They deemed it probable that he had pushed on to the village, with the expectation of reaching it ahead of them and thus preparing the way for their reception.
This, however, was but a pretty theory which was as liable to be wrong as right.

At any rate, Ziffak must reach his home ahead of or simultaneously with the whites.

The latter continued using their paddles with steady vigor, until near noon, when they knew that considerably more than half the distance was passed.
They now began swaying their paddles less powerfully, for the feeling was strong upon them that they had approached as close as was prudent to the Murhapa village.
It was about this time, that they rounded a bend in the Xingu which gave them sight of the river for fully half a mile before another change in its course shut out all view.

Naturally, they scanned the stream in quest of enemies, who were now likely to be quite close.
The first survey showed them a canoe coming down stream.

It was near the middle and was approaching at a rapid rate.
Fred Ashman laid down his paddle and took up his binocular.
"It is Ziffak!" he exclaimed, passing the glass to Long.
"So it is and he is alone," was the reply of the astonished New Englander, who added an exclamation of surprise that he should be approaching from that direction.