Then he came on again in his steam-engine fashion.
When we were about in the middle of the river the inevitable happened.
The camel fell, pitching us over its head into the stream.

Still clinging to the rifle I picked myself up and began half to swim half to wade towards the farther shore, catching hold of Hans with my free hand.
In a moment Jana was on to that camel.

He gored it with his tusks, he trampled it with his feet, he got it round the neck with his trunk, dragging nearly the whole bulk of it out of the water.

Then he set to work to pound it down into the mud and stones at the bottom of the river with such a persistent thoroughness, that he gave us time to reach the other bank and climb up a stout tree which grew there, a sloping, flat-topped kind of tree that was fortunately easy to ascend, at least for a man.

Here we sat gasping, perhaps about thirty feet above the ground level, and waited.
Presently Jana, having finished with the camel, followed us, and without any difficulty located us in that tree.