It was not a deep river, nowhere above their necks, and he pushed a way amid the trees and foliage that were packed upon the surface, Paul, as usual, following closely.

Now and then he dived under a big log, and came up on the other side, his head well hidden among upthrust boughs and among the weeds and grass that had grown in the soil formed by the silt of the river.

And Paul always carefully imitated him.
When they were about thirty yards into the mass Paul felt Henry's hand on his shoulder.

"Look back, Paul," was whispered in his ear, "but be sure not to move a single bough." Paul slowly and cautiously turned his head, and saw a sight that made him quiver.
Running swiftly, savage warriors were coming into view on either bank of the river--tall men, dark with paint, and, as he well knew, hot with the desire to take life.
"I thank God that this place is here!" breathed Paul.
"Yes, it was just made for us," said Henry, and he laughed ever so little.
"Come, Paul, we must get farther into it.

But be sure you don't shake any boughs." They waded on, only their heads above the current, and these always hidden by the interlacing trunks and branches.