Produced by Nick Hodson of London, England




Through Forest and Stream, or, The Quest of the Quetzal, by George
Manville Fenn.

________________________________________________________________________

The book is apparently quite genuinely by George Manville Fenn, judging
by its style and content.  Yet it does not appear on any list of his
books, and copies of it seem to be very rare.  For that reason we have
not been able to put a verified publication date on the book.  It does
not even appear in the British Library's catalogue, indicating that it
was possibly not registered for copyright.  It is fairly short, taking
but three hours to read aloud.  It was published in the same cover as
"The New Forest Spy," which is approximately of the same length, so that
they can both be regarded as longish short stories.

The book can be regarded as a sequel to "Nat the Naturalist", except
that the action takes place somewhere in the jungles of South America.
The Quetzal is a beautiful bird with a long tail, and beautifully
coloured.  The object of the expedition is to shoot, skin, and mount
specimens.  There is a passing reference to Ebo, who appears in "Nat the
Naturalist" between chapters 25 to 43, so that gives us some kind of a
date, for that book was first published in 1883.  Let us say 1884 or
1885.  Possibly Fenn was asked by members of his young readership for
more about Nat, and this is the result.

The co-hero is Pete, whom we first meet on board ship being maltreated
by the captain.  When Nat and his uncle are dropped off with their own
small boat, and are camping ashore for their first night, they discharge
their fire-arms at sounds they take to be enemy locals.  The noises turn
out to be Pete and Cross, the ship's carpenter, who had jumped ship.
Pete had been a dirty-looking frightened boy on the ship, but with a
quick wash of the face he turns out to be quite a useful lad, and plays
a full part in the expedition.

There is the usual Fenn style of apparently mortal perils, overcome by
cunning or luck, and it is quite a good read or listen.

________________________________________________________________________

THROUGH FOREST AND STREAM; OR, THE QUEST OF THE QUETZAL, BY GEORGE
MANVILLE FENN.



CHAPTER ONE.

WHY WE WERE THERE.

The captain of the steamer stopped by where I was watching the flying
fish fizz out of the blue-ink-like water, skim along for some distance,
and drop in again, often, I believe, to be snapped up by some bigger
fish; and he gave me a poke in the shoulder with one finger, so hard,
that it hurt.

"Yes?"  I said, for he stood looking hard in my face, while I looked
back harder in his, for it seemed such a peculiar way of addressing one,
and his manner was more curious still.

He was naturally a smooth-faced man with a very browny-yellow skin, and
he kept on passing the finger with which he had poked me over first one
cheek and then over the other, just as if he were shaving himself
without soap.

Then his speech seemed more peculiar than his manner, for he repeated my
one word, only instead of pronouncing it _yes_, he turned it into
_yuss_.

He looked so comic and puzzled that I smiled, and the smile became a
laugh.

I was sorry directly after, because it seemed rude to one who had been
very civil to me ever since we left Kingston Harbour.

"'Tain't nothing to laugh at, young feller," he said, frowning.  "I've
been talking to him yonder, and I can't make nothing of him.  He's a
_re-lay-tive_ of yours, isn't he?"

"Yes; my uncle," I replied.

"Well, I'm afraid he don't know what he's cut out for himself, and I
think I ought to tell you, so as you may talk to him and bring him to
his senses."

"There's no need," I said, quickly.

"Oh, yes, there is, my lad.  He don't know what he's got before him, and
it's right that you should.  He's going shooting, isn't he?"

"Yes."

"Nattralist?"

"Yes."

"Well, he don't know what the parts are like where he's going.  Do you
know what fevers is?"

"Oh, yes," I replied; "I've heard of them often."

"Well, the coast yonder's where they're made, my lad.  Natur's got a big
workshop all along there, and she makes yaller ones, and black ones;
scarlet, too, I dessay, though I never see none there that colour."

"Uncle's a doctor," I said, "and he'll know all about that."

"But he's going, he tells me, to shoot birds in the forests and up the
rivers, and means to skin 'em, and he won't do it."

"Why not?"  I said.

"Why not?  Because if the fevers don't stop you both, the Injuns will;
and if they don't, you'll get your boat capsized in the rivers or along
the coast, or you'll get lost in the woods and never be heerd of again."

"Uncle's an old, experienced traveller," I said, "and has been a great
deal in South America."

"You warn't with him there, was you?"

"No," I said; "but I was with him in the East Indian Islands."

"Then you tell him to stop about the West Indy Islands.  He may get some
birds there, but he won't if he goes to the coast yonder.  You tell him
I say so."

"What's the use?"  I said.  "Uncle has made his plans."

"Oh, yes, and he thinks he's going to do wonders with that cranky
cockboat."

He turned and nodded his head contemptuously at our good-sized boat
lashed on the deck amidships.

"It was the best he could get in Port Royal Harbour," I said, "and all
the better for being rather small."

"Why?" said the captain.

"Easier to manage.  We can go up the rivers in her, or sail along the
coast."

"You'll get snagged in the rivers, and pitched into the sea if you try
to coast along.  Oh, here he is!"

For at that moment Uncle Dick, looking particularly eager and inquiring,
came up to where we stood.

"Well, captain," he said, "having a word with my nephew about our boat?"

"That's so, sir," was the reply, "and about that venture of yours.  You
take my advice, now, and just go from port to port with me, and you can
buy all you want for a few dollars; and that'll be better than going up
country and catching fevers.  There's lots o' bird-skins to be bought."

Uncle Dick laughed good-humouredly.

"Why, captain," he said, "I might just as well have stopped in London
and bought a few bird-skins down by the docks."

"A deal better, doctor.  You don't know what you're cutting out for
yourself."

"We should come off badly for natural history specimens, captain, if
people followed your advice."

"Quite well enough, doctor.  I don't see much good in stuffed birds."

"Ah, well, captain," said my uncle, "we will not argue about that.  You
land us and our boat where I said."

"Do you know what sort of a place it is, sir?"

"Pretty well," replied my uncle.  "I shall know better when we reach
it."

"All right, sir.  You're my passenger, and I'll keep to my bargain.  But
don't you blame me if anything goes wrong."

"I never shall, believe me," said my uncle.

"You won't," said the captain, and he walked aft, shaking his head as if
our case was hopeless.

"Our friend is not very encouraging, Nat," said my uncle.  "He believes
that he knows better than we do, but I think we shall manage all the
same.  At any rate, we'll try."

"How far are we from the coast?"  I asked.

"Not above a day's run," said my uncle; "so have all your traps ready
for putting in the boat at any moment."

"Everything is ready, uncle," I said.

"That's right.  I shall be glad to get ashore and to work."

"Not more glad than I shall be, uncle," I said.  "I'm sick of being
cooped up on board ship with this skipper--there, he's at it again."

The voice of the captain in a furious passion abusing someone, followed
by the sound of a blow and a yelp such as a dog would give when kicked,
made Uncle Dick frown.

"The brute!" he muttered.  "How he does knock that poor lad about."

"It's shameful, uncle," I said, passionately, "if we stop on board much
longer I shall tell him he's what you said."

"No, hold your tongue, Nat," said my uncle.  "We have no right to
interfere.  He has often made my blood boil.  Ah! don't laugh.  I mean
feel hot, sir."

"I wasn't going to laugh, uncle," I said.  "It makes me wonder, though,
how boys can want to come to sea."

"All captains are not like our friend yonder," said Uncle Dick.  "But it
seems to me that he's a tyrant to everyone on board.  Who's being
bullied now?"

For just then sharp words were being exchanged, and a gruff voice cried:

"Do.  You hit me, and skipper or no skipper, I'll give it you back with
interest!"

"What! you mutinous dog!" shouted the captain.  "Here, boy, go down and
fetch my revolver from the cabin."

"Bah!" came in a loud voice.  "You daren't use it.  If you did, the crew
would put you in irons."

The ship's carpenter came by where we were stood, scowling fiercely at
us both, walked to the forecastle hatch, and went below.

"Yes, Nat," said my uncle, "I think we shall be happier out in the
woods.  Don't you wish we had Ebo here?"

"I've often wished it, uncle," I said.  "But perhaps we may pick up just
such a fellow out yonder."

"Such pieces of luck don't happen twice to the same people.  Hullo,
here's poor Doldrums.  Well, my lad, in trouble again?"

The ship's boy, a sallow, dirty-looking lad of about eighteen, but
stunted and, dwarfed for his age, came shuffling by us, to follow the
carpenter, and he held one hand to his eye and spoke in answer with his
face half averted.

"Trouble again, sir?" said the poor fellow, half piteously, half in
anger; "I aren't never been out of it since we sailed."

"What have you been doing?  Here, let me look at your face."

"Oh, never mind that, sir," said the lad, shrinking.

"But I do mind," said my uncle.  "Let me see."

Uncle Dick did not wait for the boy to take down his hand, but drew it
away, to show that the eye was red and swollen up.

"Did the captain do that?"  I said.

The lad nodded, and his forehead filled with lines.

"What had you been about?"

"Nothing, sir," said the lad bitterly.

"Then what had you left undone?"

"I dunno, sir.  I try all day long to do what the skipper wants, but
it's always kicks when it arn't blows; and when it's neither he's always
swearing at me.  I wish I was dead!" he cried passionately.

"Stop here," cried Uncle Dick, sharply, for the lad was moving off, with
his eye covered up again.

Regularly cowed, the lad stopped short, flinching the while.

"Don't do that," said Uncle Dick.  "I was not going to strike you."

"No, sir, but everybody else does, 'cept the carpenter.  But I don't
care now; I shall go overboard and end it."

"Why?" said Uncle Dick.

"Why, sir?  What's the good o' living such a life as this?"

"This ship is not the whole world, my lad, and all the people are not
like the captain."

The lad looked half wonderingly at my uncle, and then turned to me with
so pitiful a look that I felt ready to take the poor fellow's part the
next time he was in trouble.

"Everyone nearly seems the same to me," he said drearily.  "I don't know
why I come to sea.  Thought it was all going to be adventures and
pleasure, and it's all kicks and blows, just because I'm a boy."

The poor fellow looked enviously at me, and sniffing loudly, walked on.

"It ought to be stopped, uncle," I said.  "The poor fellow's life is
made miserable."

"Yes, Nat.  It is terrible to see how one man can make other people's
lives a burden to them.  I'm a regular tyrant to you sometimes."

I laughed.

"Why, Aunt Sophy says you spoil me," I cried.

"Well, we will not argue about that, my boy," said my uncle; "we've too
much to think about.  In twenty-four hours we shall be afloat with our
boat to ourselves; and the sooner the better, for if she's out of the
water much longer we shall have her leaky."

He walked to where our half-decked boat lay in its chocks, with all her
tackle carefully lashed in place, and I could not help feeling proud of
our possession, as I thought of the delights of our river trips to come,
and the days when we should be busy drying and storing skins on board,
for it was planned out that we were to make the rivers our highways as
far as possible, and live on board, there being a snug cabin under the
half-deck, while well-oiled sail-cloth was arranged to draw over the
boom, which could be turned into the ridge pole of a roof, and shut in
the after part of the boat, making all snug at night, or during a
tropical downpour.

"She's rather too big for us, Nat," said my uncle, "and I hope they will
have no accident when they lower her down."

"Oh, I hope not, uncle," I said.

"So do I, my boy, but they were clumsy enough in getting her on board.
However, we shall have troubles in plenty without inventing any."

We stood together, leaning over the side and talking about our plans,
which were to collect any new and striking birds that we could find,
while specially devoting ourselves to shooting the quetzals, as they
were called by the natives, the splendid trogons whose plumes were worn
by the emperors of the past.

"And I'm not without hope, Nat," said my uncle, "that in course of our
journeys up in the mountains, in the parts which have not yet been
explored, we may find the Cock of the Rocks.  I see no reason whatever
why those birds should not inhabit suitable regions as far north as
this.  It is hot enough in Central America, as hot as Brazil, and far
hotter than Peru."

"What about humming-birds, uncle," I said.

"We shall find plenty, and perhaps several that have never before been
collected; but we must not want ordinary specimens.  We must not
overload ourselves, but get only what is choice."

Our conversation was interrupted by the coming of the captain, who
looked at us searchingly.

"Well, doctor," he said; "been thinking it all over?"

"Yes," said Uncle Dick, quietly.

"And you're going to let me take you in to Belize?"

"Indeed I'm not," said my uncle quietly.  "I made all my plans before I
started, and explained to you before we sailed from Port Royal what I
wished you to do."

"Well, yes, you did say something about it."

"The something was that you should drop me where I wished--somewhere in
Yucatan or on Mosquito Coast."

"That's right, doctor; you did."

"Very well, then; according to your calculations at noon to-day, we
shall be within sight of land about mid-day to-morrow."

"Dessay we shall, among the cays and reefs and little bits of islands
yonder."

"Then you will fulfil your part of the agreement at mid-day."

"Drop you and your boat out at sea?"

"Yes," said Uncle Dick.

"I say; doctor, air you mad?"

"I hope not."

"Well, I begin to think you must be, for this is about the most
unheard-of thing a man could do.  You and this boy of yours have got to
live."

"Of course," said my uncle.

"Well, what are you going to live on?"

"If I must explain, the stores contained in the cases you have of mine
below."

"Hah!" cried the captain; "well, that's right, I suppose.  But what
about fresh water?"

"There is the cask, and a little tank belonging to the boat.  They are
both full, and we shall never be out of sight of land while on the
coast.  Afterwards we shall be journeying up the different rivers."

"But when you've eaten all your stores, what then, doctor?"

"I hope we shall never be in that condition," said my uncle, "for we
shall husband our stores as reserves, and live as much as we can upon
the fish we catch and the birds we shoot."

"Ha, ha, ha!" laughed the captain.  "Going up the rivers, air you?"

"Yes."

"Then you'd better try and ketch the sea cows.  They're big as
elephants, and one o' them'll last you two, six months if she don't go
bad."

"Thank you," said my uncle, smiling; "but we shall be content with
smaller deer than that."

"Well, I guess I don't like letting you go doctor," said the captain.

"So it seems," said my uncle quietly.  "Pray why?"

"Don't seem fair to young squire here, for one thing."

"Have you any other reason?" said my uncle.

"You two can't manage a boat like that."

"We have managed a bigger one before.  Any other reason?"

"Well, yes; you two'll come to grief, and I don't want to be brought to
book for setting you adrift on about the maddest scheme I ever heerd
tell of."

"Ah, now we understand one another," said my uncle, quietly.  "Well, you
may set you mind at rest, sir.  I am the best judge of the risks to be
run, and you will never be called to account for my actions."

"Well, don't blame me if you both find yourselves on your backs with
fever."

"Never fear, captain," said my uncle.  "If it is calm in the morning, as
soon as we are within sight of land--"

"What land?"

"Any land on or off the coast, I shall be obliged by your getting my
boat over the side, and the stores and chests out of the hold and cabin,
so that we can get everything stowed away, then you can take us in tow,
and I can cast off as soon as I like."

"All right," said the captain, and he went forward once more, while we
two stayed on deck watching the wonderful sunset, till the great golden
orange ball dipped down out of sight behind the clouds, which looked
like ranges of mountains rising from some glorious shore.

We were not long afterwards made aware of the captain's reason for going
forward, his voice rising in angry bullying tones, and we soon found
that he and the fierce carpenter were engaged in a furious quarrel,
which ended as quickly as it began, the captain making his reappearance,
driving the ship's boy before him, and hastening the poor fellow's
sluggish, unwilling movements by now and then giving him a kick.



CHAPTER TWO.

OUR START.

My sleep was disturbed that night by dreams of sea cows as big as
elephants, orange-coloured birds in huge flocks, and golden-green
quetzals flying round my head, with their yard-long tails spread out,
and their scarlet breasts gleaming in the sunshine which flashed through
my cabin window.

I was puzzling myself as to how the beautiful birds could be out there
at sea, and why it was that Uncle Dick and I could be walking about at
the same time among golden mountains, which were, I felt sure, only last
evening's sunset clouds, when all at once it was quite clear, for Uncle
Dick cried:

"Now then, Nat, my boy, tumble out, tumble out.  The sun's up, and we've
no end to do.  The men are at work already."

I was awake then, and after hurriedly dressing, I went on deck, to find
out that the noises I had been hearing were caused by the men making
fast some tackle to our boat, ropes being passed through a pulley block
at the end of a swinging boom, and when they were ready the mate gave
orders.  Then the men began to haul, and as the ropes tightened the
heavy boat was lifted out of the chocks in which she lay, and with a
good deal of creaking was swung out over the bulwarks quite clear of the
steamer's side, and then lowered down with her bows much lower than the
stern, so that it looked as if the boat we had trusted to for taking us
many a long journey was about to dive down under the sea.

But she was too well built, and as she kissed the flashing waters she
began to float, the stern part dipping lower till she was level, and the
ropes grew slack, when all the men gave a cheer as she glided along
beside the steamer, tugging at the rope which was made fast to her bows.

Next Uncle Dick went down into her with the carpenter, and I was left on
deck to superintend the getting up of our chests and boxes of stores,
which were lowered down into the boat, the carpenter; who looked quiet
and civil enough now, working well at packing in the chests so that they
fitted snugly together and took up little room.

Then our two small portmanteaus of clothes were swung down, followed by
the cartridge-boxes and the long case which held our guns and rifles.
Lastly the tank in the stern was filled with fresh water, and the little
cask swung down and lashed under the middle thwart.

"How much more is there to come, Nat?" asked my uncle, as I stood on
deck, looking down.

"That's all, uncle," I said.

"Bravo! for we're packed pretty close.  Hardly room to move, eh,
carpenter?"

"I don't see much the matter, sir," said the man.  "Everything's nice
and snug, and these boxes make like a deck.  Bimeby when you've used
your stores you can get rid of a chest or two."

"No," said Uncle Dick; "we shall want them to hold the specimens we
shoot.  But you've packed all in splendidly, my lad."

"Thankye, sir," said the man gruffly, and just then I heared a low weary
sigh from somewhere close by, and turning sharply, I saw the ship's boy
standing there with his left hand up to his face, looking at me
piteously.

"Hallo!"  I said, smiling; "how's the eye this morning?"

"Horrid bad, sir," he answered.

"Let me look."

He took away his hand slowly and unwillingly, showing that the eye was a
good deal swollen and terribly blackened.

"You wouldn't like an eye like that, sir?" he said, with a faint smile.

"No," I said angrily; "and it's a great shame."

I hardly know how it was that I had it there, where money was not likely
to be of use, but I had a two-shilling piece in my pocket, and I gave it
to the poor fellow, as it seemed to me like showing more solid sympathy
than empty words.

His face lit up so full of sunshine that I did not notice how dirty it
was as he clapped the piece of silver to the swollen eye.

"That will not do any good," I said, laughing.

"Done a lot, sir," he answered--"that and what you said."

He made a curious sound as if he were half choking then, and turned
sharply to run forward to the cook's galley.

By the time breakfast was over, land could be seen from the deck to
starboard, port, and right forward--misty-looking land, like clouds
settled here and there upon the surface of the sea.

This grew clearer and clearer, till about noon it was plain to see that
some of the patches were islands, while farther to the west the mainland
spread right and left with dim bluish-looking mountains in the distance.

It was early in the afternoon that the captain suddenly gave his orders,
the engine was stopped, and the boat towing far astern began to grind up
against the side, as it rose and fell on the heaving sea.

"Still of the same mind, doctor?" said the captain.

"Certainly, sir."

"Then now's your time.  Over you go."

"I thought you would run in a few miles nearer," said Uncle Dick.

"Did you, sir?" said the captain roughly; "then you made a great
mistake.  This sea swarms with reefs and shoals nigher in, and I'm not
going to be mad enough to risk my vessel, if you're mad enough to risk
your life.  Now, sir, please, I want to get ahead and claw off here
before it falls calm.  If I don't, some of these currents 'll be landing
me where I don't want to go."

"We are ready," said Uncle Dick.

"Haul that boat abreast the starboard gangway!" shouted the captain, and
a couple of men ran to obey the order.

"Well, good-bye, captain," said Uncle Dick, "and thank you for what
you've done."

"Good-bye, sir, and good luck to you.  You too, youngster; but it isn't
too late yet."

"Much," said my uncle, and it seemed quite strange to me that what
followed took so short a time.  For one minute we were on the deck of
the large vessel, the next we were standing up in our little boat,
waving our hats to the crew, who had crowded to the side to give us a
cheer; and the last faces I noted as they glided away were those of the
carpenter and the boy, who gazed after us in a wistful way, the latter
looking miserable in the extreme as he held his left hand over his eye.



CHAPTER THREE.

NIGHT ASHORE.

I was brought back to the present by my uncle giving me a hearty slap on
the shoulder.

"Ready to begin again, Nat?" he cried.

"Yes, uncle," I said eagerly.  "It seems like the old days come back."

"Ship the rudder, then, while I hoist the sail.  The skipper may be
right, so let's make use of this soft breeze to get to the mainland
before the calm leaves us at the mercy of the currents."

A few minutes later the boat careened over gently, and glided fast
through the water, while I steered, making for an opening which Uncle
Dick made out with his glass to be the mouth of a valley running up the
country.

"It's too far off to see all I want, Nat," he said, as he closed his
glass; "but I fancy we shall find a river there, and we'll run in and
try our luck.  If there's nothing attractive about the place, we'll make
a fresh start after a night's rest, and go on coasting along south till
we find the sort of place we want.  How well the boat sails with her
load!"

On we glided, with the vessel we had left gradually getting hull down as
the afternoon wore on, while we passed no less than three
tempting-looking wooded islets where we might have landed to pass the
night; but Uncle Dick shook his head.

"No, my boy," he said; "we'll keep to our course.  There are more of
these cays about, and we could land upon one if the wind dropped.  As it
holds fair, we'll run on to the mainland, for if it only keeps on till
sunset, we shall reach the shore before dark."

Uncle Dick was right, and as it drew near sunset I was feasting my eyes
on a wild-looking region whose beauty increased as we drew closer.
There was dense mangrove jungle, then cliff covered with verdure, and
this was broken up by patches of yellow sand backed by fringes of
cocoanut grove, which again gave place to open park-like forest with big
trees--this last where the great rocky bluff towered up with another
eminence on the other side of the opening--but there was no river,
nothing but a fine sandy cove, with a tiny stream running down from a
patch of beautiful forest.

As we ran in we had our last sight of the distant vessel which had
brought us so far on our journey, and Uncle Dick, who was standing up
forward to direct me in my steering, cried--

"Nothing could be better, Nat.  It's like landing on one of our old
islands.  Neither hut nor inhabitant to be seen.  This is genuine wild
country, and we shall find a river to-morrow.  I was half afraid that we
should be coming upon sugar or coffee plantations, or perhaps men
cutting down the great mahogany trees."

I was as delighted as he was, for my mind was full of the
gloriously-plumaged bird we meant to shoot, and there in imagination I
peopled the flower-decked bushes with flashing humming-birds whose
throats and crests glowed with scale-like feathers, brilliant as the
precious stones--emerald, topaz, ruby, and sapphire--after which they
were named.  The great forest trees would be, I felt sure, full of the
screaming parrot tribe, in their uniforms of leafy green, faced with
orange, blue, and crimson; while, farther up the country, there would be
the splendid quetzals, all metallic golden-green and scarlet.

But I had little time for thought.  In a short time, in obedience to my
uncle's orders, I had steered the boat right into the mouth of the
little stream beyond where the salt waves broke; the sail was lowered
and furled and the anchor carried ashore and fixed between two masses of
rock, so that it could not be dragged out by the tugging of the craft.

"Wouldn't do to wake up and find our boat gone, Nat," said Uncle Dick,
"if we set up our tent on shore.  The sand looks very tempting, and we
are not likely to be disturbed.  But now then, start a fire, while I
unpack some stores, and--yes--we will.  We'll set up the tent to sleep
under.  More room to stretch our legs."

I was not long in getting a fire burning, with the kettle full of the
beautiful rivulet water heating; while Uncle Dick stuck in the two
pointed and forked sticks with which we were provided, laid the pole
from fork to fork, and spread the oiled canvas sheet over it, so that
there was a shelter from the night dews.

But before our coffee was ready and the bacon for our supper fried,
night was upon us, and the bushes near scintillating in the most
wondrous way, every twig seeming to be alive with fire-flies.

For a short space of time, as we sat there on the sands, partaking of
our meal--than which nothing more delicious had ever passed my lips--all
was still but the lapping of the tiny waves and the musical trickling of
the rivulet amongst the rocks and stones.  Then I jumped, for a peculiar
cry arose from the forest behind us, and this seemed to be the signal
for an outburst of sounds new to me, piping, thrumming, drumming,
shrieking, howling, grunting in every variety, and I turned to look in
Uncle Dick's face, which was lit up by the glow from our little wood
fire.

"Brings back old times in the South American forests, Nat," he said
coolly.  "I could put a name to nearly every musician at work in
Nature's orchestra yonder."

"What was that horrible cry?"  I whispered.  "Jaguar or puma?"

"Neither, my boy; only a heron or crane somewhere up the stream."

"That snorting croak, then?"

"Only frogs or toads, Nat; and that chirruping whirring is something in
the cricket or cicada way.  If we heard a jaguar or puma, it would most
likely be a magnified tom-cat-like sort of sound."

"But that mournful howl, uncle?"  I whispered.

"A poor, melancholy spider-monkey saying good-night to his friends in
the big trees.  Most of the other cries are made by night-birds out on
the hunt for their suppers.  That cry was made by a goat-sucker, one of
those `Chuck-Will's-widow' sort of fellows.  They're very peculiar,
these night-hawks.  Even ours at home keeps up that whirring,
spinning-wheel-like sound in the Surrey and Sussex fir-woods.  Ah,
that's a dangerous creature, if you like!" he said, in a whisper.

"Which?"  I said, below my breath.

"That piping _ping-wing-wing_."

"Why, that's a mosquito, uncle," I cried contemptuously.

"The only thing likely to attack us to-night, Nat," he said, laughing;
"but we'll have the guns and everything ready all the same."

"To shoot the mosquitoes, uncle?"

"No, but anything that might--mind, I say _might_--come snuffing about
us."

Uncle Dick was so calm and cool over it that he made me the same, and
the little nervous sensation caused by the novelty of my position soon
passed away.  The guns were loaded and laid ready, a couple of blankets
spread, and utterly wearied out, after making up the fire, we crept into
our tent and lay down to get a good night's sleep.

"We'll rest on shore wherever it's safe, Nat," were Uncle Dick's last
words.  "It's nicer to have the solid ground under you.  This is a
treat; the sand's like a feather bed; but we shan't often have such a
luxurious place.  Good-night."

"One moment, uncle," I whispered, as I heard a rustling sound somewhere
in the bushes.  "What do you think is making that?"

I waited for him to answer, under the impression that he was listening
to make sure before he replied; but as he took no heed, I spoke again,
but only to hear his hard breathing, for he was fast asleep, and I
started up in horror, for the strange rustling sound, as of a huge snake
or alligator creeping through the dry grass and bushes, began again much
nearer than before.



CHAPTER FOUR.

THE DANGERS OF THE NIGHT.

It is not pleasant to hear a noise as of something forcing its way
through bushes close by your bedside, when instead of the strong walls
of a house in a thickly inhabited place, with police to protect you,
there is nothing but a thin piece of canvas between you and a forest
swarming, for aught you can tell, with hosts of dangerous creatures
seeking their prey.

I felt that in my first night where I lay by the outskirts of one of the
Central American forests, and I should have seized Uncle Dick by the arm
and shaken him into wakefulness but for the dread of being considered
cowardly.

For he seemed so calm and confident that I dared not wake him up, to be
told that the noise I heard was only made by some innocent animal that
would flee for its life if I slipped outside.

"I wonder whether that would," I said to myself.  "I'll try."

I made up my mind that I would take my double gun from where it lay
beside me and go out; but it was a long time before I could make up my
body to act; and when at last, in anger with myself for being so
cowardly, I did creep out softly and make a dash in the direction of the
sound, I was bathed in perspiration, and my legs shook beneath me, for I
felt certain that the next minute I should be seized by some monstrous
creature ready to spring at me out of the darkness.

But nothing did seize me.  For there was a thud and a faint crash
repeated again and again, and though I could not see, I felt certain
that the fire had attracted some deer-like creature, which had gone
bounding off, till all was silent again, when I crept back, letting the
canvas fall behind me, feeling horribly conceited, and thinking what a
brave fellow I must be.

I must have gone off to sleep directly I lay down then, for one moment I
was looking at the dull-reddish patch in the canvas behind which the
fire was burning, and the next everything was blank, till all at once I
was wide awake, with a hand laid across my mouth, and the interior of
our scrap of a tent so dark that I could see nothing; but I could hear
someone breathing, and directly after Uncle Dick whispered:

"Lie still--don't speak."

He removed his hand then, and seemed to be listening.

"Hear anything, Nat?" he said.

"Not now, uncle.  I did a little while ago, and took my gun and went
out."

"Ah!  What was it?"

"Some kind of deer, and it bounded away."

"It was no deer that I heard, my boy," he whispered, "but something big
and heavy.  Whatever it was trod upon a stick or a shell, and it snapped
loudly and woke me up.  There it is again."

I heard the sound quite plainly in the darkness, and it was exactly as
Uncle Dick described, but I leaned towards its being a fragile shell
trodden on by some big animal or a man.

"Couldn't be one of the great cats?"  I whispered.

"Oh, no! they tread like velvet."

"Could it be a tapir?"

"Not a likely place for one.  Hist!"

I was silent, and lay listening, so to speak, with all my might, till a
low swishing sound reached us, just as if someone had brushed against a
bush.

Uncle Dick laid his hand upon my shoulder, and he pressed it hard, as if
silently saying, "Did you hear that?"

I answered him in a similar way, and then he whispered:

"Someone is prowling round the tent, and we shall have to go out and
challenge them."

"Suppose they are savages with bows and arrows?"  I whispered back.

"Too dark for them to take aim," he said.  "A bold dash out will scare
them, and I'll fire over their heads."

I felt as if it would be safer to stay where we were; but it seemed
cowardly, so I was silent.

"I'll go out at once," said Uncle Dick, and I was silent for a moment,
and then rose with my gun ready.

"I'll come with you, uncle," I whispered.

He pressed my hand before creeping softly out; and I followed, to find
that the darkness was as black as inside the tent; that the fire-flies
had ceased to shimmer and flash about the low trees, and that the fire
was so nearly out that there was nothing visible but a faint glow.

"Stand fast," whispered Uncle Dick, "while I throw on some of the light
twigs we put ready."

I did not remember putting any light twigs ready, nor anything else just
then, for my head was full of wild thoughts, and I was straining my
eyesight in all directions, with my gun cocked and ready to fire at the
first attack.

All at once there was a rustle as the twigs were thrown on the glowing
embers; a sharp crackling followed, and a bright flame sprang up.

At almost the same moment there came from the trees beyond the sound of
a rush being made through the bushes, and then the report of Uncle
Dick's gun as he fired twice.

Someone uttered an ejaculation, the rushing sound increased, and
directly after there came a loud crashing noise as if someone had
fallen; but he--or it--was up again directly, and our enemies, by the
splashing and crackling sounds, seemed to be retreating up the bed of
the rivulet.

I stood ready to fire, but reserved my shot, as there seemed to be no
need; and as I listened intently I could hear Uncle Dick slipping fresh
cartridges into his gun, and the click it gave as he closed the breech.

"Hadn't we better get into shelter?"  I whispered.  "We offer such a
good mark for an arrow."

"No, my boy," said my uncle; "the fire is between us and the enemy, and
we are quite safe."

For the twigs were blazing merrily now, and sending out a bright light,
which spread around and made the nearest trees stand out and the little
tent look bright and clear.

But the next moment something else caught my eye, and the startled
sensation seemed to cause a catching of my breath as I stood pointing
down at the smooth patch of sand beside the trickling water of the
stream--a patch over which a wave must have lately passed, it was so
smooth, while close up towards the fire, and where the full blaze of
light played, were the objects which had struck my eye.

"What is it, Nat?" said my uncle sharply, and then as he caught sight of
the marks too, he answered his own question aloud:

"Footprints--men's--yes, more than one.  Hah!  Look-out, Nat; I can hear
them coming back."

Uncle Dick's ears seemed to be sharper than mine, for though I listened
intently and stood prepared to fire, some minutes elapsed before I heard
a sound, and then it was not from up the stream, but from overhead--a
sharp whistling cry--which was repeated again and again, and I caught
the flash of wings as a large bird circled round, evidently attracted by
the fire, which was kept blazing.

"Throw on some more, Nat," said my uncle; "it will serve to keep them at
a distance.  Perhaps we've scared the savages off for good."

"I hope so," I said; "but we mustn't go to sleep again."

"You're a queer chap, Nat, if you could go to sleep after this; I
couldn't."

"But they may not be savages, uncle," I said.

"Perhaps not, but the place seemed so wild that I don't think they could
be anything else.  We must take turn and turn to watch till daylight.
You go and lie down."

"No, uncle," I said; "I'd rather stay and watch.  What time is it?"

"About midnight, I should think," he said, pulling out the big old
silver hunting-watch that accompanied him on all his travels, and
holding it down in the full light from the fire.  "Humph!" he
ejaculated.  "What time do you say?"

"Not much more than ten," I said decisively.  "I had only just dropped
asleep."

"It took you a long time to drop, then," he said drily.  "Ah!  Look at
that bird.  It will singe its wings directly."

"What time is it, then?"  I said, for I was more interested in knowing
how long I should have to watch in the darkness than in the flight of a
bird.

"Like to know exactly, Nat?" said my uncle.

"Of course," I said, wonderingly.

"You shall, then, my boy.  It's ten minutes, thirty seconds, past six."

"Nonsense, uncle!"  I cried.  "The old watch must have stopped.  Did you
forget to wind it up?"

For answer he held it to my ear, and it was ticking loudly, while as he
lowered it and I glanced at the face, I could see that the second hand
had moved some distance on.

"Do you think it is right?"  I said.

"Yes; we were fagged out last night and slept very soundly.  You'll soon
know, for it will be daylight directly."

Both the watch and my uncle were right--for the scream of a parrot
reached my ears soon after, followed by whistlings and pipings from the
forest; while soon after a horribly harsh grating screech came from
overhead, and I caught a glimpse of the bird which uttered it--one of
the great long-tailed Aras, on its way with three or four more to a
favourite part of the forest.

"Going figging, Nat," said my uncle, putting some more wood on the fire,
not for the sake of the light--for away across the sea the dawn was
brightening fast, after the way of sunrise and sunset in tropic lands;
and even as I looked there, far on high, was a faint fleck of orange
light on a tiny cloud.  A few minutes later there were scores, and the
birds were singing and chirping in all directions, even the sea
furnishing the screams and peculiar cries of the various ducks and
gulls.

"How glorious!"  I said softly, for the beauty of the scene around in
the glow of the morning light made me forget the darkness of the night
and the terrors that it brought.

"Yes, Nat; we've hit upon birdland the first try," said my uncle.  "But
it seems as if we shall have to leave it unless we can be sure that the
Indians are friendly."

As he spoke, we both examined the footprints again.

"Savage marks for certain, Nat," said my uncle.  "Do you see?  These
fellows have not been in the habit of wearing shoes."

"Yes, I see," I replied.  "The big toe so wide away from the others."

"You see that at a glance.  I suppose it would be unwise to follow them;
they would hear us coming, and might send a couple of arrows into us--
perhaps poisoned.  It's a pity Nat; for there are plenty of birds about,
and we could get some good specimens.--Yes; what is it?"

"They've been all along here, right down to the sea, uncle.  See their
tracks?"

"Yes; and I can see something else," he said, shading his eyes, and
looking to right and left anxiously in the now broad daylight.

"What can you see?"  I asked.

He pointed now, and I saw what he meant.

"The marks made by a boat," I said.  "Why, uncle, they must have come in
a canoe, and been attracted by our fire.  Can you see their canoe?"

"No," said my uncle, after a long look round and away over the
glittering waters.  "But it's bad, Nat.  They will not have gone far
away, and will be coming back here in search of it."

"Then we shall have to take to the boat again and sail farther down the
coast."

"We'd better get on board, my lad, certainly," said my uncle; "so let's
roll up the tent, and--ah! look-out!  Quick, lad--your gun!"

I was ready directly, cocked both barrels of my piece, my heart beating
fast in the emergency--for the danger we dreaded seemed to be at hand.



CHAPTER FIVE.

A SURPRISE.

"Ahoy!  Don't shoot," came from out of the dense jungle up the stream.

"Why, uncle," I cried, "that doesn't sound like a savage."

"It's worse, Nat," said my uncle.  "There's a terribly English sound
about it."

"Ahoy, I say!" came again.  "Don't shoot!"

"Ahoy! who are you?" shouted my uncle.

"Don't shoot, and we'll come out," came in tones half smothered by the
thick growth.

"We're not going to fire.  Who are you, and what are you doing here?"

There was a sharp brushing sound of leafage being forced aside, the
splashing of feet in water, and the soft rattle of pebbles being moved
in the stream bed by feet, and the next minute two figures came from
under the pendent bough, which nearly touched the water and stood in the
bright glow of the rising sun, while astonishment brought the words to
our lips:

"The carpenter!" cried my uncle.  And I burst out laughing as I said:

"That boy!"

"Why, we took you for savages," said my uncle.  "Was it you two who came
to the fire last night?"

"And you shot at us," said the boy, in a doleful voice.

"Shot at you?" cried my uncle angrily.  "Of course I did.  How dare you
come prowling about our tent in the dead of night!"

"Didn't prowl, sir," said the boy humbly.  "We could see your fire
burning like a light as we come along, and we came straight to it,
landed--and landed--and you came out, sir--came out, sir--and fired at
us."

"Then you should have shouted."

"Yes, sir," said the boy, "but we was afraid to--feared you'd fire at
us."

"But you see now, you came the wrong way."

"Yes, sir," said the boy, glancing at the carpenter; "we did come the
wrong way."

"Well, what is it?  Did we leave anything behind?  Very good of the
captain to send you."

"Didn't send us, sir," said the boy, looking down.

"Not send you?" cried Uncle Dick, staring.  "How is it you came, then?"

The boy shifted his weight from one foot to the other, scooping up the
dry sand with his toes, and turned to his companion, who gave me a
peculiar look and stood frowning.

"Why don't you speak out and tell the gentleman, Bill Cross?"

"I left it to you, boy.  You've got a tongue in your head."

"Yes; but you're bigger and older than me.  But I don't mind telling.
You see, Mr Nat, sir," he said, suddenly turning to me, "I couldn't
stand it any longer.  They was killing of me, and as soon as you was
gone, sir, it seemed so much worse that I went and shook hands with Bill
Cross, who was the only one who ever said a kind word to me, and I
telled him what I was going to do."

"Told him you were going to run away?" said my uncle.

"No, sir," said the boy promptly.  "I telled him I'd come to say
good-bye, for as soon as it was too dark for them to see to save me I
was going to--"

"Run away?" said my uncle sternly, for the boy had stopped short.

"No, sir," he resumed; "I was going to jump overboard."

"Why, you miserable, wicked young rascal, how dare you tell me such a
thing as that?" cried my uncle.

The boy gave a loud sniff.

"That's just what Bill Cross said, sir: and that he'd knock my blessed
young head off if I dared to do such a thing."

"Did you say that?" asked my uncle.

"Yes, sir, I did, sir," said the man gruffly; "and a very stupid thing
too."

"How stupid?" said my uncle.

"If he drowned himself and went to the bottom, how was I ever to get the
chance to hit him, sir?"

"Humph!  I see," said my uncle; "but you meant right.  And what then?"
he continued, turning back to the boy.

"Bill Cross said, sir, that if I'd got the spirit of a cockroach I
wouldn't do that.  `Cut and run,' he says."

"Quite right," said my uncle.  "I mean, get to another ship."

"`Where am I to run to?'  I says.  `I can't run atop of the water.'

"`No,' he says; `but you could get in a boat when it was dark and row
away.'  `I dursen't,' I says; `it would be stealing the boat.'  `You
could borrow it,' he says; `that's what I'm going to do.'  `You are?'  I
says.  `I am,' he says; `for I'd sooner die o' thirst on the roaring
main,' he says, `than put up with any more.'  You did, didn't you,
mate?" he cried, appealingly.

"I did," growled the carpenter; "and I stick to it."

"He said that as soon as it was dark he should manage to lower one of
the boats and follow yours, and ask you to take him as crew; and if you
wouldn't, he should go ashore and turn Robinson Crusoe."

"That's right, boy," said the carpenter; "and I would."

"And I says to him, sir, `Bill Cross,' I says, `if I tars myself black,
will you let me come with you and be your man Friday?'"

"And what did he say to that?" asked my uncle, frowning.

"Said I was black enough already, sir, without my having a black eye;
and if I come with him, he'd promise me never to behave half so bad as
the skipper did, so of course I come."

"Took one of the ship's boats and stole away with it?" said my uncle.

The boy nodded, and my uncle turned to the carpenter.

"Is this all true?" he asked.

"Yes, sir, every word of it.  You know how bad it was."

"And you followed our boat?"

"Followed the way we last saw your sail, sir, for long before it was
dark the boat went out of sight.  But just as I'd give up all hope of
seeing it again, we saw your fire like a spark on shore, and we come
after that."

"Rowed?"  I said.

"No, sir; sailed.  There's a little lug-sail to the boat.  We didn't
lose sight of the fire again, and at last we ran our boat ashore."

"And you've come to offer your services?" said my uncle.

"Yes, sir," said the man gruffly.

"But even if I could take you under the circumstances, I don't want the
services of any man."

"Your's is a big boat, sir, and hard to manage, particular at sea," said
the carpenter.

"I know the boat's capabilities better than you can tell me," said my
uncle shortly, "and I do not require help."

"Then we've made a bad job of it, boy," said the carpenter.

"The gentleman don't know what we can do, Bill, and how useful we should
be."

"I daresay," said my uncle, frowning, "but I do not want a man, nor
another lad."

"If you'll only let me stop, sir," said the boy piteously.  "I don't
want no wages, and I won't eat much, only what you've done with, and
there arn't nothing I won't do.  I'll carry anything, and work--oh, how
I will work!  I'll be like your dog, I will, and you can both knock me
about and kick me, and I won't say a word.  You won't hit me half so
hard as the skipper and the men did; and even if you did, you're only
two, and there's twenty of them; so if you're allus doing it I shall be
ten times better off."

"It's my duty to send you and your mate, here, back to the ship," said
Uncle Dick.

"Oh, don't say that, sir," cried the boy; "but if you did, we shouldn't
go, for Bill Cross said if you wouldn't take us along with you we'd go
and live in the woods, and if we starved to death there, we should be
better off than aboard ship."

"But you signed for the voyage, my man," said Uncle Dick, "and if I
consented to take you with me I should be helping you to defraud the
owners."

"Serve the owners right, sir, for having their people treated like dogs,
or worse," growled the carpenter.  "'Sides, I don't see what fraud there
is in it.  I've worked hard these two months, and drawn no pay.  They'll
get that, and they may have it and welcome."

"That's all very well," said Uncle Dick, "but a bargain's a bargain.
The want of two hands in an emergency may mean the loss of the ship, and
you and this lad have deserted.  No; I can't agree to it; you must take
your boat and go back."

"Can't, sir, now," said the carpenter bitterly; "and I thought we was
coming to English gentlemen who would behave to a couple of poor
wretches like Christians."

"It is no part of a Christian's duty to be unjust.  You know you have
done wrong and have helped this poor lad to do the same," said my uncle.

"I should have fought it out, sir, if it hadn't been for the poor boy.
Dog's life's nothing to what he went through."

"Where is your boat?" said Uncle Dick, suddenly.

The carpenter laughed.

"I dunno, sir," he said; "we sent her adrift when we landed, and you
know what the currents are along here better, p'raps, than I do."

"What! you've sent your boat adrift?"

"Yes, sir; we made up our minds to cut and run, and we can't go back
now.  We didn't want to steal the boat.  They'll get it again."

Uncle Dick frowned and turned to me.

"This is a pretty state of affairs, Nat; and it's like forcing us to
take them on board and sail after the steamer.  What's to be done?"

"Cannot we keep them, uncle?"

"Keep them?  I don't want a boy to kick and knock about and jump on,
sir.  Do you?"

"Well, no, uncle," I said; "but--"

"But!  Yes, it's all very well to say `but,' my lad.  You don't see how
serious it is."

"I'd serve you faithful, sir," said the carpenter.  "I'm not going to
brag, but I'm a handy man, sir.  You might get a hole in the boat, and I
didn't bring no clothes, but I brought my tools, and I'm at home over a
job like that.  You might want a hut knocked up, or your guns mended.
I'd do anything, sir, and I don't ask for pay.  It might come to your
wanting help with the blacks.  If you did, I'd fight for you all I
could."

"Well, I don't know what to do, Nat.  What do you say?"

The boy darted forward wildly and threw himself upon his knees.

"Say _yes_, Mr Nat; say _yes_!" he cried imploringly.  "Don't send us
off, sir, and you shan't never repent it.  You know what made us run
away.  Say yes, sir; oh, say yes!"

"I can't say anything else, uncle," I said, in a husky voice.

"Hooray!" yelled the boy, throwing his cap in the air.  "Do you hear,
Bill Cross?  The gentleman says `yes'!"

The loud shout and the flying up of the cap had the effect of starting a
little flock of birds from the nearest trees, and, obeying the instinct
of the moment, Uncle Dick raised his gun and fired--two barrels, each of
which laid low one of the birds, which dropped in different directions.

I was off after one of them directly, and, in utter disregard of Uncle
Dick's warning shout, the boy was off after the other, but took some
time to find it in the dense growth amongst which it had fallen.

"A beautiful little finch, uncle," I said, as I brought back my prize.

"Lovely!" he cried.  "I never saw one like this before.  It's a pity I
did not stop that fellow.  He will have spoiled the other."

But he was wrong, for the boy was just then coming from among the low
bushes, carefully bearing the second bird upon the top of his cap, which
he held between his hands like a tray.

"Is he all right, sir?" said the bearer excitedly.  "I picked him up by
his neb and never touched his feathers."

"Yes, in capital order," said Uncle Dick.  "Come, you've begun well!"

The boy's eyes flashed with pleasure, and taking advantage of Uncle Dick
being busy over the birds, he turned to me.

"Then we may stop with you, Master Nat?" he whispered.

"I suppose so, but you must wait and see what my uncle says.  I say,
though," I cried, "will you keep your face clean if you're allowed to
stay?"

"Face?  Clean?" he said, passing his dirty hand over his dingy
countenance.  "Ain't it clean now?"

I burst into a roar of laughter, for the poor fellow's face was not only
thoroughly grubby, but decorated with two good-sized smudges of tar.

"You mean it's dirty, Mr Nat," he said seriously.  "All right; I'll go
and scrub it."

The next minute he was down on his knee at the water's edge scooping up
a handful of muddy sand and, as he termed it, scrubbing away as if he
would take off all the skin, and puffing and blowing the while like a
grampus, while the carpenter looked on as much amused as I.  But he
turned serious directly, and with an earnest look in his eyes he said:

"Thank you for what you said, Mr Nat, sir.  You shan't find me
ungrateful."

I nodded, and walked away to join my uncle, for I always hated to be
talked to like that.

Uncle Dick had his small case open, with its knife; cotton-wire, thread,
and bottle of preserving cream, and when I joined him where he was
seated he had already stripped the skin off one of the birds, and was
painting the inside cover with the softened paste; while a few minutes
later he had turned the skin back over a pad of cotton-wool, so deftly
that, as the feathers fell naturally into their places and he tied the
legs together, it was hard to believe that there was nothing but
plumage, the skin, and a few bones.

"Open the case," he said, and as I did so he laid his new specimen upon
a bed of cotton-wool, leaving room for the other bird, and went on
skinning in the quick clever way due to long practice.

"It doesn't take those two fellows long to settle down, Nat," he said,
as he went on.

"No, uncle," I replied, as I turned my eyes to where the boy had given
himself a final sluice and was now drying his face and head
pounce-powder fashion.  That is to say, after the manner in which people
dried up freshly-written letters before the days of blotting-paper.  For
the boy had moved to a heap of dry sand and with his eyes closely shut
was throwing that on his face and over his short hair.

"There's no question of right or wrong," said my uncle quietly.  "If we
do not take these fellows with us it means leaving them to starve to
death in the forest, for they have neither gun, boat, nor fishing
tackle."

"But it would be wrong not to take them," I said.

"Yes," replied my uncle drily.  Then he was silent for a few minutes
while he turned back the skin from the bird's wing joints, and all at
once made me look at him wonderingly, for he said "Bill!" with the
handle of the knife in his teeth.

"What about Bill?"  I said.

"Bill--Cross," continued my uncle.  "What's the other's name?"

"Boy," I said, laughing.  "I never heard him called anything else.
Hadn't we better call the carpenter Man?"

"It would be just as reasonable," said my uncle.  "Ask the boy his
name."

By this time our new acquisition was dry, and I stared at him, for he
seemed to be someone else as he dusted off the last of the sand.

It was not merely that he had got rid of the dirt and reduced the tar
smudges, but that something within was lighting up his whole face in a
pleasant, hearty grin as he looked up at me brightly in a way I had
never seen before.

"Is my face better, Mr Nat?" he said.

"Yes," I said, "ever so much; and you must keep it so."

"Oh, yes," he said seriously; "I will now.  It was no good before."

"What's your name?"  I said.

He showed his white teeth.

"Name?  They always called me Boy on board," he replied.

"Yes, but you've got a name like anyone else," I said.

"Oh, yes, sir," he replied, wrinkling up his forehead as if thinking
deeply; "I've got a name somewheres, but I've never seemed to want it.
Got most knocked out of me.  It's Peter, I know; but--I say, Bill
Cross," he cried sharply, "what's my name?"

The carpenter smiled grimly, and gave me a sharp look as much as to say,
"Wait a minute and you shall see me draw him out."

"Name, my lad," he said.  "Here, I say, you haven't gone and knocked
your direction off your knowledge box, have you?"

"I dunno," said the boy, staring.  "I can't 'member it."

"Where was it stuck on--your back?"

"Nay, it was in my head if it was anywhere.  Gahn!  You're laughing at
me.  Here!  I know, Mr Nat; it's Horn--Peter Horn.  That's it."

"Well, you are a thick-skulled one, Pete, not to know your own name."

"Yes," replied the boy thoughtfully; "it's being knocked about the head
so did it, I s'pose.  What shall I do now, sir?  Light a fire?"

"Yes, at once," I said, for the thought made me know that I was hungry.
"Make it now between those pieces of rock yonder by the boat."

The boy went off eagerly; Cross followed; and I went back, to find my
uncle finishing the second skin.

"That's a good beginning, Nat," he said.  "Now, then, the next thing is
to see about breakfast."

"And after that, uncle?"

"Then we'll be guided by circumstances, Nat," he replied.  "What we have
to do is to get into the wildest places we can find where its river,
forest, or mountain."

"Isn't this wild enough?"  I said.

"Yes, my boy; but I want to get up into the interior, and we must find a
road."

"A road means civilisation," I said.

"Ah! but I mean one of Nature's roads--a river.  Sooner or later we
shall find one up which we can sail, and when that is no longer possible
we must row or pole."

"Then we shall find the advantage, uncle, of having a little crew, and--
what's the matter now?"

I stared in astonishment, for the minute before Pete and the carpenter
were busy feeding the fire and trying to get the kettle they had swung,
gypsy fashion, on three bamboos, to boil.  Now they were both crawling
towards us on all-fours, Pete getting over the ground like a dog.

"It's all over, Master Nat, and good-bye if yer never sees us again.
It's Robinson Crusoe out in the woods now."

"Why, Bill," I said, "has he gone mad?"

"Pretty nigh, sir.  Look."

"Look at what?"

"Steamer, sir, found the boat, I s'pose, and they're coming round the
point to pick us up.  Good luck to you, gentlemen, and good-bye."

He plunged after Pete into the bed of the stream, and they disappeared
in the jungle, just as the steamer in full sail and close in came
gliding into our sight, towing a boat astern.



CHAPTER SIX.

A FALSE ALARM.

"It looks bad for them, poor fellows!" said my uncle, shading his eyes
to gaze seaward.  "The captain means to have them back."

"Nonsense! uncle," I said; "it's a false alarm.  That's not our ship."

"Not our ship?" he cried, springing up.  "Of course it's not.  And
whatever she is those on board don't see us."

We stood watching for a few minutes before I ran to the boat and got the
glass out of the locker to have a good look.

"Well, what do you make of her?" said my uncle.

"I don't know what she is," I said; "but there are only two people on
deck--one forward and the other leaning half asleep over the wheel.
Here, I'll go and call those two back."

"You'd call in vain," said my uncle, as I replaced the glass in the
case.  "They're beyond earshot, and you could not find them."

"What are we to do then, uncle?"  I said.

"Have breakfast, my boy.  I want mine."

"But those two poor fellows?"

"Well, they took fright, Nat.  A guilty conscience needs no accuser.
They had run from their ship, and the sight of one was enough to make
them feel that they were being sought."

"But we ought to do something, uncle," I said.

"We can't do anything but wait, my lad," he replied.  "There, don't be
uneasy; they'll come back as soon as they've got over the scaring.  I
daresay we shall see or hear of them before night."

My uncle's words brought back the hungry feeling which had been swept
away, and I saw to the breakfast, making the coffee and frizzling some
slices of bacon, the meal being thoroughly enjoyable, eaten there in the
shade of a great tree, while everything around looked beautiful in the
extreme; and it was not until my morning hunger was nearly appeased that
the flies and the flying thoughts of our late companions tormented me
much.

Then they began to get worse; and in a fit of sympathy I felt ashamed of
enjoying my meal so well while those two poor fellows were suffering
from hunger and fear.

"What's the matter, Nat?" said my uncle; and then, "Look!  Who'd have
thought of seeing humming-birds so near the sea?"

I did not reply, for I did not know which part of my uncle's remark to
answer first; so I stared at the lovely little birds flitting about some
flowers.

"Steamer's getting a good way along," said my uncle, after a few
minutes' silence.  "Here, I must have two or three of those little
beauties."

"They're not quetzals, uncle," I said, smiling.

"No; but I'm not going to miss getting rare specimens, Nat.  We may not
find the quetzals, and we must not go back empty-handed.  Is the anchor
quite fast?"

"Yes, uncle, perfectly," I said.

"Then let's get what good birds we can while we're waiting.  The sound
of our guns may bring those fellows back."

He was right, for about mid-day, when we were busily preparing some
skins of the lovely little humming-birds we had shot, I caught up the
gun by my side, for their was a peculiar piping cry.

"What bird's that?"  I said, in a sharp whisper.

"_Pee-wew_!" came softly.

"Some kind of sea bird," said my uncle.  "It sounds like a gull."

I laughed, and laid down my gun.

"Why are you doing that?" said my uncle.

"_Pee-wee_!" came the cry again.

"_Pee-wee_!"  I whistled, and then I shouted aloud, "All right!
Steamer's gone."

There was the cracking of twigs and a loud rustling sound, followed by
the sight of Pete, who crept out from among the bushes, hot, panting,
and with face and hands terribly scratched.

"Sure she's gone, Master Nat?" he said dolefully.

"Sure?  Yes," I cried.  "It wasn't our ship at all."

"There, I knowed it warn't all the time, only Bill Cross said he was
sure it were.  Here, come out!  Way he! it's all right."

The carpenter forced his way out of the jungle soon after, glaring at
Pete.

"Here," he cried gruffly, "what d'ye mean by scaring a fellow like
that?"

"It warn't me," cried Pete.  "You said it was our ship coming after us."

"Never mind, now," said my uncle.  "Set the fire going again, and get
yourselves some breakfast; but don't be in such a hurry to take fright
next time.  We'd better have our dinner at the same time, Nat; and if
there's any wind this evening we'll sail southward."

There was plenty of wind, and so quite early in the afternoon the anchor
was placed on board, Pete tucked up his trousers and ran the boat out,
and then scrambled in to help with the sail.  Then, as the boat careened
over and glided away, he and his companion gave a hearty cheer.

We sailed along the coast southward for days and days, always finding
plenty to interest and a few specimens worth shooting, both Bill and
Pete looking on with the most intense interest at the skinning and
preserving, till one day the latter said confidently:

"I could do that, Mr Nat."

"Very well," I said; "you shall try with one of the next birds I shoot."

"At last," cried my uncle a day or two later, and, seizing the tiller,
he steered the boat straight for a wide opening and into what seemed to
be a lake, so surrounded were we by tropical trees.

But the current we met soon showed that we were at the mouth of a
good-sized river, and the wind being in our favour, we ran up it a dozen
miles or so before evening.

For a long time the shores right and left had been closing in, and our
progress growing slower, for the forest, which had been at some
distance, now came down to the water's edge, the trees were bigger, and
for the last two miles we had sailed very slowly, shut in as we were by
the great walls of verdure which towered far above the top of our mast
and completely shut out the wind.

Fortunately, the river was deep and sluggish so that progression was
comparatively easy, and every hundred yards displayed something tempting
to so ardent a naturalist as my uncle.

Not always pleasant, though, for the sluggish waters swarmed with huge
alligators, and every now and then one plunged in from the bank with a
mighty splash.

Some of the first we saw were approached innocently enough--for to
unaccustomed eyes they looked like muddy logs floating down stream, and
Pete laughed at me when I told him to lift his oar as we passed one so
drowsy that it paid no heed.

"Raise your oar-blade," I said, as we glided along, "or that brute may
turn angry and upset us."

I was sitting holding the tiller, steering, and Bill Cross held the
other oar, while my uncle, tired out by a tramp ashore, was lying down
forward, fast asleep, in the shadow cast by the sail, which kept on
filling and flapping--for in the reach we had now entered the wind was
hardly felt.

"I never saw a tree run at a boat, Master Nat," said Pete, as he raised
his oar-blade.  But before we had half passed the sleeping reptile the
boy gave it a sudden chop on the back, and then, horrified by the
consequence of his act, he started up in his place, plunged overboard
into the deep, muddy water on the other side, and disappeared.

For a moment or two I thought that we were all going to follow, for the
reptile struck the boat a tremendous blow with its tail as it plunged
down, raising the river in waves and eddies, and making our craft dance
so that the water nearly came over the side, and we all clung to the
nearest object to our hands.

"What's that?" cried my uncle.

"Alligator," I said, in a startled tone.

"Where's the boy?"

"Gone overboard."

"Not seized by one of the loathsome monsters?"

"Oh, no, sir," said Bill, who looked rather startled.  "He chopped it,
and it scared him over the side."

"Well, where is he?" cried my uncle, appealing to me, while I looked
vainly over the surface, which was now settling down.

"I--I don't know," I stammered.  "He went over somewhere here."

"But where did he come up?" cried my uncle.  "Haven't you seen him?"

I was silent, for a terrible feeling of dread kept me from speaking, and
my uncle turned to the carpenter.

"No, sir, I haven't seen him," was the reply.

"Let the boat drift down.  Don't pull, man, you're sending us over to
the other side.  Stop a moment."

My uncle hurriedly took Pete's place, seized the oar that was swinging
from the rowlock, and began to pull so as to keep the boat from
drifting, while I steered.

"Hadn't you better let her go down a bit, sir?" said the carpenter.  "He
may be drifting, and will come up lower."

"But the lad could swim," said my uncle, as I began to feel a horrible
chill which made my hands grow clammy.

"Swim?  Yes, sir--like a seal.  I'm getting skeart.  One of they great
lizardy things must have got him."

"Cease rowing!" cried my uncle, and he followed my example of standing
up in the boat and scanning the surface, including the nearest shore--
that on our left, where the trees came right down to the water.

They stopped together, and let the boat drift slowly with the current
downward and backward, till all at once there was a light puff of hot
wind which filled the sail, and we mastered the current, once more
gliding slowly up stream, with the water pattering against the sides and
bows.

But there was no sign of Pete, and having failed to take any bearings,
or to remember by marks on the shore whereabouts he had gone down, we
were quite at fault, so that when the wind failed again and the boat
drifted back, it was impossible to say where we had seen the last of the
poor lad.

I felt choking.  Something seemed to rise in my throat, and I could only
sit there dumb and motionless, till all at once, as the wind sprang up
again, filled the sail, and the boat heeled over, the necessity of doing
something to steer her and keep her in the right direction sent a thrill
through me, and I did what I ought to have done before.

For, as the water rattled again under the bows and we glided on, I
shouted aloud--

"Pete, lad, where are you?"

"Ahoy!" came from a distance higher up, farther than we could have
deemed possible after so much sailing.

"Hooray!" shouted the carpenter.  "Why he's got ashore yonder."

"Where did the hail come from, Nat?" said my uncle, with a sigh of
relief.

"Seemed to be from among the trees a hundred yards forward there to the
left."

"Run her close in, then, and hail, my lad," he cried.

He had hardly spoken before the wind failed again, and they bent to
their oars.

"Where are you, Pete?"  I shouted.

"Here, among the trees," came back, and I steered the boat in the
direction, eagerly searching the great green wall of verdure, but seeing
nothing save a bird or two.

"Are you ashore?"  I shouted.

"Nay!  It's all water underneath me.  Come on, sir.  Here I am."

A few more strokes of the oars ran us close in beneath the pendent
boughs, and the next minute the carpenter caught hold of one of the
overhanging branches and kept the boat there, while Pete descended from
where he had climbed, to lower himself into the boat and sit down
shivering and dripping.

"Thought he'd got me, sir," he said, looking white.  "I dived down,
though, and only come up once, but dove again so as to come up under the
trees; and then I found a place where I could pull myself up.  It was
precious hard, though.  I kep' 'specting one of 'em would pull me back,
till I was up yonder; and it arn't safe there."

"Why not?"  I said.

"There's great monkeys yonder, and the biggest snake I ever see, Master
Nat."

"But did you not see the boat?  Didn't you see us hunting for you?" said
my uncle angrily.

"No, sir; I had all I could do to swim to one of the trees, diving down
so as the 'gators shouldn't see me; and when I did get up into the tree,
you'd gone back down the river, so that I couldn't see nothing of you."

"But why didn't you shout, Pete?" said the carpenter.  "Everyone's been
afraid you was drowned."

"Who was going to shout when there was a great snake curled up in knots
like a ship's fender right over your head?  Think I wanted to wake him
up?  Then there was two great monkeys."

"Great monkeys!" said my uncle.  "Pray, how big were they?"

"Dunno, sir, but they looked a tidy size, and whenever I moved they
begun to make faces and call me names."

"What did they call you, Pete?"  I said.

"I dunno, Master Nat.  You see, it was all furren, and I couldn't
understand it; but one of 'em was horrid howdacious: he ran along a
bough till he was right over my head, and then he took hold with his
tail and swung himself to and fro and chattered, and said he'd drop on
my head if I dared to move."

"Are you sure he said that, Pete?" said my uncle drily.

"Well, sir, I can't be quite sure, because I couldn't understand him;
but it seemed something like that."

"Yes, but I'm afraid there was a good deal of imagination in it, Pete,
and that you have bad eyes."

"Oh, no, sir," said Pete; "my eyes are all right."

"They cannot be," said my uncle; "they must magnify terribly.  Now then,
take off your wet clothes, wring them out, and hang them up in the sun,
while we look after this huge serpent and the gigantic monkeys.  Draw
the boat along by the boughs, Cross, till we can look through that
opening.  Be ready with your gun, Nat.  Put in a couple of those
swanshot cartridges.  You shall do the shooting."

I hurriedly changed the charges in my double gun and sat in my place,
looking up eagerly, trying to pierce the green twilight and tangle of
crossing boughs, while Pete slowly slipped off his dripping shirt and
trousers, watching me the while.

"See anything yet?" said my uncle, as he helped Cross to push the boat
along, pulling the boughs aside, which forced him to lower the sail and
unship the mast.

"No, uncle; the boughs are too thick--yes--yes, I can see a monkey
hanging by his tail."

"A six-footer?  Bring him down, then.  We must have his skin."

"Six-footer?  No!"  I said.  "It's about as big as a fat baby."

"I thought so," said my uncle.  "Never mind the poor little thing;
look-out for the monstrous snake.  I daresay it's one of the anacondas
crept up out of the river.  See it?"

"No, uncle; but there might be a dozen up there."

"Keep on looking.  You must see it if it's as big as Pete here says.
Was it close to the trunk, my lad?"

"Not very, sir; it was just out a little way, where the boughs spread
out."

"I see it!"  I cried.  "Keep the boat quite still.  It's curled up all
in a knot."

"A hundred feet long?" said my uncle, laughing.

"Not quite, uncle."

"Well, fifty?"

"I don't think so, uncle."

"Five-and-twenty, then?"

"Oh, no," I said; "it's rather hard to tell, because of the way she
folds double about; but I should think it's twelve feet long."

"I thought so," said my uncle.  "Pete, you'll have to wear diminishing
glasses."

"That aren't the one, sir," said Pete gruffly.

"Shall I shoot, uncle?"

"No; we don't want the skin, and it would be a very unpleasant task to
take it off.  Push off, Cross, and let's go up the stream.  I want to
get to clearer parts, where we can land and make some excursions."

Pete hung his head when I looked at him, but he said no more, and a
couple of hours after, with his clothes thoroughly dry, he was helping
to navigate the boat, rowing, poling, and managing the sail till night
fell, when we once more moored to a great tree trunk, as we had made a
practice all the way up, and slept in safety on board, with the strange
noises of the forest all around.



CHAPTER SEVEN.

SNAKES AND PUMAS.

It was a relief at last, after many days of hard work, sailing and
rowing and poling over the shallows by means of the light bamboos we cut
upon the banks, to find that we were well above the dense, jungle-like
forest where, save in places, landing was impossible.  Instead of
creeping along between the two high walls of verdure, the river ran
clear, shallow, and sparkling, among gravelly beds and rocks; while,
though the growth was abundant on banks, there were plenty of open
places full of sunshine and shadow, where flowers bloomed and birds far
brighter in colour flitted from shrub to shrub, or darted in flocks
among the trees.  Mountains rose up in the distance, and every now and
then we had glorious peeps of the valleys, which near at hand were of
the richest golden-green, but in the distance gradually grew from
amethyst into the purest blue.

"At last!" cried Uncle Dick, for we had reached the outskirts of the
land he sought--one with the natural roads necessary; for by careful
management we contrived to penetrate some distance up the various
streams which came down from the mountains to join the main river, and
when we had forced the boat up a little stream till it was aground, we
there camped and made expeditions on foot in all directions, coming back
to the boat with our treasures.

It was difficult to decide which stream to try, and one in particular
whose mouth we passed several times in our journeys to and fro attracted
me--I could not tell why--and I suggested more than once that we should
go up it; but Uncle Dick shook his head.

"It is the least likely, Nat," he said on one occasion, and when, after
several expeditions, I proposed it again, because most of those we tried
evidently bore to the north, while this had a southward tendency, he
refused tetchily.

"Can't you see how covered it is with water-weed and tangled growth?  It
would be impossible to go up there without a small canoe."

So I said no more, but contented myself with his choice.

For of treasures we had plenty, the wild mountain valleys swarming with
beautifully plumaged birds, especially with those tiny little objects
which were actually less than some of the butterflies and moths.

These humming-birds we generally shot with sand, sometimes merely with
the wad of the cartridge, and even at times brought them down by the
concussion caused by firing with powder only, when very near.

I was never tired of examining these little gems of the bird world, and
wondering at their excessive beauty in their dazzling hues, exactly like
those of the precious stones from which they are named--ruby, emerald,
topaz, sapphire, amethyst, and the like.

"It caps me," Pete used to say, as he stared with open mouth when I
carefully skinned the tiny creatures to preserve them.

Then came the day when, after a long tramp along with Pete, we found
ourselves at the end of a narrow valley, with apparently no farther
progress to be made.

We had started, after an early breakfast in the boat, and left my uncle
there to finish off the drying of some skins ready for packing in a
light case of split bamboo which the carpenter had made; and with one
gun over my shoulder, a botanist's collecting-box for choice birds, and
Pete following with another gun and a net for large birds slung over his
shoulder, we had tramped on for hours, thinking nothing of the heat and
the sun-rays which flashed off the surface of the clear shallow stream
we were following, for the air came down fresh and invigorating from the
mountains.

We had been fairly successful, for I had shot four rare humming-birds;
but so far we had seen no specimens of the gorgeous quetzal, and it was
for these that our eyes wandered whenever we reached a patch of
woodland, but only to startle macaws, parroquets, or the
clumsy-looking--but really light and active--big-billed toucans, which
made Pete shake his head.

"They're all very well, with their orange and red throats, or their pale
primrose or white, Master Nat; but I don't see no good in birds having
great bills like that."

We had a bit of an adventure, too, that was rather startling, as we
slowly climbed higher in tracking the course of the little stream
towards its source in the mountain.  As we toiled on where the rocks
rose like walls on either side, and the ground was stony and bare, the
rugged glittering in the sunshine, Pete had got on a few yards ahead
through my having paused to transfer a gorgeous golden-green beetle to
our collecting-box.

I was just thinking that the absence of grass or flowers was probably
due to the fact that the flooded stream must at times run all over where
we were walking, the narrow valley looking quite like the bed of a river
right up to the rocks on either side, when Pete shouted to me--

"Come and look, Master Nat.  What's this here?  Want to take it?"

I looked, and then fired the quickest shot I ever discharged in my life.
I hardly know how I managed it; but one moment I was carrying my gun
over my shoulder, the next I had let the barrels fall into my left hand
and fired.

Pete leapt off the ground, uttering a yell which would have made anyone
who could have looked on imagine that I had shot him.  He dropped the
gun he carried and turned round to face me.

"What did you do that for, Master Nat?" he cried.

"For that," I said, pointing, and then raising my piece to my shoulder,
I fired again at something writhing and twining among the loose stones.

"Thought you meant to shoot me, sir," said Pete, picking up the gun and
covering a dint he had made in the stock, as he stared down at the
object that was now dying fast.  "Well, it's of no good now.  You've
reg'larly spoiled it."

"Do you know what that is?"  I said, with my heart beating fast.

"Course I do," he said with a laugh.  "Snake."

"Yes, the most deadly snake out here.  If I had waited till you touched
it you would have been stung; and that generally means death."

"My word!" said Pete, shrinking away.  "Think of it, sir!  Shouldn't
have liked that, Master Nat.  What snake is it?"

"A rattlesnake."

"I didn't hear him rattle.  But I was just going to lay hold of him
behind his ears and pick him up."

"And yet uncle told you to beware of poisonous snakes."

"Ah! so he did, sir; but I wasn't thinking about what he said then.  So
that's his rattle at the end of his tail, with a sting in it."

"Nonsense!"  I cried.  "Rattlesnakes do not sting."

"Hark at him!" cried Pete, addressing nobody.  Then to me--

"Why, you said just now they did."

"I meant bite."

"But wapses have their stings in their tails."

"But rattlesnakes do not," I said.  "Look here."

I drew the hunting knife I carried, and with one chop took off the
dangerous reptile's head.  Then picking it up I opened the jaws and
showed him the two keen, hollow, poisonous fangs which rose erect when
the jaws gaped.

"Seem too little to do any harm, Master Nat," said Pete, rubbing his
head.  "Well, I shall know one of them gentlemen another time.--Oh,
don't chuck it away!" he cried.  "I should like to put that head in a
box and save it."

"Too late, Pete," I said, for I had just sent the head flying into the
rippling stream; and after reloading we went on again till it seemed as
if we were quite shut in.

For right in front was a towering rock, quite perpendicular above a low
archway, at whose foot the stream rushed gurgling out, while the sides
of the narrow ravine in which we were rose up like a wall.

"We shall have to go back, Pete, I suppose," I said, as I looked upon
either side.

"I wouldn't, sir," he replied; "it's early yet."

"But we couldn't climb up there."

"Oh, yes, we could, sir, if we took it a bit at a time."

Pete was right.  I had looked at the task all at once, but by taking it
a bit at a time we slowly climbed up and up till we reached to where
there was a gentle slope dotted with patches of woodland, and looking
more beautiful than the part we had travelled over that day.

It was just as we had drawn ourselves up on to the gentle slope which
spread away evidently for miles, that Pete laid his hand upon my arm and
pointed away to the left.

"Look!" he whispered; "thing like a great cat.  There she goes."

But I did not look, for I had caught sight of a couple of birds gliding
through the air as if they were finishing their flight and about to
alight.

"Look there!"  I panted excitedly, as I watched for the place where the
birds would pitch, which proved to be out of sight, beyond a clump of
trees.

"This way, Master Nat," whispered Pete.

"No, no; this way," I said hoarsely.  And I hurried forward, having to
get over about a hundred yards before I could reach the patch behind
which the birds had disappeared.

My heart beat faster with excitement as well as exertion as I checked my
pace on reaching the trees and began to creep softly along in their
shelter, till all at once there was a harsh scream, followed by a dozen
more, as a little flock of lovely green parroquets took flight, and Pete
stopped short for me to fire.

But I did not; I only kept on, wondering whether the objects of my
search would take fright.

They did the next moment, and I fired at what seemed like a couple of
whirring patches of orange, one of which to my great joy fell, while the
other went right away in a straight line, showing that it had not been
touched.

"That's got him!" cried Pete excitedly.  And he ran forward to pick up
the bird, while I began to reload, but stopped in astonishment, for from
some bushes away to the left, in a series of bounds, a magnificent puma
sprang into sight, and seemed to be racing Pete so as to get first to
the fallen bird.

Pete was nearest, and would have been there first, but he suddenly
caught sight of the great active cat and stopped short.

This had the effect of making the puma stop short too, and stand lashing
its tail and staring at Pete as if undecided what to do.

I ought to have behaved differently, but I was as much taken by surprise
as Pete, and I, too, stood staring instead of reloading my gun, while it
never once occurred to the lad that he had one already charged in his
hand.

Suddenly, to my astonishment, he snatched off his straw hat.

"Shoo!" he cried, and sent it skimming through the air at the puma.

The effect was all he desired, for the beautiful animal sprang round and
bounded away towards the nearest patch of forest, Pete after him till he
reached his hat, which he picked up in triumph and stuck on his head
again, grinning as he returned.

"That's the way to scare that sort, Master Nat," he cried.  And he
reached me again just as I stooped to pick up the fallen bird.

"Cock of the Rocks, Pete," I cried triumphantly, too much excited to
think about the puma.

"Is he, sir?" said Pete.  "Well, he ran away like a hen."

"No, no!  I mean this bird.  Isn't it a beauty?"

"He just is, sir.  Lives on oranges, I s'pose, to make him that colour."

"I don't know what it lived on," I said as I regularly gloated over the
lovely bird with its orange plumage and soft wheel-like crest of
feathers from beak to nape.  "This must go in your net, Pete; but you
must carry it very carefully."

"I will, Master Nat.  Going back now?"

"Back?  No," I cried.  "We must follow up that other one.  I saw which
way it flew.  Uncle will be in ecstasies at our having found a place
where they come."

"Will he, sir?  Thought it was golden-green birds with long tails.
Quizzals.  That one's got hardly any tail at all."

"He wants these too," I said, closing the breech of my gun.  "Come
along."

"But how about that there big cat, sir?  He's gone down that way."

"We must fire at it if it comes near again, or you must throw your hat,"
I said, laughing.

"All right, sir, you know.  Only if he or she do turn savage, it might
be awkward."

"I don't think they're dangerous animals, Pete," I said; "and we must
have that other bird, and we may put up more.  Here, I'll go first."

"Nay, play fair, Master Nat," said Pete; "let's go side by side."

"Yes, but a little way apart.  Open out about thirty feet, and then
let's go forward slowly.  I think we shall find it among those trees
yonder."

"The big cat, sir?" said Pete.

"No, no!"  I cried; "the other bird, the cock of the rocks.  Now then,
forward."

A little flock of brightly-coloured finches flew up before we had gone a
hundred yards, but I was so excited by the prospect of getting my
prize's mate that these seemed of no account, and we went on, my
intention being to fire at the cock of the rocks, and nothing else,
unless the golden plumage of a quetzal flashed into sight.

In another five minutes we had forgotten all about the puma, for we were
leaving the trees where it had disappeared away to our left, and we went
on and on, starting birds again and again, till we had passed over a
quarter of a mile and were pushing on amongst open clumps of bushes with
patches of woodland here and there.

Pete was abreast of me with the other gun, and I was sweeping the ground
before me in search of the orange plumage of the bird I sought, which
might spring up at any time, when I had to pass round a pile of rugged
stones half covered with herbage.

"Sort of place for snakes to bask," I said to myself, as I gave it a
little wider berth, when all at once, to my surprise, up rose with a
whirr not the bird I sought, but a little flock of seven or eight, and
as I raised my gun to fire at the group of whizzing orange--_Thud_!

Something heavy had bounded from the pile of stone I had passed, to
alight full upon my shoulders.

_Bang, bang_! went both barrels of my gun, and the next moment I was
down, spread-eagle fashion, on my face, conscious of the fact that what
was probably the puma's mate had bounded right upon me as I stooped
forward to fire, and as I heard Pete utter a yell of horror, the beast's
muzzle was pressed down on the back of my neck, and its hot breath
stirred the roots of my hair.



CHAPTER EIGHT.

A LUCKY ESCAPE.

For a few minutes, or a few moments, I cannot tell which, I lay there
half stunned.

Then I began to think that I should be torn to pieces and devoured, and
my next vivid thought took the form of a question--Will it hurt much?

This set me wondering whether I was already badly injured, and as I had
read that people who are seriously hurt do not feel pain at the time, I
took it for granted that I was in a very sad state.  But all the same I
did not feel torn by the creature's claws, nor yet as if its teeth had
been driven into the back of my neck, though I supposed that they had
been.  What I did feel was that the puma was heavy, soft, and very hot.

"Then I can't be hurt," I reasoned with myself at last, "or I should
feel the pain now," and with this I began to think it was time to do
something; but I hesitated about beginning, for I could make no use of
my discharged gun.

There was my knife, though, if I could get it out from its sheath in my
belt, and feeling that, if it were to come to a struggle, my empty hands
would be no match for the puma's teeth and claws, I began to steal my
fingers towards my belt.

I stopped directly, though, for at the first movement there was a deep
shuddering growl at the nape of my neck, and it seemed to run down my
spine and out at the tips of my fingers and toes.  It was just as if the
puma were saying--

"You just lie still, or I'll bite."

That must have been the meaning, for I lay quite still with the great
heat drops tickling my face and running in the roots of my hair, while
the puma crouched upon my back so that I could feel its shape exactly.

"What can I do?"  I said to myself, and then I remembered the old story
about the traveller and the bear--how he shammed death, and the bear
left him.  That was what I felt that I must do, and I lay perfectly
still in the hope that the puma would leave me, though it seemed quite
to approve of its couch, and lay close, breathing steadily, so that I
felt the rise and fall of its breast against my back.

Just when I was beginning to feel faint with the heat and excitement, a
thrill ran through me, for from somewhere close at hand, but invisible
to me in the position I occupied, I heard Pete's voice--

"Oh, Master Nat, Master Nat!  Are you killed?"

"No," I cried; but I said no more, for there was a savage growl, a snap,
and I felt myself seized at the back of the neck and shaken, but the
puma had only seized the collar of my loose jacket, so that I was unhurt
still.

"What shall I do, Master Nat?" cried Pete.

The puma loosed its hold of the collar of my jacket, and I felt it raise
its head as if looking in the direction of Pete, and it growled fiercely
again.

"Shoot, Pete, shoot!"  I cried, feeling that at all risks I must speak.

The puma's teeth gripped my collar again, and I could fell its claws
glide out of their sheaths like a cat's and press upon my shoulders,
giving me a warning of what the beast could do.

But its attention was taken off directly by Pete's voice, and it raised
its head again and growled at him as if daring him to approach and rob
it of its prey.

For Pete cried in a despairing tone--

"I dursn't shoot, Master Nat, I dursn't shoot.  I aren't clever with a
gun, and I should hit you."

I knew this was quite true, and that under the circumstances I dared not
have fired, so I lay perfectly still, trying to think out what to do,
for the animal seemed determined not to leave me, and I began to grow
giddy as well as faint.

Then I started, for there was a rustling of the grass and a sharp crack,
as if Pete had trodden upon a dead twig.

The puma growled again furiously, and then as I started, seized my
collar tight in its teeth and shook me, for the sharp report of the gun
Pete carried rang out, followed by that of a second barrel, when I heard
the loud whirr of wings, and felt sure that three or four more specimens
of the lovely orange-tinted birds I sought had been scared into flight.

But the firing in the air had not scared the puma, which lowered its
head again and seized my collar, clinging tightly, and working its claws
in and out of their sheaths.

"It's no good, Master Nat," cried Pete; "it don't frighten him a bit.
Shall I run back and tell the doctor?"

"No," I said softly, so as not to irritate the puma; "you could not get
back till after dark, and I should be dead before then."

"What shall I do then, Master Nat?  What shall I do?  I want to save
you, but I'm such a coward.  I don't care, though; he shall have my
knife into him if I die for it!  Ah, I know!" he cried exultingly,
"Whoo--hoo--oo--oo--oo!"

To my astonishment and delight, just as I was nearly fainting, the puma
gave a furious growl and a tremendous bound, leaving me free, and as I
struggled to my feet, panting and exhausted, I caught sight of Pete
twenty yards away in the act of picking up his straw hat, with which he
returned to me, grinning with delight.

"That done it," he cried.  "He couldn't understand it a bit, I sent my
old hat skimming at him, and I say, he did cut away.  I say, you aren't
much hurt, are you, sir?"

"N-no," I said hesitatingly, "I think not.  Look at my neck and
shoulder.  See if they bleed."

"Yes," cried Pete excitedly, "he's got hold of you at the back o' the
neck and ragged you.  Where's your hankychy?"

I turned deathly sick with horror as I drew out my handkerchief and gave
it to him; and then I felt ashamed of myself, for Pete burst out
laughing.

"He aren't touched your neck, Master Nat," he cried, "on'y got hold of
the collar of your jacket and chawed it a bit.  I say, who'd ha' thought
an old straw hat was better than a gun!"

"Can we get some water?"  I said hoarsely.

"Yes, there's some trickles down into a bit of a pool yonder, where I
found my hat.  Come on."

A few minutes later I was bathing my hands and face, after we had lain
down and drunk heartily of the sweet, cool, clear water, to rise up
refreshed, and as the puma had disappeared, feeling as if the danger
through which we had passed was very far away.

"How d'yer feel now, Master Nat?" asked Pete.

"Oh, better; much better," I said quickly.

"Good job he didn't begin eating of you, ain't it, sir?"

"Yes, Pete, a very good job," I said heartily.

"Then let's go on and shoot some more of them yaller birds."

I shook my head as I held out one hand, which was trembling.

"I don't think I could hit a bird now, Pete, after that upset."

"Oh, yes, you could, sir," he cried.  "Let's go on; and I say, if you
see my gentleman again, you pepper him, and he won't come near us any
more."

"I don't know, Pete," I said thoughtfully; "the pain might make it more
vicious.  Let's get back to the boat.  I feel as if I've done quite
enough for one day."

I finished reloading my gun as I spoke, so as to be ready for
emergencies, and turned to retrace our steps to the rocky descent to the
stream, when Pete touched my arm.

"Coming back here to drink," he whispered.

I forgot all about the shock and nervousness the next moment, as I saw
the flutter of approaching wings, and directly after my gun rang out
with two reports, while as the smoke floated away, Pete triumphantly ran
to where a couple of the orange birds had fallen.

"I say, Master Nat," he said, "you can shoot.  Wish I could do that.
You seem just to hold the gun up and it's done.  I knew you could.  They
are beauties.  Something better worth taking back than we had before."

The birds' plumage was carefully smoothed, and without further adventure
we reached the top of the vast rocky wall and descended to the stream,
where we had another refreshing draught close to the mouth of the
natural arch through which the water flowed, and then tramped back to
the boat, reaching it at sundown, where my uncle was, as I had said, in
ecstasies with the beautiful birds we had brought.

I was as pleased, but just then I thought more of the pleasant
roast-bird supper and the coffee that awaited us, and paid more
attention to these than anything else.

Over the supper, though, I related our experience with the pumas, and my
uncle looked serious.

"You got off well, Nat," he said.  "They are not dangerous beasts,
though, unless attacked and hurt.  I'd give them as wide a berth in
future as I could.  I'm thankful that you had such an escape."



CHAPTER NINE.

THROUGH THE CAVERN.

My uncle accompanied me in my next and several other visits to the upper
valley, with the result that we obtained as many specimens of the
beautiful orange birds as we required, and in addition several rare
kinds of humming-birds; but strangely enough, anxious as I was that my
uncle should see one of the pumas they were never encountered once.

The whole of the upper valley was very lovely, and the air, from its
being so high up among the mountains, deliciously cool.

"It seems a pity," my uncle said, "that nobody lives here."  For as far
as we could make out in our many journeys, human beings had never
penetrated its solitudes.

"Yes," I said, on one of these occasions, "it is a glorious place,
uncle, and anyone might make it a lovely garden with hardly any trouble;
but I shouldn't like to live here after all."

"Why?" he said.  "You seem very hard to please."

"The place isn't perfect, uncle," I said.

"No place is, but I don't see much to find fault with.  Oh, you mean
that we can find no quetzals."

"No, I did not," I said.  "I meant we find too many rattlesnakes."

"Ah, yes, they are a nuisance, Nat; but they always get out of our way
if they can, and so long as they don't bite us we need not complain.
Well, we have pretty well explored this valley, and it is time we tried
another.  We must get farther to the south."

"Why not strike off, then, from the top of the great cliff above the
arch, and try and find where the stream dives down?"

"What!" he said; "you don't think, then, that the stream rises entirely
there?"

"No," I said; "I fancy it dives underground when it reaches a mountain,
and comes out where we saw."

"Quite likely," he said, jumping at the idea.  "We'll try, for we have
had some beautiful specimens from the woodlands on the banks of that
stream.  Perhaps we may find my golden-green trogons up there after all,
for I feel sure that there are some to be found up among the head-waters
of the river."

The next day preparations were made for our expedition, and as the
country we were in seemed to be so completely uninhabited from its
unsuitability for agricultural purposes, and the little attraction it
had for hunters other than such as we, there was no occasion to mind
leaving the boat.

The carpenter and Pete were in high glee at the news that they were to
accompany us, and in the intervals of packing up, their delight was
expressed by furtive punches and slaps delivered when one or the other
was not looking.

"I am glad, Mr Nat," Bill Cross said to me when we were alone for a few
minutes overnight.  "I'm not grumbling, sir, and I like making cases and
cooking and washing, but I do feel sometimes as if I'd give anything to
be able to shoulder a gun and come along with you gents, shooting and
hunting for curiosities."

"Well, you'll have a fine chance now, Bill," I said.

"Yes, sir, and it'll just be a treat; for I haven't had much of the fun
so far, have I?"

"Fun?"  I said.

"Yes, sir; it's fun to a chap like me who when he goes to sleep of a
night it's with the feeling that there's a day's work done."

"So it is with all of us," I said.  "I work very hard; so does my
uncle."

"Yes, sir; but don't you see that what's work to you as can go and do is
seems like play to me as is obliged to stay in camp--I mean with the
boat.  But as I was going to say, after a night's rest when one wakes up
it's always to begin another day's work!  But there, don't you think I'm
grumbling, sir, because I arn't; for I've never been so happy in my life
before as since I've been out here with you and the doctor.  What time
do we start to-morrow?"

"Breakfast before daylight, and start as soon as we can see," I replied.

"Right, sir; I'll be ready."

There was so little novelty in a fresh trip to me then, that I dropped
asleep as soon as I lay down in the tent under a big tree ashore, and it
seemed like the next minute when the carpenter in his gruff voice called
to us that breakfast was nigh ready.

I looked up, to see his face by the lanthorn he had brought alight, as
he hung it from a hook on the tent-pole; and then after making sure that
my uncle was awake, I hurried out into the darkness, where Pete was busy
frizzling bacon over the glowing embers, ran down into the fresh, cool
water for my bath, and came out with my blood seeming to dance through
my veins.

Our breakfast was soon dispatched, and before the sun rose the tent had
been fastened up, our guns and satchels shouldered and swung, and in
addition Cross carried a coil of rope and the lanthorn, now out and
freshly trimmed.

"Be useful," he said, with a sage nod of the head.  "S'pose we shall be
out all night."

The next minute he and Pete shouldered the extra guns and the packs they
were to carry in case our trip lasted over more than a couple of days;
and we set off in single file steadily up the side of the stream between
the walls of rock, and sometimes wading across it to find better ground.
Twice over we waded in the middle of the water, where it was sandy, and
found it nowhere over our knees.

In due time we reached the spot where the walls of the gorge had drawn
together and the end was closed by the perpendicular mountain at whose
foot was the little natural arch out of which the water came gurgling
swiftly.  Here my uncle stopped for the load-bearers to have a short
rest before we began to climb upward to Puma Vale, as I had dubbed it.

Pete and Cross used their loads as seats, and the latter, who had not
seen the place before, sat looking about attentively, while my uncle
took out his little double-glass and examined the towering mountain for
signs of birds upon the ledges or trees which clung to the sides.

The carpenter turned to me and nodded.

"Strange pretty place, Mr Nat," he cried, "and it's just like Pete said
it was.  Going up yonder to try and find the river again farther on,
aren't we?"

"Yes, and I think we shall find it."

"Wouldn't it be better to keep on up it?  Should be sure of it then."

"But don't you see that we can go no farther?"  I said wonderingly.

"No, sir, I don't.  Water's not above eighteen inches deep, and it's
nice sandy bottom."

"But it nearly touches the top of the arch," I said.

"Just there it do, sir, but that's only the doorway; it may be ever so
high inside.  P'raps I'm wrong, though.  You've tried it, then?"

"What, tried to get under that horrible dark arch?  Oh, no!"

"Why not?" said the man coolly.  "I don't see nothing horrid.  Dessay
it'll be dark, but we've a lanthorn."

"But we should have to wade, and in the darkness we might go down some
horrible hole."

Cross shook his head.

"Nay," he said; "you might do that if the water was running the other
way downward, but we should have to go up stream with the water coming
to us.  We shouldn't find any holes; what we should find more likely
would be waterfalls, and have to climb up 'em."

"What's that?" cried my uncle, who had caught part of what was said, and
he was told the rest.

"Let's have a look, Nat," he said, and slipping off our boots and
stockings we waded on over the soft sand to where the water came rushing
out through the arch, stooping down and peering in as we listened to the
gurgling and whispering of the water.

"Shall we have the lanthorn, and I'll stoop down and see if the roof
gets higher farther in?"  I said.

"Would you mind doing it?" said my uncle.

"I don't think I should like it much," I said; "but I'll try."

"Let me go, Master Nat, sir," said Pete eagerly; "I won't mind."

"Sounds as if there's plenty of room inside, sir," said Cross, who had
followed our example and waded in.

"Let's see," said my uncle, stooping down, after cocking his gun.  Then
holding it as if it were a pistol, he reached in as far as he could and
fired both barrels.

The reports sounded dull and smothered, and as we listened my uncle
said:

"It is only a narrow passage, I think."

Then he was silent, for the reports were repeated ten times as loudly,
and went on reverberating again and again, from farther and farther
away, till they gradually grew indistinct and strange, for there was a
strange dull roar growing louder and louder till the echoes were
drowned, while the roar seemed to come on and on, till without
hesitation on anyone's part we turned and ran splashing out of the
stream to the shore, to escape from a dark rushing cloud which came
streaming out of the mouth of the cave with screams, hisses, and
whisperings, out and away down the narrow ravine till it seemed to be
filled with birds and bats, while a strange black-beetly odour assailed
our nostrils.

"No doubt about there being plenty of room, lads," said my uncle, as he
laughed at our scared faces, for the sudden rush out was startling.

"Is them owls, sir?" said the carpenter, staring.

"No, no," replied my uncle; "they are something of the goat-sucker
tribe--night-birds which build in caves; but a good half of what we see
are bats."

"Yes, I can see they're bats, sir, and the biggest I ever did see.
Well, they won't hurt us, sir?"

"No, but they're terribly afraid we shall hurt them," said my uncle.
"Well, Nat, what do you say?  Shall we explore the underground river?"

I felt as if I should like to say, "No, I would rather not," but the
pride within me made me take the other view of the matter.

"Yes," I said, "of course," and the sense of unwillingness was forgotten
in the desire to laugh at the look of horror in Pete's face as he stared
appealingly from one to the other.

"You won't mind, Cross?" said my uncle.

"No, sir; I should like it," replied the man.

"Light the lanthorn."

"Shall we take our loads with us, uncle?"  I said.

"Certainly.  If the way through is short we shall want them at the other
side.  If it is long we shall want some refreshments on the way."

"But suppose--" I began, and then I stopped.

"Suppose what?" said my uncle.

"Suppose the river does not pass through the mountain, but comes from
deep down somewhere."

"The more interesting the discovery of its hidden source, my lad.  But
that is not likely.  Look at the rock.  What is it--granite or gneiss?"

"No," I said; "limestone."

"Well, you ought to know how limestone ridges are honeycombed with
water-formed caverns.  We have several examples at home.  If this
subterranean river came bubbling up from somewhere in the interior and
the rock were granite, I should expect it to be hot."

"And it's quite cold, sir," said Cross.

"Oh, no, just pleasantly cool.  I don't think there's a doubt about its
having its source higher up in the mountains; but whether it has dived
down for a few hundred yards or a few miles we can only know by
exploring."

"Well, Cross," I said to the carpenter, "will this be fun enough for
you?"

"Splendid, sir," said the man enthusiastically.  "I never had a treat
like this."

"Master Nat," whispered Pete, "am I to come too?"

"Of course," I said.  "Tuck up your trousers as high as you can."

"But suppose we have to swim, sir?"

"Look here, Pete," I said, "you don't want to come."

"No, sir.  Can't help it, sir, but I never could a-bear the dark."

"Then I'll ask my uncle to let you stop behind."

"What!" cried the poor fellow fiercely, "leave me behind, and you go?
That you just won't, sir.  I'd go if it was twice as dark."

I saw him set his teeth, and then, as my uncle gave the word, he climbed
up to a verdant cleft with Cross to cut four stout bamboos about six
feet long to act as walking-staves.

"We must always be ready to feel our way and try the depth," said Uncle
Dick; "and avoid any holes.  If it grows deeper as we go on and there is
no bare rock at the sides, of course we must return."

A few minutes later our guns were slung across our backs, the loads
taken up, and, each armed with a staff, we made our start--Cross, as he
held the lanthorn, asking leave to lead the way.

"We shan't be able to do it, Master Nat," whispered Pete, as we followed
in turn, Pete last, for it was very hard work, the barrels of our guns
scraping again and again against the roof during the first twenty yards
or so; but Pete had hardly uttered the above words before I saw Cross
raise the lanthorn higher.  Then my uncle began to walk erect, and
directly after I found on raising my staff that I could not touch the
roof, while a sharp whistle uttered by our lanthorn-bearer was echoed
from far on high.

"Plenty of room upwards, sir," cried Cross.

"Yes," said my uncle.

"Ugh! what a horrid place, Master Nat!" whispered Pete, who kept as
close to me as he could.  "Do mind, sir."

"Mind what?"  I said.

"The holes.  If you step into one of them there's no knowing how deep
they are.  They must be just like wells."

"How do you know?"  I said gruffly; and he was silent, giving me time to
look to right and left and forward, as far as the light of the lanthorn
would allow.

There was not much to see--only a faint halo of light, with reflections
sometimes from dripping rocks; but it seemed that there was no shore to
the river on either side such as would afford footing, while as far as I
could make out the stream was about the same width as it was outside.

There was the dancing light on ahead, playing strangely on the surface
of the gliding waters, and all around black darkness, while the vast
cavern in which we were, seemed to be filled with strange sounds,
splashings, ripplings, whisperings, and their echoes.

"Hear that, Master Nat?" said Pete, getting close beside me and grasping
my arm.

"Of course I can," I said pettishly, for it was bad enough to suffer
from one's own feelings, without being troubled at such a time by
others.

"But--oh, there it goes again," he whispered.

"What goes again?"  I said.

"That, sir.  I dunno what it is, but there seems to be lots of 'em.
Bill Cross stirs 'em up with the stick and the light, and they swims off
both sides, and then you can hear 'em splashing with their tails as they
come back again."

"Nonsense!"  I said.  "That's all imagination."

"Oh, no, it aren't, sir," he whispered.  "I say, what did you say was
the name of them big snakes that lives part of their time in the water?"

"Anacondas."

"That's them, sir.  We've got all amongst 'em here, and they'll be
having one of us directly."

"Pooh!  There's nothing alive in this dark place," I said scornfully.

"What!  Why, wasn't it alive with birds and bats?"

"Oh, yes, but I don't believe there's a fish in these dark waters."

"Fish!  Oh, I don't mind fish, sir, as long as they aren't sharks.  It's
them conders I can't bear.  It wouldn't so much matter if we were in the
dark, but we've brought a light to show 'em where we are."

"There are no snakes here," I said angrily.

"It's all very well for you to say so, Master Nat," he replied; "but you
just listen.  There!  Hear that?"

"Yes, the splash against the side of the wave we make in wading."

Pete was about to say something more, but just then my uncle turned his
head.

"Use your bamboo well, Nat," he said, "in case of there being any
cracks; but the bottom seems very level, and the depth keeps about the
same.  Nice and cool here.  Keep close up.  What's that, Cross?"

"Only a stone standing right up, sir; water washes round it.  It's best
to keep right in the middle, I think."

"You must judge about that," said my uncle.  "Go on."

"How far do you think we've come, sir, now?"

"About a quarter of a mile, I should say."

"That's what I thought, sir," said the carpenter, and he waded steadily
on, with us following.

After a time it grew very monotonous, but we persevered, finding the
underground river sometimes a little deeper, then shallower, so that the
water rippled just above our ankles, while we knew at times that the
cavern was wide and high, at others that it closed in on either side,
and twice over the roof was so close that I could touch it with my
stick.

The times when it opened out were plain enough, for our splashings or
voices echoed and went whispering far away.  But otherwise the journey
was very tame, and as the feeling of awe died away, the journey seemed
uncommonly free from danger, for I felt it was absurd to imagine the
waters to be peopled with strange creatures.

We had been wading on for quite a couple of hours, when the water began
to grow more sluggish, and to flow very quietly, rising, too, higher and
higher, till it was above our waists, and the light reflected from the
surface showed that it was very smooth.

"Keep on, sir?" said Cross.

"Yes," said my uncle.  "Keep on till it nearly touches your chin.  Then
we'll turn back."

Pete uttered a low groan, but followed in a despairing way, while we
went on for another quarter of an hour, with the water deeper and
deeper, and at last, to our great delight, my uncle said:

"There, the water is rippling up in my beard, so it is time to go back."

"Hah!" ejaculated Pete, and then he groaned, for Cross said:

"Not so deep now as it was ten minutes ago, sir."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes, sir.  I know by my stick.  I keep my hand so that it touches the
water, and I've had to move it twice in the last five minutes.  It's not
so deep now by three inches."

"Go on, then," said my uncle, and we followed, to find the water getting
shallower rapidly now.  Ten minutes later it was below my waist, and in
another ten minutes not above mid-thigh; but it had evidently widened
out, for our voices seemed to go off far away into the distance, and my
uncle suddenly said:

"Why, Nat, the river must have widened out into a regular lake.  How
shall we find the place where it narrows again?"

"Foller that there sound, sir, I think," said Cross.

"What sound?"  I said.

"That, sir; listen.  I can hear where it seems to be rushing in ever so
far away."

"Yes, I can hear it now," I said.

"Forward, then," said my uncle, and with the water once more but little
above our knees we waded steadily on after the light which Cross bore
breast-high.

"Cheer up, Pete," I said; "we must be getting on now.  Why, if it came
to the worst we could turn back."

"Never find the way, sir," he said bitterly, and then he uttered a yell,
closely following upon a sharp ejaculation from the carpenter, who
suddenly placed his foot in some cavity of the smooth floor, fell
forward with an echoing splash, and the next moment the lanthorn
disappeared beneath the gleaming surface, leaving us in utter darkness.

_Wash, wash, ripple, ripple_ went the water, and the cries whispered
away as fading echoes, and then Pete's voice rose in a piteous wail.

"I knowed it, I knowed it," he said.  "We shall never see the light
again.  Oh, help, Master Nat, help!  Here's one of them water-conders
got me by the leg to pull me down."

A cry that went to my heart and sent a shudder through every nerve, for
the darkness seemed so thick that it might be felt.



CHAPTER TEN.

INTO THE SUNLIGHT AGAIN.

There was a loud splashing noise, another cry, and the gurgling made by
someone being dragged under water; and then, just as I felt that the
horror was greater than I could bear, the carpenter cried:

"What's the matter with you?  Don't make a row like that."

"I--I felt something ketch hold of me and pulling me down."

"Something!  Do you call me something?" growled the carpenter.  "Of
course I catched hold of you.  You'd catch hold if you tumbled as I did.
Bad job about the light, master."

"Yes, a very bad job," said my uncle's voice out of the darkness.  "How
was it?"

"Stepped down into some hole, sir.  Felt myself going right into a
crack-like sort o' place."

"All stand still, then," cried my uncle, "while I strike a match.
Where's the lanthorn?"

"Oh, I've got that fast, sir; but you won't get the wick to light, I'm
afraid, now."

"Here, stop!"  I cried, as a sudden feeling of delight shot through me.
"I can see daylight yonder."

"Bravo!  Well done, Nat!" cried my uncle.  "It's a long way off, but
there's a faint gleam yonder in the direction from which that sound of
falling water comes.  Let me lead now, Cross.  I think I can manage
without a light."

"Better feel about well, sir, with your stick," said the carpenter.
"That hole I trod in was rather awkward."

"I'll mind," said my uncle; "follow me close," and he began to wade in
the direction of the faint gleam of light.

"Did you get wet, Pete?"  I said.

"Wet, sir?  He pulled me right under water.  It's buzzing in my ears
now."

"Better than being pulled under by a water-snake, Pete," I said, and he
gave a shivering shudder as we followed on without either coming across
the hole, and at the end of a quarter of an hour the light ahead was
rapidly growing plainer, while the roar of falling water became louder
and echoed through the vast cavern over whose watery floor we
progressed.

In another half-hour's slow wading, we were able to make out our
position, one which now became more striking minute by minute, for we
could see that we were in a vast chasm whose bottom was the rushing
foaming river along which we were wading.  It was some fifty feet wide,
and the roof overhead nearly as much, while right in front, at the
distance of a couple of hundred yards, and facing us as it now sent
ever-changing flashes and reflections of light into the cavern, was the
great fall whose waters thundered as they dived from somewhere out of
sight into a huge basin whose overflowings formed the underground river
along which we journeyed.

The scene became more beautiful minute by minute, the noise more
deafening; and at last we stopped short, warned by the increasing depth
of the water, and the sight of the great pool into which the cascade
thundered down.

We were standing in the beautiful green twilight water to the middle,
but no one for a time wished to stir, the scene was so grand, made more
beautiful as it was from time to time by a gleam of sunshine shooting
down across the faint mist of spray which floated upwards, and wherever
this bright light fell we had glimpses of what seemed like fragments of
a broken rainbow.

"Very beautiful, Nat," said my uncle at last, "but the floor here is
rather damp; I am tired and hungry; and we have to get out.  Which way
shall we try?"

"Not go back, uncle," I said quickly.  "Let's get into the sunshine
again."

"Certainly; but how?  We can't wade any farther without risk of
drowning.  What do you say, Cross?"

"Yonder's an awful pit, sir," said the carpenter.

"I could climb over the stones at the side there," said Pete suddenly.

"Well, I think it possible," said my uncle.  "But where's that rope?"

"I've got it here, sir, round me," said Pete.

"Well, we'll make one end fast round you, and pay out the line as you
climb, so that we can haul you in if you fall into the deep water.  Will
you try?"

"Oh, yes, sir; I'll try," cried Pete.

We made for the side, to find it slightly shallower, and after knotting
the rope round his waist, Pete was started up the rocks, which proved,
in spite of their threatening appearance much less difficult than we had
anticipated, so that in a few minutes the lad had climbed to the level
of the top of the falls, where he stood on a broad shelf, and by the
help of the rope hauled up our baskets and satchels.

This done, Pete threw the rope down to us, then it was made fast to my
waist and I began to climb, Pete hauling in the slack as I advanced,
finding the way giddy but easy to climb.  The danger was a slip upon the
mossy rocks, wet with the fine spray which rose from the awful watery
pit below.

But the touch of the rope gave confidence, and in a few minutes I was by
Pete's side, ready to throw down the rope to Cross, who came up with the
sure-footedness of a sailor.  Then the packs were hauled up, and my
uncle followed.

Our task was not yet done, for we had to take to the river again, just
beyond the edge of the fall, a hundred feet above where we had waded
before, and found ourselves in a narrow gorge with almost perpendicular
sides covered with tree, bush, creeper, and wonderful ferns, all made
glorious by the sunshine and blue sky.

The water was shallow, and we made fair progress, always looking the
while for some way out of the gorge, whose beauties tempted us to
linger, for we were once more among flowers, insects, and birds, one of
the first of which sailed slowly overhead and across the gorge--an eagle
with widespread pinions.

"Out of shot," said my uncle, as we stood knee-deep watching the large
bird till it floated right out of sight.

"And not the sort of specimen we want, if it were in, uncle," I said.

"Quite right, Nat.  Look yonder at the finches and those lovely blue
creepers; but they're not what we want."

"No, uncle," I said; "I'm looking for what we do want.  Ought not the
quetzals to be found in a place like this?"

"We are in their region, Nat," he replied, "and that is all I can say.
We know so little about them, the skins having been mostly supplied by
the Indians.  But these rocks and patches of timber ought to be their
home."

"There's a place, sir, where we might climb up out of this hollow," said
Cross just then, and he pointed to a mere gash in the rocks, down which
a tiny rivulet trickled.

It proved to be passable, and at the end of another quarter of an hour
we were upon fairly level ground, open, and in the full sunshine, ready
to rest, bask, dry our clothes, and sit down to what seemed to me the
most delicious meal I had ever eaten.

In spite of the length of time which we had apparently spent in the
darkness, it was still early in the day, and it was not long, after a
good rest upon a hot rock in the sunny glow, before the two sufferers
from their plunge were able once more to go about in quite dry clothes.

By this time we had made use of pocket compass and glass, taking
bearings, so to speak, and pretty well made out our position to be only
a few miles to the south and west of Puma Valley, while my uncle was in
ecstasies with the promising appearance of the district, for as a
collecting ground we had mountain, forest, plain, valley, and the lovely
river-gorge waiting to be farther explored.

"If the quetzals are to be found, Nat," said my uncle, "we ought to see
them here."

"What about going back, uncle?"  I said, interrupting him.

"Back!" he cried.  "What, are you tired already?"

"No, I was thinking about the possibility of getting up the tent and
some more stores so as to be able to thoroughly explore these higher
grounds."

"Yes," he said; "that's what we must do.  I fancy we can make our way
back without going through that hole again; but it was well worth the
trouble, since it led us to this lovely ravine."

"Pst!"  I whispered; "Pete sees something.  He is making signs.  Look,
he is signing to those trees."

We seized our guns and advanced cautiously in the direction pointed out,
separating so as to cover all the ground, in the full expectation of
seeing some rare bird or another take flight.  But we met on the other
side of the cluster of trees indicated, after having passed right
through without a sign.

"Gone on to the next patch, uncle," I whispered; and we went on again,
carrying out the same plans; and a finch or two took flight, but nothing
more.

Again we went on, and tried a third little clump, but with no better
fortune, and we stopped and looked at each other.

"Whatever it was, it is too cunning for us, Nat," said my uncle, "so we
may as well give it up, for we could go on like this till dark."

"Yes," I said, with a sigh, "and it's hot and tiring work."

"Never mind; let's go back now," he said.  "We don't even know what it
was the lad saw."

We began to retrace our steps, keeping a sharp look-out, but seeing
nothing but some active lizards sunning themselves among the rocks, and
a rattlesnake, which we carefully left at rest; but before we were
half-way back to where we had left our companions we came upon them with
the spare guns.

"Haven't you shot it, sir?" asked Pete, staring hard at my uncle.

"No, we have not even seen it, whatever it is," said my uncle, smiling.

"Wonderful handsome bird, sir, with long blue and green and red and
yellow feathers in its tail."

"Macaw--Ara," said my uncle; "flying across from tree to tree?"

"Yes, sir, I daresay it was," said Pete; "but it wasn't flying; it was
on the ground, and when we saw it, in it went among the bushes quite
slowly, didn't it, Bill?"

"You said it did, my lad," replied Cross.  "I didn't see it."

"Long green, blue, red, and yellow feathers in its tail?" said my uncle.

"Yes, sir; that's it," looking up.

"And on the ground?"

"Yes, sir."

"Running?"

"Oh, no, sir, it was just creeping quietly along when I beckoned you."

"I don't know any bird answering your description but a macaw," said my
uncle.  "How big was it?"

"As big as a barn-door cock, sir, I think."

"Look here, Pete; you've seen macaws, or aras, as they call them.  Mr
Nat here shot one days ago."

"Them big poll parrots, sir?  Oh no, it warn't one of them, sir.  I know
that sort well enough."

"I hope we shall come upon it another day then," said my uncle.

We had a short rest, and then turned in the direction of the river-gorge
again, its presence simplifying our position, for we had only to steer
south at any time to come upon the steep, well-wooded ravine, along
whose sides we had constant peeps of the clear flowing water, finding
several places where we could descend, while here the variety of birds,
insects, and reptiles was wonderful, and had we wanted them we could
soon have killed more than we should have been able to preserve.

But with most of them my uncle was familiar, and unless the specimen
seen was something rare, he let it go in peace.

"Fortune may favour us, Nat," he said, "and we may come upon the home of
the beautiful trogons, especially the splendid trogon, or quetzal.  Then
we must make the best of our opportunities."

I had expected that we should make our way back to the boat-camp that
night, but we spent so much time exploring the wonders and beauties of
the gorge, that evening was coming on when we stopped about a mile
higher along the stream than the spot where we first climbed up, and as
we were well supplied with provisions, and were pretty well fagged, my
uncle decided to camp in the shelter of the rocky side of the ravine for
the night.

So Pete was set to collect dead wood for a fire, Cross descended with
our kettle to fill it below, and before long we were partaking of a
capital meat-tea by the light of the fire; while we strolled a little
way from our camp to listen to the various sounds of the night, it
seemed as if a fresh world of inhabitants had awakened, and for hours we
listened to the strange notes of bird and insect, and watched with
wonder the beauty of the fire-flies, which never seemed to grow common.

The fire was burning low when we turned back to camp, and Pete was
stretched out on the sandy shelf beneath the great tree he had selected
for our resting-place, and snoring as if he meant to make up for the
hard day's work.

But Cross was wakeful and ready to throw a few more dry twigs upon the
fire to light us as soon as he heard our steps.

"Seen or heard anything, Cross?"  I said.

"Crickets, and toads, and frogs, and chuckling birds who seem to think
we must be foolish to come right out here into no-man's-land, sir.
That's about all.  How have you got on?"

"Had a lovely walk," I said, as I settled down in my place beneath the
sheltering boughs.  "Good-night, uncle; good-night, everybody," and I
believe that in ten minutes' time I was sleeping as soundly as if secure
and well housed in a civilised land.



CHAPTER ELEVEN.

WE LOSE THE AXE.

"Well, you can't help liking the place, Master Nat," said Pete the next
morning, as we prepared the breakfast, "even if you do have to sleep on
the sand with a nubbly stone under your back.  Look at it; makes me feel
as if I should like to be a savage Indian chief, and always live here
shooting and fishing."

"It is lovely," I said, as I gazed around at the glorious scene.

"Why, you could get more birds here than you'll ever want.  I think we
ought to stay here instead of going away."

"We're only going to fetch up more stores and the tent, Pete.  We must
bring an axe, too, and make a shed."

"Then we're coming back?"

"Yes."

"Oh, that's all right, then, Master Nat.  I did think it a pity to run
away again as soon as we'd found this place."

The sun was only just up when after a good breakfast we started to find
our way back to the entrance of the cave where we had set off upon our
dark journey; and, taking a course which he had marked out from the high
ground, my uncle led the way so well that by afternoon we struck the
stream again, not by the mouth of the cavern, but miles below it, so
that as soon as we could find a way down to its bank we retraced our
way, and reached the anchored and well-moored boat long before dark.

Our task now was simple.  The loads we were to take up the
mountain-gorge were prepared, and next morning, heavily laden, we
started with the intention of staying in the neighbourhood of the upper
river for a week certain.

It was a hard task, laden as we were, but we managed to reach the
camping-place with our heavy loads just at nightfall, one and all
completely done up, and content to eat a morsel of food before lying
down to sleep at once.

"It's very fortunate for us that the country is quite uninhabited," I
remember thinking, as I lay down and revelled in the restful sensation
afforded by the soft dry sand, part of a heap which had crumbled from
the side of the ravine in the course of ages.

I remember no more till I was awakened by Pete, who announced breakfast,
and I stared confusedly in the light of the early dawn at the bright
fire, and wondered where I was.

That morning the tent was set up, and a rough shed was cleverly made by
Cross, who seemed to glory in showing us how easily he could contrive a
good shelter in case we should be overtaken by a tropical storm.

He selected a spot where the rock was out of the perpendicular, hanging
over to some extent, and here he soon had four young straight trees set
up, held in place by cross-pieces.  Then rafters of bamboo were bound in
position with the strong creepers which abounded, and this done, he
began thatching, first with green boughs, then with a layer of palm-like
leaves, which he made to overlap, and a strong reedy grass, that grew
abundantly in a low moist place by the river, was bound on in bundles
for a finish.

"Capital," said my uncle; "but too much like stopping for months, when
it is hardly likely we shall stay two weeks."

"May as well be comfortable, sir, while we are here," said Cross,
smiling.  "Keep the sun off, if we don't have rain."

That night we had everything shipshape, and retired early to rest, to
enjoy a delicious sleep, which only seemed to last ten minutes before I
opened my eyes to find it was morning once more, and I lay wondering
what it was that Cross had lost, for it seemed to me in my half-wakeful
state that I heard him say:

"Well, no more bones about it; you had it last, and you must find it."

I could not speak till I had made an effort and sat up, and then I was
wakeful enough for the words to come.

"What have you lost?"  I asked.

"My axe, sir, and I can't get along without that.  It's a whole bag of
tools to me.  Pete had it last thing to chop some wood, and he says he
laid it down inside the hut; but it aren't here now, and he's got to
find it."

"I can't find it, Master Nat," said Pete dolefully; "he must have took
it away and laid it somewhere else himself.  Seems such a pity, it do."

"What, to take the axe?"  I said.

"Nay--I meant to have a bother about that, and spoiling the holiday.  I
know the best way to find a thing like that," he added triumphantly.

"How?"  I asked.

"Don't look for it, and then you're sure to find it when you least
expect."

But the axe was not found then, and it was soon forgotten, for we were
too busy searching the sides of the wonderful gorge, going day after day
for miles on one side exploring the nooks and crannies, and another day
wading across the river to explore the other side.

But though we discovered and shot numbers of the most beautiful birds,
many of them quite new to both, we saw no sign of those we sought, and
at last my uncle had decided that we must move a few miles higher, when
a discovery was made which sent a thrill of hopefulness through us, and
we began exploring and shooting more eagerly than ever, devoting each
morning to the task and the evenings to skinning and preserving, till
our selection of beautiful skins began to grow to an extent far greater
than we had intended.

Meanwhile we had been living a gloriously free and happy life;
expeditions had been made twice to the boat for more necessaries, which
were supplemented by an abundant supply of birds and fishes, the upper
waters being so full of the latter that it was an easy task of a morning
for Pete and me to catch enough for a meal.

But we had a few unpleasant experiences.  Twice over we found that
rattlesnakes had been attracted by the fire and had taken possession of
quarters in our tent, for which, as they viciously showed fight, they
were condemned to death and executed.

One morning, too, on waking, I caught sight of peculiar marks on the
loose dry sand, a smooth deep furrow having been made, to which I drew
my uncle's attention.

"We ought to hunt out the creature which made that, Nat," said my uncle.
"Rather an unpleasant neighbour to have.  Why, the fellow that marked
that trail must be a good eighteen feet long."

It, too, suffered for its temerity, for it came again, and was seen by
Pete on awaking in the morning, when he cautiously drew my attention to
the monster's presence near the fire.

The next minute a couple of shots from my double gun rang out, and the
huge serpent was writhing and twining among the bushes, and beating them
flat by blows from its powerful tail.

Cross skinned it when it was dead, saying that he must have it for a
curiosity if we did not, and probably it stretched a little in the
process, for it proved to be a python, twenty feet in length and
enormously thick.

It was the very next day when we were about to move, the visit of the
python and the possibility of one from its mate having decided our
immediate change, after a final tramp round in search of the birds we
wanted.

But we had no more luck than usual.  We could have shot plenty of
specimens, but not those we sought, and we were nearing our camp when
all at once what I took to be a pigeon dashed out of a tree, and meaning
it for a roast, my gun flew to my shoulder, I fired hastily, and the
bird fell.

"Uncle!"  I cried, as I picked it out dead from among a clump of ferns.

"A quetzal!" shouted my uncle excitedly, for it was a scarlet-breasted
bird, with back and wing, coverts of a glorious golden-green.

"But you said that they had tails three or four feet long."

"Yes," said my uncle; "the kind I want to find have, while this is only
short; but here is proof that we are working in the right direction."

"Then we must stop here, uncle," I cried.

"Yes, Nat, it would be madness to leave.  We must wait till the right
ones come."

That bird's wonderfully oily and tender skin was carefully stripped off
in the evening, and it had a drying box all to itself, one made
expressly by Cross, who confided to me that it was the finest bird he
had ever seen.

"Some of they humming-birds is handsome enough," he said, "but there's
nothing of 'em.  This one's grand.  Now, if I could only find that there
chopper as Pete lost--"

"Didn't lose it," growled Pete.

"--I should be," continued the carpenter, severely, "a happy man.
Aren't you, sir?"

"No," I said; "nor shall be till I shoot some with tails three feet
long."

The finding of this specimen completely, as I have said, changed our
plans.

"It would be folly to go away now, Nat," repeated my uncle, "for at any
moment we may find quite a flock."

This was one afternoon, when we had returned after an unsuccessful hunt,
to take out our treasure and gloat over its wonderful plumage.

"Yes," I said; "but it's very tiresome, all this failure.  Perhaps this
is the only one for hundreds of miles."

"Nonsense!" cried my uncle.  "I daresay, if the truth were known, we
pass scores of them every day, sitting after the fashion of these
trogons, perfectly still like a ball of feathers, watching us, and with
their green plumage so like that of the leaves that we might go by
hundreds of times and not see them."

"Oh!"  I cried, "we could not pass one of them.  The sun would make
those beautiful golden-green wing coverts flash again."

"In the sunshine, my boy, but they rest in the deep shade.  We shall
come upon them yet, and find out their habits.  Then all will be easy.
Anyone searching for birds of paradise in New Guinea might go scores of
times without success, and come away and say there are none.  Just as it
is in Australia: at one time of year flocks of the great white and
sulphur cockatoos can be found; at another time you may search the same
district for months and not see one."

"Yes, uncle," I said wearily, for I was tired after a long walk in the
hot sun pestered by flies; "and I suppose there are plenty of birds
about here that we have not seen.  Why, of course, we haven't seen
Pete's wonderful specimen yet."

"No," said my uncle drily, "and I shall be very much surprised if we
ever do."

"Do you think there is nothing of the kind, then?"  I said.

"I don't like to be positive, but I should say that he made that bird
out of his own head."

"Oh, I don't think so, uncle," I replied; "Pete's very honest and
straightforward."

"Yes, but he lets his brain run riot, Nat.  He saw some bird, I do not
doubt, but not clothed and ornamented as he says."

"There are birds with brightly-coloured tails such as he said?"

"Are there?" said my uncle drily.  "I think not.  If there be I should
like a specimen; it would be an exciting display for the learned
bird-lovers in London to gaze at.  Don't you see, my boy, he furnished
the specimen he saw with the tail plumage of three different varieties
of the macaw--the green the blue, and the red.  Pete's eyes played
tricks with him that time.  I wish he would see the long floating
feathers of a quetzal flashing its green and gold and purple in the
sunshine."

"So do I, uncle," I replied.  "I wish we could find and shoot dozens of
them, but I don't long for the task of skinning them; they are so
delicate and likely to tear."

"Like all the birds related to the cuckoos," said my uncle; "but we were
very successful over this.  By the way, Pete is getting very handy in
that way.  We must trust him with some of the commoner things, for it
seems as if after all we shall have to fill up with the best of the
less-known birds."

"Oh, no," I said, as I carefully smoothed down the loose silky plumage
of our solitary specimen.  "We're tired now.  When we have had a good
wash and our tea-dinner we shall feel different."

I carefully put away the trogon, and crossed to where Pete was busy
getting the kettle to boil, and making other preparations for our
evening meal.  No light task, for his fire troubled him a good deal, and
he began about it at once.

"What I want, Master Nat," he said, "is some regular good stiff clay to
make up into bricks.  They'd bake hard.  As for these stones I build up
a fireplace and oven with, some go bang and fly off in splinters, and
the other sort moulders all away into dust--regular lime, you know, that
fizzles and cisses when it's cold and you pour water over it, and then
comes hot again."

"Try some of those pieces out of the river bed."

"I have, sir, and they're worst of all.  I say, Master Nat, stop and see
that the pot don't boil over.  I want to go down and get some fresh,
clean water."

"Don't be long, then," I cried.  "I say, what's in the pot?"

"Dicky bird stoo!" said Pete, grinning.  "No touching while I'm gone."

He caught up the bucket and started off down the cliff-side towards the
river, while I idly watched him till he was out of sight, and sat back
away from the glow of the fire, for I was hot enough without that.

Then I naturally began thinking about the splendid trogons, and whether
there was any likely place near that we had not well hunted through.

"Lots," I said to myself.  "They're here to-day and gone to-morrow.
That's the way with birds, except when they have nests.  They go about
according to where they can find food.  Hullo!  He can't have got to the
water in this short time."

For I had caught sight of Pete hurrying back, and as soon as he saw me
watching him climbing up from below he begun to make signs to me not to
speak.

"What has he found?"  I said to myself, for he was creeping up nearly
bent double and moving with the greatest caution.

I rose to go down to him, but at the slightest movement he waved his
hand to me to keep back; so I waited till he came up, panting, his face
covered with the great drops of perspiration.

"Seen a big snake?"  I said, laughing.

"No," he whispered; "don't make a noise.  I've seen the troghums."

"What!"  I cried excitedly.

"Don't," he whispered, "or you may frighten 'em again."

"But do you mean to say you've seen some of the beautiful trogons?"

"No," he panted, "not them; I've seen two or three of them other birds
with the green and yellow and blue cocked-up tails, same as I saw before
and you couldn't find."

"Where are they?"  I cried eagerly, for it was evident that he had seen
something new in the way of birds.

"Down below in the path we cut away to get to the water.  They're behind
the low bushes, three or four of 'em, and I could see their tails
cocking up over the top.  Guns, quick, 'fore they're gone and you say I
was dreaming again."

I uttered a low chirruping signal which brought my uncle and Cross to
hear the news, and the next minute we had seized our guns.

None too soon, for we were hardly ready before Pete pointed triumphantly
downward towards a clump of ferns some twenty yards away, where I
distinctly saw something move.

"Now, aren't there no birds with tails like that?" he whispered, and I
saw plainly in three places just such feathers as he had described rise
into sight; but they were not the tails of birds, being the fantastic
feather tiaras of Indians, whose dark faces rose now full in our view.

The next moment we saw that they were armed with bows, and I had hardly
realised this when there was a twanging sound, the whizz of arrows, and
I uttered a cry of pain.

It was as if a red-hot iron had passed through my shoulder, and my cry
was echoed by an Indian yell.



CHAPTER TWELVE.

ATTACKED BY INDIANS.

My pang of agony was accompanied by a feeling of rage against the cause
of it, and in blind fury I fired both barrels of my gun in the direction
of the Indians, almost at the same moment as my uncle and the carpenter
discharged theirs.

The reports were followed by another yell, the crashing of bushes and
ferns, and the sound as of men tearing away.

"Take care, Cross," cried my uncle.  "Load again, and keep under cover.
Hah! there goes one of the treacherous hounds.  Gone, and I'm not
loaded.  Now I am.  Not hurt, are you, Nat?"

"I'm afraid I am," I said, drawing in my breath with pain.

"Here, let's look," cried my uncle.  "Keep under cover, Pete.  I don't
want anyone else to be hurt.  You, Cross, look out, and fire at the
first sign.  Now, Nat, what is it?  Tut, tut, tut!  There, keep a good
heart, my lad.  It has gone clean through your shoulder."

"Poisoned, uncle?"  I cried anxiously.

"Pooh!  Nonsense, boy!  Hold still.  It will not be a long operation."

I saw him take out his keen knife.

"Are you going to cut out the arrow head?"  I said huskily.

"There is no need; the Indian did that for you.  Look here."

I could not help shuddering, but I was firm, and watched him take hold
of the slender arrow close to my shoulder, and with one stroke cut
cleanly through it close to the wing-feathers.  Then, going behind me,
he seized the other part and made me wince once more with pain, as with
one quick, steady movement, he drew the missile right through.

"Hurt?" he said cheerfully.

"Horribly, uncle."

"Never mind that.  It's only through flesh.  No bone-touch, and there
are only a couple of little holes to heal up.  Pan of water here, Pete."

"Aren't none, sir.  I was going to fetch a bucket when I see what I
thought was birds."

"Tut, tut, tut!" ejaculated my uncle.  "I must have some water to bathe
the wounds."

"All right, sir; I'll run down for some.  Bucket's down there."

"No, no!  The Indians--they may attack you."

"What!" cried Pete in a whimpering voice; "touch me when I'm going for
some water for Master Nat?  They'd better!  I'd smash 'em."

Before he could be stopped he was bounding down the precipitous place,
and my uncle turned anxiously to Cross.

"See any sign of them?" he said.

"Yes, sir, twice over; but they were too quick for me to get a shot.
They've waded the river down yonder, and I got a glimpse of two of 'em
climbing up."

"Hah!  Then he may escape them.  Cross, one of us ought to follow and
cover him."

"Right, sir.  I'm off," cried the carpenter, and he hurried down our way
to the river, just as we heard two sharp cracks from somewhere below.

"Make you feel sick, Nat?" said my uncle.

"No, I forgot it just then.  I was thinking what a trump Pete is.  Poor
fellow!  He has risked his life to get me that water."

"Yes," said my uncle through his teeth: "he's a brave fellow, and he
likes you, Nat."

No more was said, and in a few minutes we heard the rustling of bushes
and saw Bill Cross coming backwards with his gun at the ready, covering
Pete, who was panting up with his bucket of water.

The next minute my smarting wounds were being bathed and the bleeding
encouraged till it stopped naturally, when my uncle brought out his
pocket-book, applied some lint from it, and bandaged the places firmly,
afterwards turning a handkerchief into a sling.

"There," he said, "you need not fidget about poison, my lad.  The place
will soon heal.  Now then, any sign of the enemy?"

"No, sir," cried Pete; "they cut away across the river, all but that
chap that was hit."

"Was one hit?" said my uncle eagerly.

"Yes, sir; he's lying down yonder by the water, and he's got our
chopper."

"What?"

"I come upon him lying bleeding, and as soon as he saw me he began to
put an arrow on his bow-string; but I hit him on the nose, broke his bow
in two, and chucked his arrows in the river.  He must have come before,
and sneaked our old axe."

"Then he's there now?"

"Yes, sir; he can't run.  You winged him--I mean legged.  But I've got
our chopper again."

"Sit still, Nat," said my uncle.  "Here, Pete, carry my gun, and you,
Cross, come and cover me.  I can't leave the poor wretch like that."

I saw Cross frown as he followed my uncle, and Pete stopped for a moment
behind with me.

"I mustn't stop, Master Nat," he said.  "I am sorry, sir, but don't you
be a downhearted 'un.  I shan't be long.  I say: who was right about the
axe?"

I nodded my thanks to him, and then sat back, in acute pain, thinking
about the sudden change in the state of our affairs, and of how
necessary it would be for us to retreat into a safer part of the
country.  It was all so unexpected and so vexatious, just as in all
probability we might be on the point of discovering the birds we sought.

I was musing in a half-faint way, the pain and shock having made me feel
very sick, when I heard the sounds of the returning party, and to my
surprise they brought in the wounded Indian on Cross's back, the poor
fellow being in a half-fainting condition from a frightful wound in the
right thigh.

As he was laid down on his back he began to come-to, and looked wildly
round, while when he saw my uncle approach him knife in hand, he set his
teeth and made a fierce attempt to rise.

But Cross was holding him from behind, and the poor fellow was helpless.
He evidently believed that his enemy was about to put him to death, and
on finding that he could not help himself he seemed ready to calmly
accept his fate, for he fixed his eyes upon my uncle with a bitter,
contemptuous smile, and then folded his arms and lay there like an image
cast in bronze.

It was not a fierce countenance, being smooth, large-eyed, and disposed
to be effeminate and plump, while when my uncle busied himself over the
terrible wound with the knife, and must have given the man excruciating
pain, he did not even wince, but kept gazing hard at his surgeon who
tortured him, as if proud and defiant to the last.

His expression only began to change when he saw the knife laid aside and
Pete bring some water in the tin for my uncle to bathe the wound; and
now it was full of wonder as the place was covered with lint from the
pocket-book, and then carefully bandaged from the supply ready against
accidents.

"There, my fine fellow," said my uncle at last; "now if you keep quiet,
you being a healthy fellow, young and strong, that bad wound will soon
heal.  If you had left us alone you would not have got it.  You don't
understand, of course; but you must lie still."

The Indian's countenance changed more than ever.  He had fully grasped
the fact that he was not to be slain, and also that his wound had been
carefully dressed, and with his fierce aspect completely gone, he took
hold of the hand with which my uncle was pressing him back to lie still,
and held it against his forehead, smiling up at him the while; and then
he sank back and closed his eyes.

"It's a bad wound, Nat, but he'll get over it.  That must have been your
shot."

"Why not yours?"  I said.  "I couldn't shoot with that arrow through
me."

"But you did, for it was done with the big swan pellets, and I had
nothing but dust shot in my gun, for the little birds."

"Oh!"  I cried wonderingly.

"Ah, that's why you made that poor fellow cry."

As I lay and thought afterwards I was to my dissatisfaction convinced
that mine had been the hand which fired the shot, and the knowledge of
this somehow made me feel a kind of sympathy for the savage who lay
there far more badly wounded than I, while the carpenter and my uncle,
with Pete's help, built up a kind of semi-circular hedge as a defence
around us.

"We can't begin our retreat with you in that condition, Nat," my uncle
said, "and I don't like to be driven away by a little party of ruffians
like these."

"I could walk," I said.

"I know that," he replied curtly; "walk yourself into a state, of fever,
and make your wound go bad.  Look at that fellow; Nature teaches him
what to do--lie still--curl up like an animal, till his injury heals.
What are you thinking about?"

"That poor fellow's wound."

"Poor fellow!  Possibly the savage who sent that arrow through your
shoulder.  You're a rum fellow, Nat."

"Well, you were just as sympathetic, uncle," I said.  "See how you
dressed his wound, just as if he were a friend."

"No, I did not, Nat," he said, smiling.  "I dressed him just as a
surgeon should a wounded patient.  By the way, he did not seem to bear
any malice."

"Perhaps he will, uncle, when he knows I shot him."

"Don't tell him, then.  We'll all share the blame."

"So you mean to stop here, then?"  I said.

"Yes, certainly, for the present.  Why, if we were to begin to pack up,
I daresay the next thing we should see would be a flock of quetzals
flying about."

"But suppose a whole tribe of Indians attack us?"

"Not likely, Nat.  These people are few and greatly scattered; but if we
are attacked we shall have to give the poor wretches a scaring with a
few charges of shot--I mean distant charges, scattered, not fired at
close quarters like yours."

The day passed slowly by, with my three companions working away to
strengthen our little camp, and the wounded Indian sleeping.  I, too,
dropped off for an hour during the great heat of the late afternoon, and
awoke feeling feverish and strange.  But Pete was set to bathe my
forehead with water, and the rapid evaporation made my head
comparatively cool and pleasant, so much so that my uncle smiled.

"You're going on all right, Nat," he said, "and the wound will soon grow
easier."

The sun had passed over to the west, and was behind the cliff, leaving
us well in shelter; the sound of the rushing water below sounded cool
and pleasant, and I was lying back watching the wounded Indian--Carib,
my uncle called him--when all at once there came a low howl from the
thicket on the other side of the river.

"What's that!  One of the howling monkeys?"  I said to uncle.

"No," he said softly, and I saw him reach out his hand slowly for his
gun.  "Watch my patient."

I turned my eyes to where the man lay, and saw that he had raised his
head, and was gazing keenly in the direction whence the cry had come.

The next minute the howl was repeated, and it had hardly died out when
it arose again, but this time from our prisoner, who placed his hands to
his lips and sent forth a mournful cry.

Then it was answered from the other side, and the Carib turned excitedly
to us, talking rapidly, but without our being able to comprehend a word.

One thing, though, was evident--the poor fellow was highly excited, and
he smiled and chattered at us, before repeating the cry, which was again
answered, and then a kind of duet was kept up, with the distance and
time between the calls growing shorter minute by minute.

"This is all very well," said Cross softly, "but he's bringing on his
Injun mates.  You'll tell us when to fire, sir?"

"Yes, if there is any need," said my uncle.  "Be ready; that is all."

Our prisoner watched us excitedly, and evidently grasped what was meant,
for he began to talk to us eagerly, and then pointed downward again and
again.

He was in the midst of an eager explanation to us when there was a
rustling in the bushes below, and a dusky figure came up, caught sight
of us behind the barricade, and stopped short.  But our prisoner uttered
a call, and the dark, pleasant-faced figure came on fearlessly, found
the opening we had left, and the next moment was down upon her knees
wailing softly and passing her hands over the bandages, ending by laying
her face against our prisoner's breast, and beginning to sob.

"Nothing to fear from her," said my uncle.  "It's the poor fellow's
wife."

Meanwhile the Carib was evidently explaining his position to the woman,
and she turned to us, smiling, evidently ready to be the best of
friends, while her manners showed that she meant to stay and nurse her
wounded husband, whom she had traced to where he lay.

"Better be friends than enemies, Nat," said my uncle.  "But one of us
must keep watch to-night."



CHAPTER THIRTEEN.

SUCCESS AT LAST.

Watch was kept that night and several more, while the days were passed
suspiciously and uneasily.  But we saw no sign of more Indians, those
who shared our camp seeming quite at home, and proving to be gentle,
inoffensive creatures, now that they were satisfied that we intended to
do them no harm.

The woman began at once to see to the fire, and fetch water from the
river, and only once showed any sign of resentment.  That was on the
morning following her coming, when my uncle began to unfasten his
patient's bandages after dressing my arm.

This she tried to stop by seizing my uncle's hand, but at a word from
her husband she sat down and watched the whole process.  After that the
morning performance of the surgical duties was looked for with the
greatest interest, the woman fetching water and waiting upon my uncle
during his attention to both his patients.

The days passed on, with my wound troubling me but very little.  The
prisoner's was far worse, but he did not seem to suffer, settling down
quite happily in a dreamy way, and as no danger came near, the shooting
and collecting went on, my uncle going alone, and leaving Pete and Cross
to protect me and the camp.

Fortunately we had a sufficiency of stores, my uncle shot for provisions
as well as science; I helped by sitting down in one particular spot by
the rushing stream and catching fish almost as fast as I could throw in,
and Mapah, as the woman's name seemed to be, went off every morning and
returned loaded with wild fruit and certain roots, which she and her
husband ate eagerly.

Some very good specimens were brought in by my uncle, and the two
Indians sat watching us curiously as we busily skinned them, filled them
out, and laid them to dry, Mapah eagerly taking possession of the
tail-feathers of some parrots intended to be cooked for the evening's
meal, and weaving them into a band of plaited grass so as to form tiaras
of the bright-hued plumes for herself and her husband, both wearing them
with no little show of pride.

"And only to think of it, Master Nat," said Pete.  "Reg'larly cheated me
when I see 'em first over the bushes; I made sure they was birds."

They expressed a good deal of pleasure, too, over some of the brighter
birds brought in, and our prisoner talked and made signs to me and
pointed in one direction as he tried hard to make me understand
something one day; but I was alone with him, and very dense for a time,
as in a crippled way I put the finishing touches to the skin of a
brilliant kingfisher.

Then all at once I grasped his meaning.

"Why, of course!"  I cried.  "How thick-headed of me!"

I went to the bamboo half-box, half-basket Cross had made, and brought
it back to where the Indian was sitting nursing his wounded leg, took
off the lid, and carefully withdrew the trogon.

"Is that the sort of bird you mean?"  I said.

"Hah!" he said, in a long-drawn cry, full of the satisfaction he felt,
and both he and his wife chattered to me eagerly, Mapah shaking her
head, though, and pointing at the bird's tail with one dusky hand,
before holding both out before me a yard apart.

"You've seen them with tails as long as that?"  I said, placing my hand
by the caudal feathers of our one specimen, and then slowly drawing it
away till it was some distance off.

"Hah!" cried the Indian again, and he laughed and chatted, and pointed
across the river to the south, while his wife took off her feather
crown, held it before me, and drew each long feather through her hand as
if stretching it to three feet in length, and then touched the
golden-green plumage of our solitary specimen.

The trogon was carefully put away, the kingfisher laid to dry, and then
I could hardly contain myself till my uncle's return, well laden with
ducks and a dusky bird that was evidently a half-grown turkey.

"Tired out, Nat," he said, throwing down the birds, for Mapah and her
husband to seize and begin to pluck for our evening meal.  "We must make
a fresh start."

"Why?"  I said quietly.

"Because we have shot the only trogon in the district, and we are
wasting time here."

"Nonsense," I said; "there are plenty more."

"If we could find them," he replied wearily.

I had intended to keep him waiting longer, but I could not hold back
what I felt certain I had discovered, and hurrying to the case I brought
out the precious specimen and made Mapah and her husband go through the
whole pantomime again.

"Why, Nat," cried my uncle excitedly, while Pete and Cross looked on,
"it's as plain as a pikestaff: these people are quite familiar with the
long-tailed species--_resplendens_--and they could take us to places
where they could be found."

"That's it, uncle," I cried, and Pete and Cross joined in a hearty
cheer.

"Oh, but to think of it--the misery and disappointment," cried my uncle:
"that poor fellow will not be able to walk and act as guide for a month,
and it may be a hundred miles away."

"That don't matter, sir," cried Pete; "he's only a little chap.  Me and
Bill Cross'll take it in turns pig-a-backing him; won't we mate?"

"We will that, Pete, lad," cried the carpenter, and somehow that seemed
to be the brightest evening of our expedition, even the two Indians
seeming to share our satisfaction, for they readily grasped the idea
that they had afforded us pleasure by promising in their fashion to show
us the objects of our weary search.

As we lay down to sleep that night I felt more wakeful than ever I had
been before, and I could hear my uncle turning restlessly about.

All at once he broke the silence by whispering,--

"Asleep, Nat?"

"Asleep?  No; I've got quetzal on the brain, and the birds seem to be
pecking at my shoulder on both sides with red-hot beaks.  How do you
feel?"

"In agony, my boy.  I'm afraid we have been jumping at conclusions.
Perhaps the Indians do not understand, after all."

Sleep came at last, though, and the next day nothing else could be
thought of or talked of.  The Indians were questioned in dumb show, with
the skin of the trogon for a text, and we got on more, Uncle Dick's
spirits rising as it grew more plainly that the Indian fully understood
about the birds we wanted.  In fact, in dumb show he at last began to
teach us the bird's habits.

He showed us how it sat upon the branch of a tree, taking a parroquet as
an example, pointing out that the bird we meant had toes like it, two
before and two behind, setting it on a piece of wood, and then ruffling
its plumage all up till it looked like a ball of feathers.

"That's right, Nat," cried my uncle.  "Exactly how trogons sit.  The
fellow's a born observer.  I am glad you shot him.  Go on, Dusky."

The man understood, as he sat holding the piece of branch in one hand,
the bird in the other.  He glanced at us to see if we were watching him,
and then smoothing the feathers quickly, he began to buzz and whirr like
a beetle, as cleverly as a ventriloquist.  Next he made the dead bird he
held dart from its perch, and imitated the quick flight of one chasing a
large beetle through the air, catching it, and returning to its perch,
where with wonderful accuracy he went through the movements of it
swallowing its prey, and then ruffling itself up again into a ball of
feathers.

"Splendid!" cried my uncle.  "Exact.  He knows the right birds, Nat.
Now then, Cuvier, where is the happy spot?  Over yonder?" and my uncle
pointed up the river; but the Indian shook his head, and pointed across
and away to the south, after which he laid his head upon his hand and
imitated going to sleep eight times.

"Eight days' journey to the south, Nat," said Uncle Dick.  "A long way
to carry him.  I understand," he said, turning to the Indian again,
shouldering his gun, bending down, and making believe to walk; but his
patient shook his head violently, took hold of his piece of wood, and
went through the motion of paddling.

"Hah!"  I cried, imitating him.  "He means we should have to go in a
canoe, uncle."

"That's it," he cried, and he pointed down at the river; but the man
shook his head again, and pointed right across into the distance.

"Nat," said my uncle, "we shall do it yet.  It must be on that river we
passed before we turned up this.  We shall have to get him down to the
boat."

I wish I could write--_No sooner said than done_; but it was not so; for
our future guide was not yet fit to start on such a journey.  He was
getting better fast, but not fast enough, and in spite of my assertions,
I was not recovered from a very bad wound.  In short, it seemed that the
only thing to do, as we appeared to have nothing more to fear from
Indians with two such guards in camp, was to send down to the boat for
more of the stores, that is, enough for another fortnight's stay, when
the difficulty was solved by Cross one morning.

"I've been turning it over in my mind, Master Nat, about carrying that
chap down to the boat, but the doctor says it would open his wound again
and throw him back, so that won't do."

"No; certainly not," I said.

"Then I got a notion that I could knock up a sort of chair he could sit
in, and me and Pete and Mrs Mapah could carry it strapped on our backs
in turn."

"Nonsense!  That little woman could not carry her husband."

"What, sir!" cried Cross laughing.  "Don't you make a mistake, sir;
she's as strong as a pony.  But the doctor says it would shake him too
much, so what do you say to this?  S'pose I build a raft, and we go back
the same as we come?"

"Through the dark cavern?"

"I don't know no laws again' our burning a good light, sir."

"But how are you going to get it down the falls?"

"In bits, sir," he said, laughing.  "I should build it down yonder on
the side at the bottom of the falls.  Then we could swing old Dusky down
with the rope, and all we should want would be a couple of bamboo poles,
and there we are."

The notion seemed wild at first, but Cross soon showed Uncle Dick and me
that it was quite possible; and in the course of the next fortnight he
proved it by means of his axe, making the raft out of the bamboos that
he cut and which we sent down to him over the falls, some to be broken
in the descent, but the most part to reach him safe and sound.

As the work went on Mapah helped, being wonderfully active and
sure-footed on the rocks; and through her our prisoner grasped the
meaning of what was going on, nodding and smiling when the time came for
our start, and to my great satisfaction showing not the slightest
shrinking from venturing into the cavern after being carefully lowered
down.

For at last all was ready, and with a good supply of resinous boughs cut
into lengths for torches, we lit up and embarked upon our return
journey, to find that what had looked so terrible through the darkness
of ignorance was a perfectly trivial affair.  It was through resounding
cavern and winding tunnel, shrouded in gloom, but utterly wanting in
terrors and difficulties, being merely the gliding down a subterranean
stream out into broad daylight at the other end.

Here our raft served to carry us over the shallows right down to our
boat, at which our prisoner gazed in wonder--wonder which was increased
when we set sail and glided towards the mouth of the little river we had
passed on our way up.

It soon became evident that in his wanderings our Indian had been over
the ground before.  This was proved by his manner towards his wife, to
whom he talked eagerly, pointing out different objects, rocky cliff,
forest and mountain, as if they were familiar objects.

But the great proof of all was his behaviour a couple of days later,
when we felt that the mouth of the southern river must be near, for he
was all excitement till it was in sight, when he began shouting to us
and pointing, indicating that we should steer the boat into the mouth of
the very river as I suggested weeks before, and take a fresh course.

"Hah!" exclaimed my uncle; "you were right, Nat, after all.  I fancied
he meant this."

Fortunately for us, the narrowness and the way in which the side stream
was encumbered with overhanging growth, fallen log and tangle proved to
be only at the very beginning; for at the end of a mile or two of
difficulties which were very discouraging, while the stream narrowed so
that it promised to close in overhead, its course became clearer and its
waters deep and sluggish, so that we were able to camp at night some
miles from the mouth.

The next day our guide showed us by signs that our oars were not proper
implements for use in such a river, with the result that Cross set to
work roughing out a paddle which our companions seized upon to finish
off while another was made.  Boards from the bottom and thwarts were cut
up for the purpose, and before many hours had passed we were furnished
with half-a-dozen fairly useful paddles, by whose aid, and all working
together, the boat could be directed through the narrowest channels of
verdure.

For the next six days we steadily advanced, through a wonderfully
beautiful region, a very paradise for a naturalist, and where we might
have collected gorgeously plumaged birds by the thousand and insects
galore.

But we had our one aim in view, and though we seemed as far off as ever,
and there were moments when Uncle Dick and I began to doubt, our guide
seemed so confident, pointing always onward, that we grew hopeful again,
and went on and on.

"Do you know what Bill Cross says, Master Nat?" said Pete, when we were
camping one evening.

"How should I?"  I replied pettishly, for I was weary of the continuous
paddling.

"Then, I'll tell you, sir," said Pete solemnly, "He says he feels
cock-sure that them two brown 'uns is taking us to where their tribe
lives, so that they may grab the boat and guns and things, and then
light a fire and have a feast."

"Eat us?"  I said.

"That's it, sir; the doctor says they must be Caribs, and Caribs is
cannibals, and we ought to go back."

"So we will, Pete," I said, "when we have found the quetzals."

It was the very next day that, after struggling a few more miles over
shallows, the roar of water fell upon our ears, and the current
gradually grew more swift, while that night with a good deal of
pantomime our guide indicated that the boat could go no farther.

"As if we didn't know that, Master Nat," said Cross.

The consequence was that our craft was securely moored, the tent once
more set up on shore, and after a good night's rest we started off to
explore the open wooded country around the beautiful falls close at
hand.

We left Cross in camp with the Indian, and his wife eagerly started with
us as guide, leading us through lovely patches of forest and open glade
till we were well above the falls, and where the little stream now
glided slowly along.

"It looks as if we're to find the quetzal at last," said my uncle
softly; "the woman seems so confident."

"I hope so," I said; "for if ever there was a beautiful home for a bird
it ought to be here."

We had hardly spoken before Mapah, who was some distance ahead, stopped,
held up her hand, and stole back, signing for us to take her place and
go forward.

We cocked our guns and stepped cautiously on, to find ourselves at the
edge of an opening where no less than five of the lovely birds we sought
were perched, each on a dead bough, with plumage absolutely glittering
in the sun-rays, which shot through, just as the flashing scale of the
humming-bird sends forth its gleams of broken light.

Every now and then one darted out into the full sunshine in chase of
butterfly or beetle, its loose tail-feathers spreading out comet-like
and waving in the clear air.

The scene was so striking that for some time we stood bending forward
watching the birds and their actions, every movement showing their
glorious plumage in a fresh light, and but one feeling was upon us--that
it was like sacrilege to destroy creatures so exquisitely perfect.  At
last, though, the naturalist and collector prevailed.  We had come
thousands of miles to secure specimens of these birds for English
museums, and have them we must.

I started as from a dream on seeing my uncle move.

"Going to fire, uncle?"  I said.

"Yes, Nat," he replied, with something like a sigh; "we must have a few
to take back."

He raised his gun, but lowered it again, and looked at me, while I
looked at him.

"Was it all a dream?" he said hoarsely.

"Surely not, uncle," I cried, as I stared about the opening, where not a
bird was to be seen.

But we had proof directly that it was no dream, for Pete, who was
holding the spare guns, cried excitedly:

"Oh, I say!  You've let 'em go!"

In the days which followed we were less sentimental, getting, in the
neighbourhood of where we had seen them first, specimen after specimen
in the most perfect plumage, till we felt that it would be like a crime
to shoot down more.

"Let's get away from the temptation, Nat," said my uncle, and the very
next day we started back, intent now on the one thought of getting our
treasures safely home.

We parted from our Indian companions a fortnight later, sending them
ashore with our guide's wound so nearly cured that he could limp about
easily.  They were laden with presents--Uncle Dick's patient proud of
the grandest prize he evidently thought a man could possess, to wit, the
carpenter's axe; and his wife rejoicing in a leather housewife of
needles and thread, a pair of good useful scissors, and my old silver
watch, hung by its chain round her tawny neck--her great joy being in a
child-like way to hold it to her ear after winding up to listen to its
ticking.

Bill Cross made a set of new cases when he reached Port Royal for the
careful packing of the skins in our glorious collection, and he and Pete
parted from us with every sign of regret.

"I thought my tools might come in useful, gentlemen," he said, smiling.

"I don't know what we should have done without you, Cross," said my
uncle.

Pete's forehead wrinkled up, and he looked at me wistfully.

"I don't know which was the more useful, Cross," I said, "you or Pete."

"Wish you a safe journey home to the old country, gentlemen," said Pete,
smiling; "and, if ever you're going collecting again and'll take me,
why, I'd come from anywheres the wide world round."

But they did not say good-bye when the vessel in which we had taken our
passage sailed, for the captain was short of hands and gladly took them
on, so that it was at Liverpool we finally parted, for we had what they
wished us, a safe journey home.

"You will take me if you go again, Master Nat?" cried Pete, when we
shook hands.

"Yes, Pete," I said; "I promise you I will."

THE END.






End of Project Gutenberg's Through Forest and Stream, by George Manville Fenn