fruits, and to leave us an earthen jug full of brackish water.
"This is a good place to catch a fever," I had said to Dawson, the day before, and since that time he had declared that the fever was slowly but surely getting into his system.
I had tried to talk to the old woman and to several of the natives that had dropped in upon us out of curiosity, but nobody understood me and none were able or willing to give us aid.
The night to follow brought on a heavy storm, almost as severe as that which had caused us to abandon our ship. About half the men of Bumwoga were away and the remainder, with the women and children, huddled in the huts to escape the fury of the elements. The rain came down "by the bucketful," and soon the single street of the village was six inches deep with water, which flowed around the spot where Tom Dawson and I were held close prisoners.
"If this keeps on, we'll be drowned," I remarked dismally. "One thing is certain, if we want to catch any sleep to-night we'll have to do it standing up."
"Who could sleep with such a racket!" growled Dawson. "Why, just listen to that!"
"That" was a fearful crack of thunder, which rolled and roared among the hills and mountains to the east and north of the village. The thun-
