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“And she’ll do it,” said Harman.

They had some food and smoked and drowsed in the warm, dark hot-house atmosphere of the woods, now silent as death with noon.

Then somewhere about two o’clock the branches parted and the charming, sprite-like face of the girl looked in upon their slumbers.

She had brought news. The big canoe was not taking water that day nor fruit. It might stay many days, also the big man had been bidden to a banquet by the village, and the feast was to take place on the edge of dark. They were preparing the palm toddy now and killing chickens and two pigs. Listen! She held up a finger and they could hear the far-off clucking of chickens being chased only to be choked. The pigs, clubbed senseless, had uttered no complaint.

Then the branches swayed, and she was gone.

“This is good,” said Davis. “That chap is sure to get drunk on the palm toddy, and so we’ll be saved the bother of knocking him out.”

“Seems like Providence, don’t it?” said Mr. Harman. “If you tell me there ain’t such a thing, I tell you that there is—flat. Look at us, brought here and landed as careful as baskets of eggs, and look at Clayton sent after us to be skinned, ain’t that Providence?”