CHAPTER XIV.
A STRANGE ENCOUNTER.
Fred Ashman was standing near the edge of the Xingu, as will be remembered, when his attention was diverted for the moment by a puma, which came out of the wood, drank from the stream, and then, after a brief pause, returned to his shelter.
All this while, the dull roar of the rapids was in the explorer's ears, and he was eager to withdraw his attention from the beast and direct it upon the opposite shore, where he was convinced something unusual was going on.
The minute the beast disappeared, he looked across at the point that had so interested him.
The question which he had asked himself some time before, was answered by the sight of a small canoe that was stealing down the river, instead of heading directly across to where he was standing.

In this boat was a single individual, using a paddle with the deftness of an American Indian.
Here was something that needed attention, and, with the aid of the brilliant moonlight.

Ashman watched the craft and its occupant as closely as if his own fate were wrapped up in its movements--a supposition which it was not improbable was fact itself.
The savage moved slowly, as if sensible of the call for the utmost care, went only a few rods down stream, when he turned out in the water and aimed for the shore where the watcher was standing.

He had gone some distance below, and it was to be supposed that the force of the current would carry him still farther, so that if he made a landing it was likely to be far below.
But he who held the paddle was a master of that species of navigation, and Ashman was surprised to observe that he was aiming at the very spot where he was standing carefully concealed in the shadow.

If nothing interfered, they were sure of making a closer acquaintance.
The boat was about the middle of the river, when the white man was struck by the immense size of the occupant.