Indeed it was not until we were within a hundred yards of the harbour
that a woman possessed of the virtue, or vice, of early rising, who
had come from a hut to work in her garden, saw us and raised an awful,
piercing scream.
"The gods!" she screamed. "The gods are leaving the land and taking
the white men with them."
Instantly there arose a hubbub in the houses. Heads were thrust out of
the doors and people ran into the gardens, every one of whom began to
yell till one might have thought that a massacre was in progress. But
as yet no one came near us, for they were afraid.
"Push on," I cried, "or all is lost."
They answered nobly. Hans struggled forward on all fours, for he was
nearly done and his hideous garment was choking him, while Stephen and
Brother John, exhausted though they were with the weight of the great
plant, actually broke into a feeble trot. We came to the harbour and
there, tied to the wharf, was the same canoe in which we had crossed
to Pongo-land. We sprang into it and cut the fastenings with my knife,
having no time to untie them, and pushed off from the wharf.
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