“Ready it is!” said Dick and Joe, with one voice.
“Good!”
In a few moments the balloon was advancing along the bed of the river, and scarcely one hundred feet above the ground.
The Nile measured but fifty fathoms in width at this point, and the natives were in great excitement, rushing to and fro, tumultuously, in the villages that lined the banks of the stream.
At the second degree it forms a perpendicular cascade of ten feet in height, and consequently impassable by boats.
“Here, then, is the cascade mentioned by Debono!” exclaimed the doctor.
The basin of the river spread out, dotted with numerous islands, which Dr. Ferguson devoured with his eyes.
He seemed to be seeking for a point of reference which he had not yet found.
By this time, some blacks, having ventured in a boat just under the balloon, Kennedy saluted them with a shot from his rifle, that made them regain the bank at their utmost speed.
“A good journey to you,” bawled Joe, “and if I were in your place, I wouldn’t try coming back again. I should be mightily afraid of a monster that can hurl thunderbolts when he pleases.”
But, all at once, the doctor snatched up his spy-glass, and directed it toward an island reposing in the middle of the river.
“Four trees!” he exclaimed; “look, down there!”
Sure enough, there were four trees standing alone at one end of it.
“It is Bengal Island!
It is the very same,” repeated the doctor, exultingly.
“And what of that?” asked Dick.
“It is there that we shall alight, if God permits.”
“But, it seems to be inhabited, doctor.”
“Joe is right; and, unless I’m mistaken, there is a group of about a score of natives on it now.”
“We’ll make them scatter; there’ll be no great trouble in that,” responded Ferguson.
“So be it,” chimed in the hunter.
The sun was at the zenith as the balloon approached the island.
The blacks, who were members of the Makado tribe, were howling lustily, and one of them waved his bark hat in the air.
Kennedy took aim at him, fired, and his hat flew about him in pieces.
Thereupon there was a general scamper.
The natives plunged headlong into the river, and swam to the opposite bank.
Immediately, there came a shower of balls from both banks, along with a perfect cloud of arrows, but without doing the balloon any damage, where it rested with its anchor snugly secured in the fissure of a rock.
Joe lost no time in sliding to the ground.
“The ladder!” cried the doctor. “Follow me, Kennedy.”
“What do you wish, sir?”
“Let us alight. I want a witness.”
“Here I am!”
“Mind your post, Joe, and keep a good lookout.”
“Never fear, doctor; I’ll answer for all that.”
“Come, Dick,” said the doctor, as he touched the ground.
So saying, he drew his companion along toward a group of rocks that rose upon one point of the island; there, after searching for some time, he began to rummage among the brambles, and, in so doing, scratched his hands until they bled.
Suddenly he grasped Kennedy’s arm, exclaiming:
“Look! look!”
“Letters!”
Yes; there, indeed, could be descried, with perfect precision of outline, some letters carved on the rock. It was quite easy to make them out: “A. D.”
“A.D.!” repeated Dr. Ferguson. “Andrea Debono—the very signature of the traveller who farthest ascended the current of the Nile.”
“No doubt of that, friend Samuel,” assented Kennedy.
“Are you now convinced?”
“It is the Nile!
We cannot entertain a doubt on that score now,” was the reply.
The doctor, for the last time, examined those precious initials, the exact form and size of which he carefully noted.
“And now,” said he—“now for the balloon!”
“Quickly, then, for I see some of the natives getting ready to recross the river.”
“That matters little to us now.
Let the wind but send us northward for a few hours, and we shall reach Gondokoro, and press the hands of some of our countrymen.”