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We called her name aloud every few minutes as we motored up the river, but,

though we returned all the way to our former camping place, we did not find her.

I then decided to retrace our journey, letting Taylor handle the launch, while

Delcarte and I, upon opposite sides of the river, searched for some sign of the

spot where Victory had landed.

We found nothing until we had reached a point a few miles above the spot where I

had first seen the launch drifting down toward us, and there I discovered the

remnants of a recent camp fire.

That Victory carried flint and steel I was aware, and that it was she who built the

fire I was positive. But which way had she gone since she stopped here?

Would she go on down the river, that she might thus bring herself nearer her own

Grabritin, or would she have sought to search for us upstream, where she had

seen us last?

I had hailed Taylor, and sent him across the river to take in Delcarte, that the two

might join me and discuss my discovery and our future plans.

While waiting for them, I stood looking out over the river, my back toward the

woods that stretched away to the east behind me. Delcarte was just stepping into

the launch upon the opposite side of the stream, when, without the least

warning, I was violently seized by both arms and about the waist--three or four

men were upon me at once; my rifle was snatched from my hands and my

revolver from my belt.

I struggled for an instant, but finding my efforts of no avail, I ceased them, and

turned my head to have a look at my assailants. At the same time several others

of them walked around in front of me, and, to my astonishment, I found myself

looking upon uniformed soldiery, armed with rifles, revolvers, and sabers, but

with faces as black as coal.

The Lost Continent