It was probably one o’clock when Jack Everson, who had been sleeping for nearly an hour, was awakened by a gentle shaking of his shoulder.  Opening his eyes and looking up he saw Wharton bending over him.

“All right,” remarked the American; “I’m ready for my turn,” and he rose, yawning, to his feet.

“I think we had better rest until morning.”

“Why?”

“The current has become so rapid that it is hard to make progress; this stream can’t be of much further use to us.”

It needed but a glance around in the gloom to see that it was as his friend had declared.  The boat was so close to the left-hand shore that it was held motionless by Anderson at the bow, who gripped an overhanging branch, with one hand.  The water rippled around the front of the craft, and when Jack dipped the end of one of the poles into the current it swept downward at a rate that astonished him.

“I esteem your advice good,” he said, “but it will not do to leave the boat in sight.”

With the help of the limbs and the use of the poles it was easy to force the craft under the bank, where it was screened from observation.  Then it was secured in place against drifting and all work for the time was over.

Wharton and Jack Everson were the only persons awake.  The women had been sleeping for several hours, while Anderson and Turner had long since joined the venerable doctor in the realms of unconsciousness.  The two young men sat down where they could speak in low tones without being overheard.

“It won’t do for all of us to sleep at the same time,” remarked Jack; “the scoundrels may be creeping up stream after us.”

“That is hardly possible; I am sure that for the present we are as safe as if in the heart of London.”

“I cannot believe as you do; since I have just enjoyed an hour’s sleep I will act as sentinel until daybreak.  I can easily keep awake for the few hours that remain.”

“As you think best, though I am sure it is an unnecessary precaution.”

“We must not forget that there are perils from the jungle as well as from the river.  There is no saying what wild beast may pay us a visit.”

Inasmuch as Jack could not be dissuaded from his purpose, and Wharton began to suspect his friend was half right, the question was decided.  Wharton stretched out on the deck, falling asleep almost immediately, and Jack thus found himself the only one with his senses at command and with the safety of the others dependent upon him.

He took his place near the cabin, where the women were slumbering, with his breechloader in hand.  He was never more wide awake and was sure he would remain so for hours to come.  Wharton had offered to divide the duty with him in acting as sentinel, but our hero preferred to keep the matter in his own hands.  He was sure his friend did not realize the full peril of their situation.