blowing now, and under the big lugsail we ought to overhaul the canoe before he does so. She can't have got far until the breeze sprang up."

Dane had eaten little of late, but the food forced upon him almost choked him now; and leaving most of it untasted, he drank feverishly; then finding himself almost too exhausted to pace the veranda, he flung himself impatiently into a chair.

"Will that boat never be ready?" he asked.

"I'm hurrying her," replied Gilby, who also seemed impatient. "One boy's sewing a new cloth in the sail, and as she's too big to paddle far, we can't start until it's finished. She wants some pitch run into her bilge seams, too, and won't be ready for an hour or longer. Still, I'm hoping to overhaul Rideau early to-morrow—and he won't enjoy the meeting, by the look of you."

After some discussion Redmond reluctantly agreed to remain behind in charge of the gold Dane brought down; and it was nearly dark when, without shipping overmuch water, the surf-boat cleared the beach, and with tall lugsail straining, lurched away eastward over the moonlit swell. It was then that, lying in the stern to rest and gather strength for what might yet be required of him, Dane told Gilby his detailed story. He could afterward recall the intent face fixed upon him, the crash of breakers throbbing through the haze that hid the shore, and the listing craft's swift rise and fall. At the time, however, he was conscious of nothing except that they were speeding east, and that the trader assured him the slender native canoe dare carry very little sail in such a strength of breeze. Gilby held the tiller, a big Krooboy sat on the weather gunwale slacking off the lugsail sheet each time the boat dipped her side to a stronger puff of breeze, and Amadu lay on the weather floorings, deadly sick and groaning horribly, to the amusement of the amphibious heathen.

"It will be remembered that I have suffered these torments for my master's sake," he said in a mixture of several tongues. "Still, once we land I will beat the life out of some of these dogs."

The craft traveled fast, for the off-shore breeze blew fresh abeam; and though at times it lashed the waters into foam, the helmsman daringly held on to the whole lugsail; and so at last, when the moon hung low in the west, and pearly streaks brightened over her starboard bow, a tall bluff loomed blackly through the haze ahead.

"Twin Point," said Gilby, shaking the spray from his jacket. "I have kept her well inshore for a purpose, but now we'll ease the sheet off. We should see the canoe once we round the head. The Minella can't be far off by this time, either."

Dane rose stiffly, but he could see little except the belts of thinning haze which dimmed the waters ahead. He could hear the thunder of breakers on the invisible foot of the cliff. The light was growing each moment, the breeze dying fast, and presently the damp lugsail slatted against the mast.

"Get out your paddles!" ordered Gilby.

The lugsail rustled down, the mast was lowered. Muscular black men perched themselves on the gunwales, and the paddles beat the water, while, when they had brought the head abeam, the mist rolled back, and the red track of the sunrise streaked the heaving sea. A low, black blur and a smear of smoke crawled athwart it; while nearer the shore, and seen only when the surf-boat climbed the long undulations, a dusky strip, with moving figures silhouetted against the radiant sea, lurched toward the approaching steamer.

"There he is!" Dane shouted. "Gilby, promise those boys anything if we overtake him! Pull up your tiller and swing her farther off-shore! If we pass out of hailing distance I shall miss the steamer."

"You are right; and that's the Minella," was the answer. "Still, if you wish to meet Mr. Rideau you had better let me arrange things for you. We can see him out there, but he won't see us under the high bluff as yet, and his boys don't seem to be killing themselves yonder. He'll expect us coming up from the southwest, and that is why I edged in along the shore. Besides, there's a nasty piece of stone lying off the False Point which, as the stream sets strong over it, it's wiser to keep well clear of."

Straining his eyes, Dane could see the surf on the Twin promontory some distance away; and while he watched it a long undulation outshore of it was rent asunder and a column of foam rushed aloft. It dissipated into filmy spray, and a dull roar reached the listeners faintly. The steep swell of the southern ocean breaks heavily along the coast.

"That's Sunk Reed," said Gilby. "A steam-boat went ashore there three years ago and smashed most of her bottom out in less than five minutes. Since then careful skippers coming round False Point haul out from shore. By the way the Minella's steering, it's not certain that either Rideau or ourselves will catch her. Paddle, you black devils, paddle!"

Dane fancied the boys were doing their utmost, but the progress they made appeared distressfully slow. The steamer was rising higher all the time, but thin haze still clung about the rocks, and the surf-boat probably remained unseen against the towering background. The canoe also was growing larger, and Dane could plainly see the sunken reef hurling clouds of spray aloft ahead of her, for the flood-tide joining the usual eastward current was setting strong across it. Presently a figure waving a white cotton cloth rose upright in the craft and the paddles whirled faster, but there was no answering hoot from the steamer's whistle.

"The Minella's deep, and her skipper wouldn't stop long for a Colonial Governor when he has a full cargo on board," explained Gilby. "It will be a tight fit to catch her; but we could head off Rideau, who doesn't see us yet. I don't think his boys, being strangers, know how far that reef runs out. Only the steeper seas break on the outer end of it."

"Head him off. Never mind the steamer," Dane said hoarsely.

The boys made further efforts. Foam lapped about the bows, the splash of paddles swelled into a resonant thudding, and Gilby pulled hard upon his helm.

"They see us at last!"

Dane stood upright, cheering on the paddlers, who broke into a gasping song, and both craft went flying across the swell; but as they edged outshore it became evident that Rideau must pass the reef closely to reach the steamer. Rolling heavily, she still came on, perhaps a mile away, with unslackened speed. The spouting on the reef drew nearer, and Dane's voice seemed to break up in his throat, for unless Rideau could clear it during the next few minutes the pursuers felt sure of him. Dane had no paddle, and there being nothing he could do, he stared forward, moistening his parched lips with his tongue. Quickening a trifle, the paddles flashed and fell, while the lurching hull leaped forward at every impetus; but it seemed to the anxious man that she was merely crawling over the flaming sea.

"We have him!" gasped Gilby, with exultation in his tone. "If he holds clear of the reef we have him safe! Hallo! Where is he going now? It's a very odd chance he shoots through between the seas."

Dane already had noticed that the outer end of the reef was marked only by a swirl of water when the smaller seas passed. As Gilby spoke, the canoe was turned straight toward it.

"What that man can do we can. Follow him!" Dane cried; but Gilby signaled to his crew, and they slackened their paddling. They were far from timid, but they had not lost their reason.

Twice the sea was rent apart ahead, and sheets of foam rushed up, while the sound of its impact on the reef rang in a deafening crash. Then the pursuit ended suddenly.

"Are they mad, or turning on him?" gasped Gilby.

A man flung in his paddle on board the craft ahead. The flash of a pistol followed, but no sound was audible through the thunder of the reef. Then a black form rose upright with paddle swung high, and a long sea rose between the pursuers and the canoe. When it passed, the frail craft floated bottom uppermost, and the reef hurled up a smother of foam close ahead. Already several black heads were spread out across the swell as the native crew swam for dear life to evade the danger.

Gilby's boys stopped paddling altogether.

"Go on! Rideau's clinging to the canoe!" shouted Dane.

Gilby looked at the whirling spray, and then at his comrade.

"It won't be in this world he'll answer for his offenses. She's drifting straight across the reef, and nothing at that distance could cheat it."

Dane struck the nearest negro.

"Go on! Why don't you paddle? Gilby, where that man goes I follow!"

The trader gripped him savagely by the arm."He has escaped you. Keep still or I'll fell you with the tiller. Are you mad? There, look yonder. That is the last of him."

Staring out of eyes that but imperfectly recorded their impressions, Dane saw the black hull of the canoe swing aloft on the crest of a sea which rolled majestically toward the hidden barrier. The wall of water broke up suddenly with a deafening roar, and a tremendous rush of foam hurled itself aloft. When it fell, there was no sign of the canoe.

"He has gone," said Gilby, in a curiously strained voice. "The niggers will get ashore all right. You couldn't drown a beach man. Rideau will be smashed out of recognition. Still, we'll paddle round to leeward and make certain. Appolyon, you try to signal them 'teamer."

When they slid round the other side of the barrier a shattered canoe rocked bottom-uppermost on the confused welter, but there was no sign of a human head; and when the blast of a whistle reached the searchers, the surf-boat's bow was toward the steamer.

"You had better go on with her and make an affidavit before the Commandant, if they'll land you," advised Gilby. "I'll send in a written statement and swear to it if they send a Commissioner. Meantime, we'll keep your boys at the factory; and, in case we might want their testimony, I'll take off Rideau's niggers too. Of course, we had no intention of drowning him, but the way he shot that poor black paddle-boy lessens one's regrets. Rideau was dangerous to his friends to the last."

Dane was ready to act upon any suggestion. Worn out, mentally and physically alike, he could not think connectedly; and when, climbing the lowered ladder, he was surrounded by a wondering group on the steamer's deck, he turned from them savagely.

"We are all curious," said the skipper. "What took place aboard the canoe—mutiny, murder, or an outbreak of insanity?"

"I can't tell you anything now; but if you will come ashore with me at the next French station, where I must make a declaration, you shall hear how the canoe was wrecked when I am able to tell it."

"That will do," acquiesced the skipper. "You certainly don't look fit for unnecessary talking now. Better turn in, and I'll send our doctor along to you."

Dane was glad to do so; but he had hardly flung himself down in his room before the doctor came in.

"I have been living under a constant strain during the last few months, and have had very little sleep for weeks," he said. "Give me something that will keep me from waking or thinking for twelve hours, if you have it."

The surgeon touched his wrist and laid a hand on his forehead.

"So one would suppose," he replied; "but if the scene we just witnessed was the climax of your adventures, I hardly think you will need a sleeping draught. Nature is addicted to providing her own remedy. If you'll take the dose I'll send you, you will probably wake up considerably better. It will not contain narcotics."

He went out, and Dane soon sank into deep, refreshing sleep.