"What are we going to do?" I said, with my heart beating fast.
"Afraid?" said Mr Brooke in a whisper.
"I don't know, sir--a little," I replied.
"We're not going to fight, Herrick. I shall go on and find the junks so
as to know them again--take their portraits in our minds--and then go
back for help. They can't escape out of the river, and once we know
them, our boats can soon follow and bring them to book."
The men pulled as if their hearts were in their work, and upon rounding
a bend, there, about a quarter of a mile away, lay two large vessels,
moored close up to the trees.
"We'll keep up the idea that we are shooting," said Mr Brooke. "No,
there is no need now. We have kept it up long enough. We must
reconnoitre and go back. They will think still that we are a
shooting-party, and not know that we are making for them."
"Of course not," I said thoughtfully. "How could they know we had
heard?"