Still hurrying me forward, Ama led the way through the grove and along its edge, until we eventually reached a narrow bush path, through which it was necessary to wend our way circumspectly, for it was now as black as a wolf's mouth, save when an occasional flicker of lightning from the now fast-receding storm momentarily lit up our surroundings.  We traversed this path for about half a mile, still maintaining perfect silence, and at length emerged, quite suddenly, upon a tiny strip of beach, beyond which hissed and gurgled the stream, already swollen by the rain.  A flash of lightning, that came most opportunely at this moment, revealed a small light canoe hauled up on the beach, with a couple of paddles, a sheaf of spears, bows and arrows, and a few other oddments in it.