"Look, the mats are up on the sunny side to prevent its scorching, and those palms are planted round to give it shade." "The Mother of the Flower lives there," whispered Brother John, pointing to the house.

"Who is she?
Who is she?
Suppose I should be mistaken after all.

God, let me not be mistaken, for it would be more than I can bear." "We had better try to find out," I remarked practically, though I am sure I sympathised with his suspense, and started down the slope at a run.
In five minutes or less we reached the foot of it, and, breathless and perspiring though we were, began to search amongst the reeds and bushes growing at the edge of the lake for the canoe of which we had been told by the Kalubi.

What if there were none?
How could we cross that wide stretch of deep water?
Presently Hans, who, following certain indications which caught his practised eye, had cast away to the left, held up his hand and whistled.

We ran to him.
"Here it is, Baas," he said, and pointed to something in a tiny bush-fringed inlet, that at first sight looked like a heap of dead reeds.