"Let us leave the shooting till our return, and be contented with
charging our memories and feasting our eyes, for no dried skins, however
carefully they are preserved, will ever display the beauties of these
birds' nature as we watch them here in life. But we must have a skin or
two of these touracoos, for I want to show you lads the wonders of that
vivid crimson upon their underparts."
"Oh, I can see it plainly enough, uncle," said Rodd.
"Yes," said Uncle Paul, "but you don't notice what I mean. Instead of
that crimson being a beautiful dye fixed in the feathers, it is a soft
red pigment which can be washed out into water and--I saw something
moving up that creek," he added, in a low voice.
"Niggers perhaps," said the Spaniard, without turning his head.
"Likely to attack?" asked Rodd.
"Pish!" said the Spaniard contemptuously. "Harmless. Fishing perhaps.
We shall see more, I expect, farther on."
He did not trouble himself to turn his head, though the rest in the boat
kept a sharp look-out for what had attracted the doctor's attention up a
narrow inlet arched over by the overhanging trees, but it was not until
close upon evening that, as they pursued their winding way, this side
stream opened out more into a reach, and then for the first time a
movement some hundreds of yards behind brought forth a warning from Joe
Cross, who was seated with the tiller in his hand.
"Just cast your eye back, Mr Rodd, sir," he said; "yonder there where
the stream opened out it seems to me there's a canoe with a couple of
Indians in it. Nay, I mean blacks."
"Yes; look, captain," said Rodd eagerly; and the Spaniard slowly raised
himself up from where he was leaning back, took his cigarette from his
lips, shaded his eyes, and then after a cursory glance replaced the
cigarette and sank back.
"Niggers," he said. "Fishing."
Then they rowed on, leaving the two occupants of the canoe behind, till,
coming to what he considered to be a suitable place, the Spaniard
suggested that they should stay there for their meal upon an open sandy
little beach some fifty yards across, beyond which the forest rose dark
and thick again.
"We can land and light a fire," he said, "and make coffee and stretch
our legs."
"It would not be safe," said the doctor, "to rig up a tent here, would
it?"
"Oh yes," said the captain. "The only thing to trouble us here might be
a leopard or two; but a shot would scare them away."
This was good news, and heartily welcomed by the whole party, and in a
short time cooking was going on in the glowing embers of a fire, for
which there was abundant fuel close at hand, while a canvas tent,
strengthened by branches thrust deep in the sand, was cleverly contrived
by the sailors.
"I say, Morny, this is something like!" cried Rodd, as they sat together
watching the men finishing their meal, with their jovial contented faces
lit up by the glowing fire which flashed and cast shadows and sent up
golden clouds dotted with tiny spark-like embers, as it was made up from
time to time, according to the Spanish captain's suggestion that it
would keep away all wild beasts and clear off the snakes.
"Yes; my legs were beginning to feel cramped. I wonder how my father
is."
"Oh, he's happy enough," said Rodd, "and enjoying himself with the
thought that Skipper Chubb has had a good day's work getting on a new
outer skin over the hole."
"Ah, yes, I hope so," cried Morny eagerly, his friend's suggestion
seeming to brighten him up.
"And I say," cried Rodd, "shan't we sleep to-night! How I shall
stretch! I don't think I should much mind a great spotted cat coming
and sniffing round the tent. Of course it would be very horrid to be
clawed or bitten, but there's something natural about that. The idea of
being grabbed by one of those great slimy reptiles and dragged under
water, and before you have had time to squeak--"
"Rodd, don't, please!" cried Morny, with a shudder. "It makes my flesh
creep."
"Yes; I was going to say it's time you lads changed your conversation,"
said the doctor quietly, "for none of the forest creatures are likely to
disturb us to-night with a watch-fire kept up like this."
"But I say, uncle," said Rodd mischievously, later on--when the watch
had been set, with a big pile of dead firewood laid ready to replenish
the fire, and Uncle Paul was about to follow the example of the Spanish
captain and select his patch of dry sand covered with canvas, beneath
the extemporised tent.
"Well, what, my boy?" said the doctor drowsily. "Don't talk now. I am
sure every one wants to go to sleep."
"Yes, uncle; I am sure I do," said the boy, who was already fitting the
projecting bones of his back into the yielding sand; "but do you think
it's likely--"
Rodd stopped to give Morny, who was beside him, a nudge with his elbow.
"Do I think what's likely, Pickle?" replied the doctor.
"That those two black fellows we saw in the canoe will sneak ashore to
come and do anything to us with their spears?"
"Rodney!" cried the doctor indignantly.
"But they are sure to have spears, uncle, or else they couldn't be
sticking the fish."
"Go to sleep, sir!" said the doctor angrily.
Rodd went at once, and did not stir again, till an extra loud crackling
of burning wood made him start up in wonder and alarm.
But it was only the morning watch, in the persons of Joe Cross and the
appointed cook, making up the fire afresh in view of what Joe called
boiling the billy and to give the cook some good broiling embers, for it
was the break of day once more.