Chapter Thirty Five.

Chapter Thirty Five.By the Skin of their Teeth.“Murder!” said Wriggs, in a low voice.“That there will be, Billy, if them chaps don’t let us alone. Look here, mate, it aren’t their island; they lives somewheres else, or they wouldn’t want a boat—bah! I don’t call them holler logs boats—to get here. Who are they, I should like to know? Just a-cause we’re ashore, and can’t get our ship afloat they think they’re going to do just what they please with us. But we’ve got guns, Billy, and we know how to use ’em, mate, and if they think as they’re going to collar off all there is aboard thePlanet, they’re jolly well out of their reckoning, eh, Billy?”Smith had by this time shifted himself to his messmate’s side and was looking at him earnestly, but Wriggs did not stir, he only rested his chin upon his hands and stared hard at the two canoes.“Now, then, d’yer hear what I said?”Wriggs gave a short nod.“Well, say something, then. What’cher thinking about?”“I was a thinking, Tommy, as it warn’t no use for you to go on talking, when we ought to be toddlin’ back and telling the three gents as we’re in a mess.”“Well, there is something in that, Billy. What d’yer say, then, shall we run and tell ’em?”“No, Tommy; if we gets up and begins to run, them crystal minstrel chaps’ll see us, and come arter us like hooray. We oughter congeal ourselves back again.”“How are we to, when there aren’t no trees to congeal behind?”“This how,” said Wriggs. “I’m off. You foller arter me same way.”As soon as he had done speaking, he laid his gun close down by his side and began to roll himself over and over with such rapidity that he was some yards away before Smith thought of imitating his action.“Well, this here is a rum ’un,” he grumbled. “I never thought when I come to sea as I should have to turn myself into a garden roller. But one never knows!”He began rolling himself as fast as he could after Wriggs, and at last, after they both had to correct several divergences from their proper course, they approached the two friends, who were seated beneath a tree.“Look, Panton!” cried Drew, excitedly.“What at?”“Those two fellows. They must have found and been eating some poisonous kind of berry. They’ve gone mad.”“More likely been breathing some bad volcanic gas. Here, I say, you two, what’s the matter with you?” he cried, as Wriggs rolled close up to him, and stopped to lie with his mouth open, staring, but too giddy to speak.“I thought so,” said Drew. “We must get them back to the ship and give them something.”At that moment Smith rolled up, and lay giddy and staring.“Here, you two: can’t you speak? What’s the matter with you?”Wriggs pointed at Smith, as much as to say, “Ask him,” and when the friends looked in his direction, Smith nodded at Wriggs.“We must get back,” cried Panton. “Ahoy–y–y–y! Lane! Ahoy–y–y–y–y!” he shouted.“Don’t, sir! don’t!” cried Wriggs, in a choking voice.“Why not?” cried Drew. “What’s the matter with you? Here, try and get up.”“No, no, sir,” they cried in duet.“Then, what is it?”“Niggers, sir,” gasped Smith. “Comin’ ashore!”“Quick, close under cover!” said Panton, and all crawled under the shade of the nearest tree.“Now, where are they?” said Panton.“You can’t see ’em from here, sir, but we saw the whole lot on ’em in two canoes, a comin’ on like steam, and they’ll be here afore many minutes have gone.”“Quick, then!” cried Panton. “Here, you are best at it, Smith. Hail Mr Lane as loudly as you can.”The man stared at him.“Hail him, sir, with that there lot o’ black ruffyians just landing! Why, it’s saying to ’em, ‘Here we are, my lads; come an’ catch us.’”“Of course! You are right,” cried Panton, excitedly, as he stood wiping his face. “But what are we to do?”“Two of us must try and track him,” said Drew. “Do you think they heard me shouting before?”“Dunno, sir. On’y hope as they didn’t, that’s all, sir,” said Wriggs.“Perhaps they did not,” said Drew, hurriedly. “But look here, Lane can’t have gone far, he was too weak to make much of a journey. Here, Wriggs, come with me. You two keep quite close in hiding.”At that moment from one of the trees at the edge of the forest, there rang out the hoarse, cawing cry of one of the paradise birds, and directly after they saw that a little flock had taken flight, and were crossing the open land to make for the forest, far away toward the slope of the mountain.A sudden thought inspired Drew, and signing to his companions, he put his hands close to his lips and gave vent to a very fair imitation of the bird’s note. In fact, so close was it, that they saw a couple of birds in the little flock wheel round and come back over their heads, till evidently detecting that it was a deceit, they flew off again.“There; what’s the good of that, man?” cried Panton, angrily. “You couldn’t deceive them.”“No, but I may trick poor Lane. He’ll think it is some of the birds, and come back eagerly to try and shoot one.”“Bah!” ejaculated Panton; but Drew took no heed of his impatient, angry manner. Putting his hands to his mouth again, he produced a capital imitation of the bird’s call note, and then stood listening.There was no rustling of the undergrowth, though, nor sign of an eager white face peering out of the dim twilight among the great shadowy tree-trunks, but a noise arose from the distance, which sent a thrill through every one present, and made all strain their ears in the direction of the shore, for it was the murmur of a crowd.It was a strange, awe-inspiring sound, suggesting a horrible death at the hands of merciless savages, and, acting under one impulse, the two sailors glanced at Panton, and Drew saw plainly enough their startled look of horror, as they turned and ran as hard as they could go back along the edge of the forest toward the brig.“The cowardly hounds!” said Panton, between his teeth, and he involuntarily cocked his gun. “I could find it in my heart to send a charge of shot after them.”“Let them go,” cried Drew, bitterly. “We must hide here in the forest. They will warn Mr Rimmer, and perhaps it’s best.”He finished his speech with the loudwok, wok, wawkagain.“Do stop that abominable row,” cried Panton, whom the weakness had made irritable. “You’ll bring the niggers straight to us.”“I sha’n’t stop it,” said Drew, coolly, and he repeated the call. “There!” he cried triumphantly, “that was it, exactly.”“Pish!” said Panton.“I told you so,” said Drew, excitedly, as the murmur of the approaching Papuans came nearer, and at the same moment there was a rushing of wings, as half a dozen large birds perched in one of the trees and gave proof of the exactitude of the botanist’s imitation by answering loudly, as if to say, “Who was it called?”Meanwhile Smith and Wriggs had run as hard as they could go for about a hundred and fifty yards, and then, once more moved by the same impulse, they pulled up short.“Woa hoa! Woa ho a ho!” said Smith, in a deep, smothered voice.“Avast below there,” cried Wriggs, panting hard. “Stopped ’em at last, Billy,” said Smith. “Ay, and mine too, Tommy; I never see such a cowardly pair o’ legs afore, did you?”“Yes, matey, mine’s the worstest, for they begun it and started yourn. Think on ’em, running away and taking us along with ’em, leaving one’s officers in the lurch like that.”“Ay, ’nuff to make a man wish as they was wooden legs, Tommy, eh?”“Or cork, messmet. But don’t jaw, Billy. Let ’em have it. Make the beggars run as they never run afore. Come on back again.”The two men took hold of hands and ran back as hard as ever they could go to where Panton and Drew were standing, and as they came up the flock of Paradise birds flew off again, and the murmur of the Papuans’ voices sounded very near.“Then you thought better of it,” said Panton, fiercely.“Nay, sir, never thought at all,” replied Smith, stolidly. “Did you ever see two pair of such legs as these here?” and he gave his thighs each a tremendous slap, Wriggs following his example.“What do you mean?” said Panton, roughly.“Wawk, wawk, wawk, wawk, wawk!” cried Drew, with his face turned to the forest.“That we didn’t, sir,” said Smith, indignantly. “They took the bit in their teeth and bolted just like hosses, and run; there warn’t no walk about it, or I wouldn’t ha’ minded it so much. But we pulled up as soon as we could, didn’t we, Billy?”“Ay, mate, that’s so,” growled Wriggs. “But hadn’t we better stow under kiver? Them charcoal chaps is getting precious nigh.”“What! are you going to stop?” said Panton.“Yes, sir, course we is,” said Smith, in an ill-used way. “We couldn’t help it if our legs warn’t under control. You don’t know, p’raps, but I do, and Billy Wriggs too, what trouble a man’s legs’ll get him in. Why, I’ve known Billy’s legs take him ashore to a public-house, and then they’ve got in such a nasty state o’ what Mr Rimmer calls tossication, that they couldn’t stand. Didn’t they, Billy?”“Ay, Tommy, they did, lad,” growled Wriggs; “but speak the truth, messmate, and don’t keep nought back. Yourn was just as bad.”“Wuss, Billy, ever so much, and I was quite ashamed to take ’em on board again. Oh, murder! Look-ye there!” Smith exclaimed, in a hoarse whisper, and he dropped down flat.“Legs again!” growled Wriggs, following his example, one that the others were not slow to adopt, for all at once the heads of several spears came into view, and hardly had the little party crept well under cover before there was a sudden burst of voices, and they could see the black faces of a crowd of Papuans advancing.There was very little cover, and, to the horror of all, they saw and heard that the enemy had what the military would term flankers out, in shape of a couple of men at each end of their line; and while the main body kept along out in the open, the scouts at the right forced their way through the undergrowth and among the trees at the edge of the forest.Those were crucial minutes, and both Panton and Drew felt that at any moment they might be seen, for two naked figures came nearer and nearer through the trees, till their white eyeballs and glistening teeth could be seen plainly, and as Panton crouched there, with his piece convulsively clutched in his hands, he felt certain that one of the men saw him plainly, and was striding to get nearer, so as to be within reach for a deadly thrust with his spear.On and on he came, glaring straight before him, holding his weapon carefully poised, and in utter ignorance of how near he was to death, for at the slightest gesture Panton would have drawn trigger and shot the savage in his track, a charge of bird shot at so short a distance being as effectual as a bullet.“It will be an enemy the less,” he thought, and at one instant he had determined upon firing and making sure before the man thrust at him with his spear.Just then there was a faint crack as of a twig being sharply broken, and the savage turned quickly round to stand in an attitude of attention, poised spear in one hand, bow and arrows in the other, ready to throw or strike as the need might be.Panton and his companions lay and crouched there, breathlessly, all trembling with excitement, not with dread. For the same thought as now invaded Panton’s breast came to Drew’s—that it was Oliver Lane, attracted by the imitation of the bird’s cry, making his way back into a horrible trap.As if moved by the same muscles, two barrels rose slowly to a horizontal position, and fingers were upon triggers ready to press the mechanism and pour the deadly contents into the savage the moment he raised his hand to strike or took step forward to get a better aim.Never was man nearer death, for all thought of the danger to self was non-existent. All the two young men had in their minds was that poor Oliver Lane must be saved, and, if guns had carried truly, the black would have fallen.The shots would have brought the enemy upon them with a rush, but neither thought of that, and so they waited, watching the naked back of the savage, above which appeared his head, with the hair gummed and matted out to a tremendous size, somewhat resembling the cap of a grenadier officer, though looking larger in the forest gloom.But no further token of another presence was heard, and after waiting, watchful and alert, for the next sound, the savage looked about keenly, and then turned, gave a sharp look round, and continued his course, seeming as if; with all his acuteness, the cracking stick had so taken off his attention that he completely overlooked the danger within a few yards of where he stood.Just then there was a low call from the main body of the enemy, which the man answered, and the next minute he had, with his companions, passed on out of sight, leaving the hidden party at liberty to breathe freely.

“Murder!” said Wriggs, in a low voice.

“That there will be, Billy, if them chaps don’t let us alone. Look here, mate, it aren’t their island; they lives somewheres else, or they wouldn’t want a boat—bah! I don’t call them holler logs boats—to get here. Who are they, I should like to know? Just a-cause we’re ashore, and can’t get our ship afloat they think they’re going to do just what they please with us. But we’ve got guns, Billy, and we know how to use ’em, mate, and if they think as they’re going to collar off all there is aboard thePlanet, they’re jolly well out of their reckoning, eh, Billy?”

Smith had by this time shifted himself to his messmate’s side and was looking at him earnestly, but Wriggs did not stir, he only rested his chin upon his hands and stared hard at the two canoes.

“Now, then, d’yer hear what I said?”

Wriggs gave a short nod.

“Well, say something, then. What’cher thinking about?”

“I was a thinking, Tommy, as it warn’t no use for you to go on talking, when we ought to be toddlin’ back and telling the three gents as we’re in a mess.”

“Well, there is something in that, Billy. What d’yer say, then, shall we run and tell ’em?”

“No, Tommy; if we gets up and begins to run, them crystal minstrel chaps’ll see us, and come arter us like hooray. We oughter congeal ourselves back again.”

“How are we to, when there aren’t no trees to congeal behind?”

“This how,” said Wriggs. “I’m off. You foller arter me same way.”

As soon as he had done speaking, he laid his gun close down by his side and began to roll himself over and over with such rapidity that he was some yards away before Smith thought of imitating his action.

“Well, this here is a rum ’un,” he grumbled. “I never thought when I come to sea as I should have to turn myself into a garden roller. But one never knows!”

He began rolling himself as fast as he could after Wriggs, and at last, after they both had to correct several divergences from their proper course, they approached the two friends, who were seated beneath a tree.

“Look, Panton!” cried Drew, excitedly.

“What at?”

“Those two fellows. They must have found and been eating some poisonous kind of berry. They’ve gone mad.”

“More likely been breathing some bad volcanic gas. Here, I say, you two, what’s the matter with you?” he cried, as Wriggs rolled close up to him, and stopped to lie with his mouth open, staring, but too giddy to speak.

“I thought so,” said Drew. “We must get them back to the ship and give them something.”

At that moment Smith rolled up, and lay giddy and staring.

“Here, you two: can’t you speak? What’s the matter with you?”

Wriggs pointed at Smith, as much as to say, “Ask him,” and when the friends looked in his direction, Smith nodded at Wriggs.

“We must get back,” cried Panton. “Ahoy–y–y–y! Lane! Ahoy–y–y–y–y!” he shouted.

“Don’t, sir! don’t!” cried Wriggs, in a choking voice.

“Why not?” cried Drew. “What’s the matter with you? Here, try and get up.”

“No, no, sir,” they cried in duet.

“Then, what is it?”

“Niggers, sir,” gasped Smith. “Comin’ ashore!”

“Quick, close under cover!” said Panton, and all crawled under the shade of the nearest tree.

“Now, where are they?” said Panton.

“You can’t see ’em from here, sir, but we saw the whole lot on ’em in two canoes, a comin’ on like steam, and they’ll be here afore many minutes have gone.”

“Quick, then!” cried Panton. “Here, you are best at it, Smith. Hail Mr Lane as loudly as you can.”

The man stared at him.

“Hail him, sir, with that there lot o’ black ruffyians just landing! Why, it’s saying to ’em, ‘Here we are, my lads; come an’ catch us.’”

“Of course! You are right,” cried Panton, excitedly, as he stood wiping his face. “But what are we to do?”

“Two of us must try and track him,” said Drew. “Do you think they heard me shouting before?”

“Dunno, sir. On’y hope as they didn’t, that’s all, sir,” said Wriggs.

“Perhaps they did not,” said Drew, hurriedly. “But look here, Lane can’t have gone far, he was too weak to make much of a journey. Here, Wriggs, come with me. You two keep quite close in hiding.”

At that moment from one of the trees at the edge of the forest, there rang out the hoarse, cawing cry of one of the paradise birds, and directly after they saw that a little flock had taken flight, and were crossing the open land to make for the forest, far away toward the slope of the mountain.

A sudden thought inspired Drew, and signing to his companions, he put his hands close to his lips and gave vent to a very fair imitation of the bird’s note. In fact, so close was it, that they saw a couple of birds in the little flock wheel round and come back over their heads, till evidently detecting that it was a deceit, they flew off again.

“There; what’s the good of that, man?” cried Panton, angrily. “You couldn’t deceive them.”

“No, but I may trick poor Lane. He’ll think it is some of the birds, and come back eagerly to try and shoot one.”

“Bah!” ejaculated Panton; but Drew took no heed of his impatient, angry manner. Putting his hands to his mouth again, he produced a capital imitation of the bird’s call note, and then stood listening.

There was no rustling of the undergrowth, though, nor sign of an eager white face peering out of the dim twilight among the great shadowy tree-trunks, but a noise arose from the distance, which sent a thrill through every one present, and made all strain their ears in the direction of the shore, for it was the murmur of a crowd.

It was a strange, awe-inspiring sound, suggesting a horrible death at the hands of merciless savages, and, acting under one impulse, the two sailors glanced at Panton, and Drew saw plainly enough their startled look of horror, as they turned and ran as hard as they could go back along the edge of the forest toward the brig.

“The cowardly hounds!” said Panton, between his teeth, and he involuntarily cocked his gun. “I could find it in my heart to send a charge of shot after them.”

“Let them go,” cried Drew, bitterly. “We must hide here in the forest. They will warn Mr Rimmer, and perhaps it’s best.”

He finished his speech with the loudwok, wok, wawkagain.

“Do stop that abominable row,” cried Panton, whom the weakness had made irritable. “You’ll bring the niggers straight to us.”

“I sha’n’t stop it,” said Drew, coolly, and he repeated the call. “There!” he cried triumphantly, “that was it, exactly.”

“Pish!” said Panton.

“I told you so,” said Drew, excitedly, as the murmur of the approaching Papuans came nearer, and at the same moment there was a rushing of wings, as half a dozen large birds perched in one of the trees and gave proof of the exactitude of the botanist’s imitation by answering loudly, as if to say, “Who was it called?”

Meanwhile Smith and Wriggs had run as hard as they could go for about a hundred and fifty yards, and then, once more moved by the same impulse, they pulled up short.

“Woa hoa! Woa ho a ho!” said Smith, in a deep, smothered voice.

“Avast below there,” cried Wriggs, panting hard. “Stopped ’em at last, Billy,” said Smith. “Ay, and mine too, Tommy; I never see such a cowardly pair o’ legs afore, did you?”

“Yes, matey, mine’s the worstest, for they begun it and started yourn. Think on ’em, running away and taking us along with ’em, leaving one’s officers in the lurch like that.”

“Ay, ’nuff to make a man wish as they was wooden legs, Tommy, eh?”

“Or cork, messmet. But don’t jaw, Billy. Let ’em have it. Make the beggars run as they never run afore. Come on back again.”

The two men took hold of hands and ran back as hard as ever they could go to where Panton and Drew were standing, and as they came up the flock of Paradise birds flew off again, and the murmur of the Papuans’ voices sounded very near.

“Then you thought better of it,” said Panton, fiercely.

“Nay, sir, never thought at all,” replied Smith, stolidly. “Did you ever see two pair of such legs as these here?” and he gave his thighs each a tremendous slap, Wriggs following his example.

“What do you mean?” said Panton, roughly.

“Wawk, wawk, wawk, wawk, wawk!” cried Drew, with his face turned to the forest.

“That we didn’t, sir,” said Smith, indignantly. “They took the bit in their teeth and bolted just like hosses, and run; there warn’t no walk about it, or I wouldn’t ha’ minded it so much. But we pulled up as soon as we could, didn’t we, Billy?”

“Ay, mate, that’s so,” growled Wriggs. “But hadn’t we better stow under kiver? Them charcoal chaps is getting precious nigh.”

“What! are you going to stop?” said Panton.

“Yes, sir, course we is,” said Smith, in an ill-used way. “We couldn’t help it if our legs warn’t under control. You don’t know, p’raps, but I do, and Billy Wriggs too, what trouble a man’s legs’ll get him in. Why, I’ve known Billy’s legs take him ashore to a public-house, and then they’ve got in such a nasty state o’ what Mr Rimmer calls tossication, that they couldn’t stand. Didn’t they, Billy?”

“Ay, Tommy, they did, lad,” growled Wriggs; “but speak the truth, messmate, and don’t keep nought back. Yourn was just as bad.”

“Wuss, Billy, ever so much, and I was quite ashamed to take ’em on board again. Oh, murder! Look-ye there!” Smith exclaimed, in a hoarse whisper, and he dropped down flat.

“Legs again!” growled Wriggs, following his example, one that the others were not slow to adopt, for all at once the heads of several spears came into view, and hardly had the little party crept well under cover before there was a sudden burst of voices, and they could see the black faces of a crowd of Papuans advancing.

There was very little cover, and, to the horror of all, they saw and heard that the enemy had what the military would term flankers out, in shape of a couple of men at each end of their line; and while the main body kept along out in the open, the scouts at the right forced their way through the undergrowth and among the trees at the edge of the forest.

Those were crucial minutes, and both Panton and Drew felt that at any moment they might be seen, for two naked figures came nearer and nearer through the trees, till their white eyeballs and glistening teeth could be seen plainly, and as Panton crouched there, with his piece convulsively clutched in his hands, he felt certain that one of the men saw him plainly, and was striding to get nearer, so as to be within reach for a deadly thrust with his spear.

On and on he came, glaring straight before him, holding his weapon carefully poised, and in utter ignorance of how near he was to death, for at the slightest gesture Panton would have drawn trigger and shot the savage in his track, a charge of bird shot at so short a distance being as effectual as a bullet.

“It will be an enemy the less,” he thought, and at one instant he had determined upon firing and making sure before the man thrust at him with his spear.

Just then there was a faint crack as of a twig being sharply broken, and the savage turned quickly round to stand in an attitude of attention, poised spear in one hand, bow and arrows in the other, ready to throw or strike as the need might be.

Panton and his companions lay and crouched there, breathlessly, all trembling with excitement, not with dread. For the same thought as now invaded Panton’s breast came to Drew’s—that it was Oliver Lane, attracted by the imitation of the bird’s cry, making his way back into a horrible trap.

As if moved by the same muscles, two barrels rose slowly to a horizontal position, and fingers were upon triggers ready to press the mechanism and pour the deadly contents into the savage the moment he raised his hand to strike or took step forward to get a better aim.

Never was man nearer death, for all thought of the danger to self was non-existent. All the two young men had in their minds was that poor Oliver Lane must be saved, and, if guns had carried truly, the black would have fallen.

The shots would have brought the enemy upon them with a rush, but neither thought of that, and so they waited, watching the naked back of the savage, above which appeared his head, with the hair gummed and matted out to a tremendous size, somewhat resembling the cap of a grenadier officer, though looking larger in the forest gloom.

But no further token of another presence was heard, and after waiting, watchful and alert, for the next sound, the savage looked about keenly, and then turned, gave a sharp look round, and continued his course, seeming as if; with all his acuteness, the cracking stick had so taken off his attention that he completely overlooked the danger within a few yards of where he stood.

Just then there was a low call from the main body of the enemy, which the man answered, and the next minute he had, with his companions, passed on out of sight, leaving the hidden party at liberty to breathe freely.

Chapter Thirty Six.Tommy Smith as a Forlorn Hope.“What an escape!” exclaimed Drew at last.“Yes,” said Panton, wiping the cold perspiration from his brow, “for him, too.”“But what next?” exclaimed Drew. “I’m thinking about poor Rimmer. Can’t one of us get round through the forest before them, and warn them on board the brig? It will be horrible for them to be surprised.”“You know we can’t get through these trees,” said Panton sadly, “and it would take a day if we could. But Rimmer won’t be surprised.”“No, I hope not,” said Drew. “We ought to have sent a man back to warn him.”“We meant to go ourselves, only we couldn’t leave poor Lane in the lurch.”“No,” said Drew, with a sigh. “Do you think it’s safe yet to imitate the birds again?”“No, I don’t,” said Panton, sharply. “You’ll bring the enemy back upon us if you do that. Now, then, at all hazards we must go in search of him. I’m afraid he has broken down from the exertion.”“No, he hasn’t,” said a voice in a low tone, and to the intense delight of all, Lane raised his head from the ground, so that they could see his face all torn and bleeding, from its owner having had to force his way as he crawled through the dense creepers at the edge of the forest.“Thank heaven!” cried Panton, and he let his head drop down upon his hands in his weakness produced by long suffering and over-exertion.“Then you saw the savages?” said Drew, excitedly.“Yes. I was creeping in this direction, to get a shot at some of the paradise birds which I heard calling, when I came suddenly upon a black, and in endeavouring to crawl silently away, a piece of wood snapped under my hand and made the man turn toward me. I had to be perfectly still for a long time before he went on. Are there any more?”“Fifty at least, so the men say,” replied Panton, recovering himself. “But are you at all hurt?”“Only scratched and done up. I feel so weak. But what are you going to do?”“Crawl back through the edge of the forest till we are near the brig, and then wait till night—if we escape notice. Seems the best way.”“And then,” said Oliver, “if they make an attack on the brig, we can take them in flank or rear, perhaps scare them off.”“Beg pardon, sir,” said Smith. “It’s only a sort of a kind o’ disgestion like as you can do or no, but them beggars has left their boats. How would it be for us to go down to the shore and grab one and sink t’other? Then we should be free to sail away where we liked.”“Without provisions, compass, or water?” said Panton, drily.“And leave our friends in the lurch?” said Drew.“O’ course,” said Smith, scratching his head. “That’s the wust o’ my dis—suggestions; there’s allus a screw loose or suthin’ wrong about ’em, so as they won’t hold water.”“Allus,” said Wriggs, solemnly.“Deal you know about it,” growled Smith. “Don’t you get a shovin’ your oar in that how. P’raps you’ve got a better hidear? ’Cause if you have, let it off at once for the gents to hear. I on’y said what I thought.”“Quite right, Smith,” interposed Lane. “Don’t be cross about it, because the idea will not work.”“Oh, no, sir, I ar’n’t cross and I ar’n’t a-goin’ to be cross, but I don’t like it when Billy Wriggs will be so jolly clever and get thinking as he knows every blessed thing as there is in life. He don’t propose any good things, do he?”“No, Tommy, I don’t,” said Wriggs, quietly. “It ar’n’t in my way o’ business. Ropes and swabbing and pullin’ a oar or setting of a sail’s more in my line, mate.”“That will do,” said Oliver, firmly, and somehow, though he was yet weak and rather helpless from the injury he had received, he dropped at once into a way of taking the lead, unchallenged by either of his elder companions.“Now, then,” he continued, “is there any better plan? Silence! Then we’ll try the one we have before us, and follow cautiously in the savages’ track.”“How do you feel, Lane?” said Panton in a whisper, as they two stood together during a halt.“Tired and hot.”“So do I, but I didn’t mean that. Do you feel fighty?”“Fighty? No; not at all. Rather, as if I should like to run away.”“That’s frank,” said Panton.“Well, it’s the truth. I’m weak and done up, and I don’t think I’m one of the fighting sort. It doesn’t seem nice either to shoot at human beings, but I suppose we shall have to.”“Yes, it’s their lives or ours, my lad; but as you say, it’s not nice. You won’t think me a coward, will you, if I tell you that I feel just the same as you do?”“Hush! don’t talk,” whispered Drew, who was a little way in front, keeping a sharp look-out, “I don’t think they are far ahead. Ready to go on?”“Yes,” said the others in a breath, and the toilsome march was resumed, Drew, as the lightest and most active, going in front, the two sailors following, and Oliver Lane and Panton, as the weakest of the party, bringing up the rear.The sun beat down with tremendous force, but the heat was forgotten in the excitement, as, forced by circumstances to imitate the savages, the little party crept cautiously on, taking advantage of every bit of cover and keeping well in under the shade of the trees at the edge of the forest. At any moment it was felt that they might come upon the rear of the enemy, when, if undiscovered, the aim was to remain in hiding. If seen, Drew proposed to wait until there was any attack, and then fire; the others to follow, taking their cue from him, and without hurrying, following one another, so as to give those who fired first time to reload and continue a steady fusillade. This, it was hoped, would drive the savage crew into confusion and enable the party to get on to where they would be opposite to the brig, when they could rush across without running the risk of being fired at by their friends, who would have had fair warning of their approach and be ready to help them.These were their plans, but everything depended upon the Papuans, who had unaccountably disappeared.For it seemed to all that they ought to have been overtaken some time before, whereas they had for some time seen no sign of them, nor heard so much as a whisper.All at once, when they were still quite a mile from the brig, and while Oliver was being tortured by opportunities for acquiring magnificent specimens of butterfly and bird of which he could not avail himself, Drew stopped short, and let the others come close up to where he was crouching beneath the huge leaves of a dwarf palm.“I dare not go any further,” he whispered, “for I feel certain that we are walking right into a trap.”“Why?” asked Oliver. “You say you have neither seen nor heard anything of them.”“I can’t tell you, but somehow I feel as if they are lying in ambush, waiting for us, and I can’t lead you on to your death.”These words acted like a chill to all, and for the full space of a minute there was utter silence. Then Oliver spoke.“I feel so weak and helpless, that I do not like to make proposals,” he said, “but how would it be to try and play boldly?”“How?” asked Panton.“By taking the initiative and attacking.”“Madness,” said Drew.“I don’t know that. Our shots would let Mr Rimmer know that we are in danger. It is too far-off to make him hear the boatswain’s whistle. As soon as he knew he would come to our help, and we should have the enemy then between two fires. They would be scared, and either throw down their arms or take to the woods.”There was silence again after these words, and then Panton spoke.“Won’t do, Lane,” he said. “You speak as if you were as strong as Smith or Wriggs here, and all the time you are as helpless and weak as I.”“Yes,” said Drew. “It is like being only three to attack fifty.”Oliver was silent, for he felt the force of his companion’s remark.“Like to send me or Billy Wriggs on ahead, gentlemen?” said Smith.“What for, man?” said Panton, impatiently.“I don’t quite zackly know, sir, but I’ve got a brother as is a soger, and he was a tellin’ me that when they fight the niggers up in the hills, where they shuts themselves up strong behind stone walls, with lots o’ big ones ready to chuck down on them as comes to attack, they sends some one fust, and calls him a f’lorn hope. I don’t quite know what good it is, but I’ll go and be a f’lorn hope if you like, or so would Billy Wriggs here. P’r’aps he’d do butter, sir, for he’s a more mizz’able-looking chap than me.”Panton smiled.“It’s very good and brave of you, my lad,” he said.“Oh, don’t you make no mistake about that, sir,” said Smith, shaking his head. “I’m only a sailor, and not a soger, and not brave at all.”“Speak the truth, Tommy,” said Wriggs, in a tone of protest.“Well, that is the truth, Billy; I ar’n’t what you call a brave chap, and I can’t fight a bit till some one hurts me, and then I s’pose I do let go, ’cause you see I feel nasty and sawage like, but that ar’n’t being brave.”“Don’t you believe him, gents,” growled Wriggs; “he is a brave chap when his monkey’s up. You can’t hold him then.”“Yah, don’t talk stuff, my lad,” said Smith, bashfully. “How can a chap be brave as has got two legs as runs away with him as soon as he’s scared?”“Hush!” whispered Drew, “we are talking too loudly. Look here, Lane, and you, Panton: we had better wait for the darkness, and then take our chance of making a dash for the brig.”“And spend all these weary hours in this heat without water. It would be horrible.”“Lie down, and try and pass the time in sleep, while we watch.”“She’s at it again, sir,” whispered Wriggs, with bated breath, as he made a clutch at his messmate and held on tightly, for a curious heaving sensation, as of a wave passing beneath them, was felt, followed by a deep booming roar from northward.“Ay,” whispered Smith, “and if she’d suck one o’ them big waves ashore and make a clean sweep o’ these charcoal chaps, she’d be doing some good.”“That’s so, messmate,” growled Wriggs, “for black-skins as can’t live in a beautiful country without wantin’ to kill and eat their neighbours, oughtn’t to be ’lowed to live at all, that’s what I says about them. Here, hold tight!”He set the example by throwing his arms about a young tree, for there was a peculiar rushing sound as the earth quivered and the trees of the forest bent over and seemed as if stricken by some tremendous blast, though all the time there was not a breath of air.Then they became conscious of a black cloud rising over the forest beyond the clearing, as if the precursor of some fresh eruption.“I say, Billy,” whispered Smith, “oughtn’t this here to scare them sawages?”“I should say so,” replied the other; “all I know is that it scares me.”“Hist—hist!” whispered Drew, as he pointed forward and signed to the others to lie close, for from out of the edge of the forest, about a hundred yards in front, a black head was thrust forth from among the trees.It was a strange and incongruous sight. Between the hiding party and the black scout of the savages there ran a high wall of dazzling green of many tints, bright flowers hung clustering down, the dazzling sun shone from the vivid blue sky, and every now and then bird and butterfly of effulgent hue flitted before their sight; while there, just beyond this strip of glorious beauty, there was the hideous black grotesque head of the Papuan, evidently scanning the side of the forest back towards where they were hidden.The next minute he had drawn back, but only to spring out with a shout, brandishing his club, while his cry was taken up by fifty throats, as with a roar the whole band rushed into sight, and dashed down towards where the little party lay.

“What an escape!” exclaimed Drew at last.

“Yes,” said Panton, wiping the cold perspiration from his brow, “for him, too.”

“But what next?” exclaimed Drew. “I’m thinking about poor Rimmer. Can’t one of us get round through the forest before them, and warn them on board the brig? It will be horrible for them to be surprised.”

“You know we can’t get through these trees,” said Panton sadly, “and it would take a day if we could. But Rimmer won’t be surprised.”

“No, I hope not,” said Drew. “We ought to have sent a man back to warn him.”

“We meant to go ourselves, only we couldn’t leave poor Lane in the lurch.”

“No,” said Drew, with a sigh. “Do you think it’s safe yet to imitate the birds again?”

“No, I don’t,” said Panton, sharply. “You’ll bring the enemy back upon us if you do that. Now, then, at all hazards we must go in search of him. I’m afraid he has broken down from the exertion.”

“No, he hasn’t,” said a voice in a low tone, and to the intense delight of all, Lane raised his head from the ground, so that they could see his face all torn and bleeding, from its owner having had to force his way as he crawled through the dense creepers at the edge of the forest.

“Thank heaven!” cried Panton, and he let his head drop down upon his hands in his weakness produced by long suffering and over-exertion.

“Then you saw the savages?” said Drew, excitedly.

“Yes. I was creeping in this direction, to get a shot at some of the paradise birds which I heard calling, when I came suddenly upon a black, and in endeavouring to crawl silently away, a piece of wood snapped under my hand and made the man turn toward me. I had to be perfectly still for a long time before he went on. Are there any more?”

“Fifty at least, so the men say,” replied Panton, recovering himself. “But are you at all hurt?”

“Only scratched and done up. I feel so weak. But what are you going to do?”

“Crawl back through the edge of the forest till we are near the brig, and then wait till night—if we escape notice. Seems the best way.”

“And then,” said Oliver, “if they make an attack on the brig, we can take them in flank or rear, perhaps scare them off.”

“Beg pardon, sir,” said Smith. “It’s only a sort of a kind o’ disgestion like as you can do or no, but them beggars has left their boats. How would it be for us to go down to the shore and grab one and sink t’other? Then we should be free to sail away where we liked.”

“Without provisions, compass, or water?” said Panton, drily.

“And leave our friends in the lurch?” said Drew.

“O’ course,” said Smith, scratching his head. “That’s the wust o’ my dis—suggestions; there’s allus a screw loose or suthin’ wrong about ’em, so as they won’t hold water.”

“Allus,” said Wriggs, solemnly.

“Deal you know about it,” growled Smith. “Don’t you get a shovin’ your oar in that how. P’raps you’ve got a better hidear? ’Cause if you have, let it off at once for the gents to hear. I on’y said what I thought.”

“Quite right, Smith,” interposed Lane. “Don’t be cross about it, because the idea will not work.”

“Oh, no, sir, I ar’n’t cross and I ar’n’t a-goin’ to be cross, but I don’t like it when Billy Wriggs will be so jolly clever and get thinking as he knows every blessed thing as there is in life. He don’t propose any good things, do he?”

“No, Tommy, I don’t,” said Wriggs, quietly. “It ar’n’t in my way o’ business. Ropes and swabbing and pullin’ a oar or setting of a sail’s more in my line, mate.”

“That will do,” said Oliver, firmly, and somehow, though he was yet weak and rather helpless from the injury he had received, he dropped at once into a way of taking the lead, unchallenged by either of his elder companions.

“Now, then,” he continued, “is there any better plan? Silence! Then we’ll try the one we have before us, and follow cautiously in the savages’ track.”

“How do you feel, Lane?” said Panton in a whisper, as they two stood together during a halt.

“Tired and hot.”

“So do I, but I didn’t mean that. Do you feel fighty?”

“Fighty? No; not at all. Rather, as if I should like to run away.”

“That’s frank,” said Panton.

“Well, it’s the truth. I’m weak and done up, and I don’t think I’m one of the fighting sort. It doesn’t seem nice either to shoot at human beings, but I suppose we shall have to.”

“Yes, it’s their lives or ours, my lad; but as you say, it’s not nice. You won’t think me a coward, will you, if I tell you that I feel just the same as you do?”

“Hush! don’t talk,” whispered Drew, who was a little way in front, keeping a sharp look-out, “I don’t think they are far ahead. Ready to go on?”

“Yes,” said the others in a breath, and the toilsome march was resumed, Drew, as the lightest and most active, going in front, the two sailors following, and Oliver Lane and Panton, as the weakest of the party, bringing up the rear.

The sun beat down with tremendous force, but the heat was forgotten in the excitement, as, forced by circumstances to imitate the savages, the little party crept cautiously on, taking advantage of every bit of cover and keeping well in under the shade of the trees at the edge of the forest. At any moment it was felt that they might come upon the rear of the enemy, when, if undiscovered, the aim was to remain in hiding. If seen, Drew proposed to wait until there was any attack, and then fire; the others to follow, taking their cue from him, and without hurrying, following one another, so as to give those who fired first time to reload and continue a steady fusillade. This, it was hoped, would drive the savage crew into confusion and enable the party to get on to where they would be opposite to the brig, when they could rush across without running the risk of being fired at by their friends, who would have had fair warning of their approach and be ready to help them.

These were their plans, but everything depended upon the Papuans, who had unaccountably disappeared.

For it seemed to all that they ought to have been overtaken some time before, whereas they had for some time seen no sign of them, nor heard so much as a whisper.

All at once, when they were still quite a mile from the brig, and while Oliver was being tortured by opportunities for acquiring magnificent specimens of butterfly and bird of which he could not avail himself, Drew stopped short, and let the others come close up to where he was crouching beneath the huge leaves of a dwarf palm.

“I dare not go any further,” he whispered, “for I feel certain that we are walking right into a trap.”

“Why?” asked Oliver. “You say you have neither seen nor heard anything of them.”

“I can’t tell you, but somehow I feel as if they are lying in ambush, waiting for us, and I can’t lead you on to your death.”

These words acted like a chill to all, and for the full space of a minute there was utter silence. Then Oliver spoke.

“I feel so weak and helpless, that I do not like to make proposals,” he said, “but how would it be to try and play boldly?”

“How?” asked Panton.

“By taking the initiative and attacking.”

“Madness,” said Drew.

“I don’t know that. Our shots would let Mr Rimmer know that we are in danger. It is too far-off to make him hear the boatswain’s whistle. As soon as he knew he would come to our help, and we should have the enemy then between two fires. They would be scared, and either throw down their arms or take to the woods.”

There was silence again after these words, and then Panton spoke.

“Won’t do, Lane,” he said. “You speak as if you were as strong as Smith or Wriggs here, and all the time you are as helpless and weak as I.”

“Yes,” said Drew. “It is like being only three to attack fifty.”

Oliver was silent, for he felt the force of his companion’s remark.

“Like to send me or Billy Wriggs on ahead, gentlemen?” said Smith.

“What for, man?” said Panton, impatiently.

“I don’t quite zackly know, sir, but I’ve got a brother as is a soger, and he was a tellin’ me that when they fight the niggers up in the hills, where they shuts themselves up strong behind stone walls, with lots o’ big ones ready to chuck down on them as comes to attack, they sends some one fust, and calls him a f’lorn hope. I don’t quite know what good it is, but I’ll go and be a f’lorn hope if you like, or so would Billy Wriggs here. P’r’aps he’d do butter, sir, for he’s a more mizz’able-looking chap than me.”

Panton smiled.

“It’s very good and brave of you, my lad,” he said.

“Oh, don’t you make no mistake about that, sir,” said Smith, shaking his head. “I’m only a sailor, and not a soger, and not brave at all.”

“Speak the truth, Tommy,” said Wriggs, in a tone of protest.

“Well, that is the truth, Billy; I ar’n’t what you call a brave chap, and I can’t fight a bit till some one hurts me, and then I s’pose I do let go, ’cause you see I feel nasty and sawage like, but that ar’n’t being brave.”

“Don’t you believe him, gents,” growled Wriggs; “he is a brave chap when his monkey’s up. You can’t hold him then.”

“Yah, don’t talk stuff, my lad,” said Smith, bashfully. “How can a chap be brave as has got two legs as runs away with him as soon as he’s scared?”

“Hush!” whispered Drew, “we are talking too loudly. Look here, Lane, and you, Panton: we had better wait for the darkness, and then take our chance of making a dash for the brig.”

“And spend all these weary hours in this heat without water. It would be horrible.”

“Lie down, and try and pass the time in sleep, while we watch.”

“She’s at it again, sir,” whispered Wriggs, with bated breath, as he made a clutch at his messmate and held on tightly, for a curious heaving sensation, as of a wave passing beneath them, was felt, followed by a deep booming roar from northward.

“Ay,” whispered Smith, “and if she’d suck one o’ them big waves ashore and make a clean sweep o’ these charcoal chaps, she’d be doing some good.”

“That’s so, messmate,” growled Wriggs, “for black-skins as can’t live in a beautiful country without wantin’ to kill and eat their neighbours, oughtn’t to be ’lowed to live at all, that’s what I says about them. Here, hold tight!”

He set the example by throwing his arms about a young tree, for there was a peculiar rushing sound as the earth quivered and the trees of the forest bent over and seemed as if stricken by some tremendous blast, though all the time there was not a breath of air.

Then they became conscious of a black cloud rising over the forest beyond the clearing, as if the precursor of some fresh eruption.

“I say, Billy,” whispered Smith, “oughtn’t this here to scare them sawages?”

“I should say so,” replied the other; “all I know is that it scares me.”

“Hist—hist!” whispered Drew, as he pointed forward and signed to the others to lie close, for from out of the edge of the forest, about a hundred yards in front, a black head was thrust forth from among the trees.

It was a strange and incongruous sight. Between the hiding party and the black scout of the savages there ran a high wall of dazzling green of many tints, bright flowers hung clustering down, the dazzling sun shone from the vivid blue sky, and every now and then bird and butterfly of effulgent hue flitted before their sight; while there, just beyond this strip of glorious beauty, there was the hideous black grotesque head of the Papuan, evidently scanning the side of the forest back towards where they were hidden.

The next minute he had drawn back, but only to spring out with a shout, brandishing his club, while his cry was taken up by fifty throats, as with a roar the whole band rushed into sight, and dashed down towards where the little party lay.

Chapter Thirty Seven.Earth’s Mystery at Work.Oliver Lane’s hands trembled and then became steady as the fierce-looking rout of nearly nude savages came rushing on. No words were spoken in those few brief moments, but it was an understood thing among them all that they were to hold their fire till the Papuans were close upon their hiding place, and then to draw trigger together, in the full belief, or rather hope, that the volley they would deliver would check the enemy, and the following fire from the second barrels complete their discomfiture.And so during those moments, as Oliver Lane and his companions watched the on-coming rush—moments which seemed to be drawn-out to quite a reckonable space of time—all waited with levelled piece and finger on trigger for the sudden swerve in amongst them as the savages dashed along the open ground with eyes dilated, teeth gleaming, and a fierce look that betokened little mercy.But the swerve in amongst the trees never came, no weapons were raised by the on-coming foe, and, to the astonishment of the waiting party, the savages dashed by like a human whirlwind till they were some fifty yards onward toward the sea, when they stopped short and wheeled round to stand looking back as if for the enemy from whom they had fled, while Oliver and his party still crouched there, wondering what was to happen next.Then came the explanation of the savages’ action. They were fleeing from an enemy, but it was no human foe. Nature was at work once more. There was a peculiar vibration of the earth, a cracking, rending sound, and the earth opened in a jagged rift which ran on steadily toward the enemy, passing the edge of the forest where the friends lay, and starting the Papuans on again in headlong flight toward their canoe. Then came a deep rumbling from the opening, a hot gush of steamy air and a violent report from away in the direction of the volcano, and silence once more deep and profound.No one spoke for some minutes, as they all strained their ears to catch the returning tramp of the fleeing savages. Then the horror and dread were turned into mirth, perhaps a little hysterical on the part of Oliver and Panton, for Wriggs suddenly rose to his knees, made a derisive gesture with one hand, and then placed it to the side of his mouth and yelled out,—“Yah! Cowards!”“Yes, that’s it, Billy,” said Smith, rising to his knees as well, and brushing away some of the insects which were investigating his person. “They were all scared because the mountain grumbled a bit. What would some of the beggars have done if they’d been where we went the other day?”“Ah, what indeed!” growled Wriggs. “I don’t see as we’ve got much call to be feared o’ such a set as them.”“Think they’ll come back?” said Oliver.“Well, not till we’ve had plenty of time to reach the brig,” replied Panton, “so let’s get on at once. I say, look at old Drew!”Oliver turned his head to see, with surprise and some amusement, that now the imminent danger had passed, the naturalist had re-asserted itself, and their companion was eagerly collecting specimens of the wonderful parasitic plants which clustered over a decaying tree-trunk. Then his own instincts were aroused by the beauty of at least a dozen tiny sun-birds, perfect gems of colour and brilliancy, which were flitting and buzzing almost like insects about the same blossoms, to probe the deep richly-tinted throats with their long curved beaks.“These are quite fresh,” he said, “I must have a couple of specimens.”In his eagerness he opened the breech of his gun to substitute fresh cartridges containing the smallest shot he had, but Panton arrested him.“Don’t fire,” he said, “they may hear you and come back.”Phut!A peculiar sound like a jet of air suddenly shot out of the crack in the earth close by.“What’s that?” cried Panton, excitedly.“Don’t azackly know, sir,” said Smith; “but I see a puff o’ thin, bluish-looking steam come up out of that bit of a split there.”Panton forgot all about his companions’ firing, and ran to the edge of the rift to find that it was not above a foot across, and that a hot flush of steamy air was being forced out with a faint singing noise, while, to his astonishment, the narrow crack which ran to right and left quite out of sight was now gradually and quite perceptibly closing up.He could see down for a few yards and noted an efflorescence of sulphur rapidly forming on the sides, but this grew fainter and fainter, and was soon lost in the bluish darkness.“Wonderful! wonderful!” he muttered, as he sank upon his knees and laid the barrel of his gun across to watch the rate at which the crevice closed up, while he bent over from time to time to gaze down, the act necessitating the holding of his breath to avoid inhaling the hot fume.“I should just like to see one o’ them charcoal chaps do that, Billy,” said Smith.“Yah! Them!” exclaimed Wriggs, contemptuously. “Why, matey, I’m ashamed o’ mysen. That’s what’s the matter with me.”“’Shamed, what on?”“Being afeard on ’em. For allus speak the truth, Billy, my poor old mother used to say, and I will now, that I will, and I don’t care who hears me.”“Spit it out, then, Billy. There’s nothin’ like the truth nowheres. What are you been saying as warn’t true?”“Same as you did, messmate. I said as it was my legs as run away, ’cause they was feared.”“Well, so they was, warn’t they? I know mine was.”“Nay, not you, Tommy. It warn’t my legs as run away with me, it was me as run away with my legs from them black-looking tar-swabs, and I’m ashamed on it, that I am. Now, then, what have you got to say to that?”“Nothin’ at all, Billy,” said Smith. “But just look, she’s shutting her mouth again.”“Who is?” said Wriggs, staring about. “I can’t see no she’s here.”“Old mother earth, arter trying to swaller that lot o’ niggers, only they was too quick for her.”There, plainly enough as he spoke, was the opening, but it was closing more rapidly now, and a minute later the two sides touched after a violent hissing noise, while one edge was several inches above the other, marking where the rift had been.“Ready?” said Oliver just then.Panton rose to his feet, and, shouldering their guns, the little party marched steadily back toward the brig, which they reached without adventure soon after dark, the latter part of their way having been guided by a lantern hoisted right up to the main truck for their benefit.“Take that light down at once,” were Oliver’s first words as he climbed the side.“Well, yes, I was going to take it down,” said Mr Rimmer, “but it did you some good, didn’t it?”Oliver explained the reason, for there had been no alarm of savages at the brig.Mr Rimmer uttered a low whistle.“So near as that, eh?” he said. “Well, we were quite ready for them; but, my dear lads, what a narrow escape for you. There, welcome back. I shall be rather chary of letting you all out of my sight another time. Get down into the cabin and have a good meal and a rest; I’ll join you as soon as I can.”He left the returned party and busied himself in seeing that all lights likely to be visible from outside were carefully extinguished and the men posted ready in case of an attack when the enemy had recovered from their fright; but they had evidently received too great a shock to return that night, and at last half the men were sent below and later on several more, but the mate stayed on deck till morning came without there having been the slightest alarm.

Oliver Lane’s hands trembled and then became steady as the fierce-looking rout of nearly nude savages came rushing on. No words were spoken in those few brief moments, but it was an understood thing among them all that they were to hold their fire till the Papuans were close upon their hiding place, and then to draw trigger together, in the full belief, or rather hope, that the volley they would deliver would check the enemy, and the following fire from the second barrels complete their discomfiture.

And so during those moments, as Oliver Lane and his companions watched the on-coming rush—moments which seemed to be drawn-out to quite a reckonable space of time—all waited with levelled piece and finger on trigger for the sudden swerve in amongst them as the savages dashed along the open ground with eyes dilated, teeth gleaming, and a fierce look that betokened little mercy.

But the swerve in amongst the trees never came, no weapons were raised by the on-coming foe, and, to the astonishment of the waiting party, the savages dashed by like a human whirlwind till they were some fifty yards onward toward the sea, when they stopped short and wheeled round to stand looking back as if for the enemy from whom they had fled, while Oliver and his party still crouched there, wondering what was to happen next.

Then came the explanation of the savages’ action. They were fleeing from an enemy, but it was no human foe. Nature was at work once more. There was a peculiar vibration of the earth, a cracking, rending sound, and the earth opened in a jagged rift which ran on steadily toward the enemy, passing the edge of the forest where the friends lay, and starting the Papuans on again in headlong flight toward their canoe. Then came a deep rumbling from the opening, a hot gush of steamy air and a violent report from away in the direction of the volcano, and silence once more deep and profound.

No one spoke for some minutes, as they all strained their ears to catch the returning tramp of the fleeing savages. Then the horror and dread were turned into mirth, perhaps a little hysterical on the part of Oliver and Panton, for Wriggs suddenly rose to his knees, made a derisive gesture with one hand, and then placed it to the side of his mouth and yelled out,—

“Yah! Cowards!”

“Yes, that’s it, Billy,” said Smith, rising to his knees as well, and brushing away some of the insects which were investigating his person. “They were all scared because the mountain grumbled a bit. What would some of the beggars have done if they’d been where we went the other day?”

“Ah, what indeed!” growled Wriggs. “I don’t see as we’ve got much call to be feared o’ such a set as them.”

“Think they’ll come back?” said Oliver.

“Well, not till we’ve had plenty of time to reach the brig,” replied Panton, “so let’s get on at once. I say, look at old Drew!”

Oliver turned his head to see, with surprise and some amusement, that now the imminent danger had passed, the naturalist had re-asserted itself, and their companion was eagerly collecting specimens of the wonderful parasitic plants which clustered over a decaying tree-trunk. Then his own instincts were aroused by the beauty of at least a dozen tiny sun-birds, perfect gems of colour and brilliancy, which were flitting and buzzing almost like insects about the same blossoms, to probe the deep richly-tinted throats with their long curved beaks.

“These are quite fresh,” he said, “I must have a couple of specimens.”

In his eagerness he opened the breech of his gun to substitute fresh cartridges containing the smallest shot he had, but Panton arrested him.

“Don’t fire,” he said, “they may hear you and come back.”

Phut!

A peculiar sound like a jet of air suddenly shot out of the crack in the earth close by.

“What’s that?” cried Panton, excitedly.

“Don’t azackly know, sir,” said Smith; “but I see a puff o’ thin, bluish-looking steam come up out of that bit of a split there.”

Panton forgot all about his companions’ firing, and ran to the edge of the rift to find that it was not above a foot across, and that a hot flush of steamy air was being forced out with a faint singing noise, while, to his astonishment, the narrow crack which ran to right and left quite out of sight was now gradually and quite perceptibly closing up.

He could see down for a few yards and noted an efflorescence of sulphur rapidly forming on the sides, but this grew fainter and fainter, and was soon lost in the bluish darkness.

“Wonderful! wonderful!” he muttered, as he sank upon his knees and laid the barrel of his gun across to watch the rate at which the crevice closed up, while he bent over from time to time to gaze down, the act necessitating the holding of his breath to avoid inhaling the hot fume.

“I should just like to see one o’ them charcoal chaps do that, Billy,” said Smith.

“Yah! Them!” exclaimed Wriggs, contemptuously. “Why, matey, I’m ashamed o’ mysen. That’s what’s the matter with me.”

“’Shamed, what on?”

“Being afeard on ’em. For allus speak the truth, Billy, my poor old mother used to say, and I will now, that I will, and I don’t care who hears me.”

“Spit it out, then, Billy. There’s nothin’ like the truth nowheres. What are you been saying as warn’t true?”

“Same as you did, messmate. I said as it was my legs as run away, ’cause they was feared.”

“Well, so they was, warn’t they? I know mine was.”

“Nay, not you, Tommy. It warn’t my legs as run away with me, it was me as run away with my legs from them black-looking tar-swabs, and I’m ashamed on it, that I am. Now, then, what have you got to say to that?”

“Nothin’ at all, Billy,” said Smith. “But just look, she’s shutting her mouth again.”

“Who is?” said Wriggs, staring about. “I can’t see no she’s here.”

“Old mother earth, arter trying to swaller that lot o’ niggers, only they was too quick for her.”

There, plainly enough as he spoke, was the opening, but it was closing more rapidly now, and a minute later the two sides touched after a violent hissing noise, while one edge was several inches above the other, marking where the rift had been.

“Ready?” said Oliver just then.

Panton rose to his feet, and, shouldering their guns, the little party marched steadily back toward the brig, which they reached without adventure soon after dark, the latter part of their way having been guided by a lantern hoisted right up to the main truck for their benefit.

“Take that light down at once,” were Oliver’s first words as he climbed the side.

“Well, yes, I was going to take it down,” said Mr Rimmer, “but it did you some good, didn’t it?”

Oliver explained the reason, for there had been no alarm of savages at the brig.

Mr Rimmer uttered a low whistle.

“So near as that, eh?” he said. “Well, we were quite ready for them; but, my dear lads, what a narrow escape for you. There, welcome back. I shall be rather chary of letting you all out of my sight another time. Get down into the cabin and have a good meal and a rest; I’ll join you as soon as I can.”

He left the returned party and busied himself in seeing that all lights likely to be visible from outside were carefully extinguished and the men posted ready in case of an attack when the enemy had recovered from their fright; but they had evidently received too great a shock to return that night, and at last half the men were sent below and later on several more, but the mate stayed on deck till morning came without there having been the slightest alarm.

Chapter Thirty Eight.Tommy Smith’s Treasure.After a little consultation in the morning it was decided to lead out a strong well armed party to make sure whether the enemy was down by the lagoon, for the state of uncertainty seemed worse than the danger likely to be incurred in an advance and careful retreat. The mate determined to go himself, and selecting four men with Smith and Wriggs they set off, leaving Drew in charge of the ship.The expedition proved to be quite uneventful, and the scouting party were back soon after noon, having been right down to the shores of the lagoon and searched it well from the highest point they could find without there being a sign of a canoe.From that day forward for quite two months, the occupants of the ship ashore enjoyed perfect peace, and no sign was seen of an enemy. It was evident that the natural childish fear and superstition of the blacks had kept them away from the island, but all the same no fishing or shooting excursion was ventured upon without the feeling that the party might return to find the savages making a fresh attack, or being in possession of the brig. Consequently no precautions could be relaxed on board, and not a step was taken without every one being armed to the teeth.The change during that time had been wonderful. Vegetation was so rapid in its growth, and seed spread so quickly, wind swept, that the traces of the earthquake wave were pretty well obliterated by bright young growth. Many of the pools had dried up, but four of the largest kept fairly well filled with brackish water, evidently supplied by some underground communication with the sea, possibly merely by slow filtration through the porous coral rock, sufficient, however, to keep them fit habitations for fish and reptiles.On board the brig the carpenter with three aides worked hard at the lugger being constructed. This was to be hauled down to the sand, and then slowly taken down to the sea on rollers in a cradle specially constructed for the purpose.“Give us time,” said Mr Rimmer, “and we’ll have a light boat that will take us from island to island till we get to some civilised port. But first of all we must sail round where we are.”“There’s no hurry,” said Oliver, “but get the lugger done, and then make another, for we shall want plenty of room for our specimens if we go on like this.”For in spite of having to work as it were with one eye on the look-out for danger, and the other for specimens, each of the three naturalists rapidly increased his collection. Oliver Lane filled case after case with series of the splendid paradise birds which came and went in the most unaccountable manner. For days together they would be plentiful, then for a whole week it seemed as if they had forsaken the island and taken flight to some other spot invisible from the highest points to which they had climbed, but known well to the birds.And there the choice, carefully prepared skins lay in their cases, well dried and aromatic with the preserving paste which kept insect enemies at bay. Here would lie the great bird of Paradise, all cinnamon, metallic green and buff, with its loose plumage and long wire-shafted feathers. In another case a series of the lesser bird. Then Lane found a few of the beautiful metallic rifle bird, all glossy purply green. The standard wing with its elongated tufts of green upon its breast, and from each shoulder a pair of long, gracefully curved, white willow-leaved feathers standing almost straight out at times, while at others they lay neatly down along with the larger quills.Another day in his favourite hunting ground at the foot of the volcano slope he had the good fortune to shoot a bird of which he had read and never seen. It was the king bird of Paradise, monarch for its beauty and not from its size.Drew and Panton were out with him collecting, the one plants, the other crystals, and running to him on hearing him whistling, they were ready to laugh at his excitement over his one bird, a little fellow somewhere about the size of a thrush, but with an exceedingly short tail balanced by a couple of beautiful curled plumes at the end of their wire-like, exquisitely curved feather, starting above the tail and crossing just at its end.But their ridicule soon turned into delight as they gazed at the wondrous display of tints, beautifully blended, so that no two colours jarred. But it was not only in its hues that there was so much fascination to the eye, for all three gazed in wonder at the peculiar appendages which added to the strangeness and beauty of this bird.But there was no end to Oliver’s bird treasures now, and knowing the interest he took in the beautiful creatures, every man on board tried his best to add to his stores by means of trap and gun, the mate encouraging the use of the latter, so that the men might be quite at home with it.“Here y’are, sir,” said Smith, “right sort, and nothing wrong in it, ’cept a spot o’ blood on its back, over two o’ the feathers. I was going to pull ’em out and bring him quite clean, on’y you’re so perticler about every feather being there.”“How could it be perfect without?” said Oliver.“Oh, I dunno, sir. Birds got so many feathers in ’em that nobody’d miss fifty or sixty, let alone one or two. Why, many’s the time I’ve seen ’em pick out lots themselves, specially ducks.”“I daresay,” replied Oliver, “but don’t you ever pick any out; I can always wash away the blood.”“All right, sir, but ain’t yer going to look at it, and what Billy Wriggs got, too?”“I will directly,” replied Oliver. “Wait till I’ve turned this skin.”“Oh, yes, sir, we’ll wait,” said the sailor, and he dropped the butt of his gun to the earth, and stood holding a bird he had shot, while Oliver was seated by an upturned cask, whose head formed a table just under the brig’s bows, where, with a large piece of canvas rigged to a stay, he worked in shelter, skinning his specimens for hours in the early morning and late evening.“Looks gashly nasty, now, sir,” said the man, after a few minutes’ watching, while Oliver carefully painted over the wet, soft, newly-stripped-off skin of a bird with the aromatic poisonous cream he had in a pot. Now the bristles of the brush sought out every crease and hollow about where the flesh-denuded bones of the wings hung by their tendons; then the bones of the legs were painted, the young man intent upon his work—too much so to look up when the two sailors came round from the other side of the vessel. Now the brush ran carefully along the skin, so as not to smirch the feathers at the edge; now it was passed along the thin stretched neck and up to the skull, which had been left whole all but the back, where brains and eyeballs had been carefully extracted, leaving nothing but the paper-like bone of wondrously delicate texture and strength. Here the brush was sedulously applied with more and more cream, which shed a pleasant odour around.“Pyson, ain’t it, sir?” said Wriggs, at last.“Yes, my man, dangerously poisonous,” said Oliver, as he worked away.“Wouldn’t do to set me that job, sir,” said Smith.“Why not? You could soon learn.”“’Cause I got a bad habit, sir.”“Lots!” said Wriggs, laconically.“Here, don’t you be so jolly fond o’ running down your messmate, Bill. ’Course I’ve got lots a’ bad habits—everybody has—don’t s’pose I got more more nor you, mate.”“Dessay not, Tommy,” said Wriggs, with a chuckle.“What I meant was as I’ve got a bad habit a’ poppin’ my fingers in my mouth every now and then, when I’m doin’ anythin’, so as to get a better hold. Some chaps spit in their hands—Billy here does, sir.”“Ay, mate, that’s a true word,” growled Wriggs.“Well, that’s a deal nastier than just wettin’ the tips o’ your fingers, ain’t it? Would it hurt me if I did, sir?”“Most likely be very dangerous,” said Oliver, as he busily tucked some cotton wool into the cavities of the eyes, and then into the empty skull.“What’s he doin’ that for, Tommy?” whispered Wriggs.“Stuffin’ on it to keep the skin from s’rivellin’, mate. Can’t yer see?”“Yes, that’s it,” said Oliver, as he worked away. Then, laying the wing bones together, so as to keep them a short distance apart, he proceeded to bind a little of the cotton fibre round the leg bones before wiping his fingers, carefully feeling for the bird’s claws, and drawing them out from among the soft feathers where they nestled, and restoring the skin to its place so that it fitted well over the wool.“Look at that, now, Billy. There y’are, regular pair o’ natural legs again. Wonderful thing, bird-stuffing! Hope we don’t worry you, sir, talkin’.”“Oh no, talk away,” said Oliver smiling, as he made up a little egg-shaped ball of cotton wool of the size of the bird’s body, which dangled upon a hook at the end of a string. And then he took a pinch of the wool, doubled it, and thrust the doubled part into the skull, leaving enough to form the bird’s neck, followed up with the loose egg-shaped pad which he laid upon the tied together wing bones, and then, with a clever bit of manipulation, drew the skin over the pad, gave the bird a bit of a shake, and, as if it had been some conjuring trick, every feather came back into its right place, and to all appearances there lay a dead bird before him on the head of the cask.“Three cheers and a hextra hooray!” cried Smith. “Ain’t that wonderful, Billy? You and me couldn’t ha’ made a bird like that.”“No,” said Oliver, laughing, “and I couldn’t have furled the main-topgallant sail like you two could.”“Well, sir, that’s true enough,” said Smith; “but if you wouldn’t mind me astin’, ‘What’s the good o’ pysonin’ a bird when it’s dead?’”“I don’t,” said Oliver, as he busily smoothed feathers and fitted the bird’s folded wings close to its sides, giving a pinch them in their here and a pinch there before confining places by rolling a strip of paper round, and fastening it with a pin.“What I do is to poison the skin, so that it may be fatal to any mischievous insect that might wish to eat it, and make the feathers fall out.”“Why o’ course, Tommy,” growled Wriggs, “anybody could ha’ know’d that.”“You didn’t, Billy,” said Smith shortly.“Well, I can’t say as I did quite, mate, but I do now, and I shan’t never forget it. But what’s he doin’ o’ that for? It won’t ketch cold now.”“No,” said Oliver, laughing, as he fitted a little cone of paper on the bird’s head by thrusting it with the beak right down to the end. “That paper cap is to hold the bird’s head well down upon its shoulders, so that it may dry in a natural shape. Birds’ necks fold so that they always look very short.”“And what bird may that be, sir?” said Wriggs.“A pitta—or ground thrush.”“A mercy on us!” said Smith. “It’s a wonderful place this. Thrushes at home is all browny speckly birds, and this here’s blue and green.”“Yes, birds have brilliant plumage here, my lads. Now, then, what have you got for me? Anything good?”“Well, that’s for you to say, sir. Now then, Billy, out with yours first.”“Nay, let’s see yours first, matey.”“Come, come, I’m busy. We’re going for a fresh excursion to-day. Now then, Wriggs, what is it?”“It’s a little squirmy wormy thing as he ketched, sir, just as it come outer its hole to curl up in the sunshine. Pull it out, Billy. He’s got it in his pocket, sir.”Wriggs slowly thrust in his hand and drew out a little thin snake, which moved slightly as he laid it on the table.“He says it’s a wurm, sir,” put in Smith, “I says it’s a young come-structor.”“What’s that?” cried Oliver in a startled way. “Nonsense, it is full grown.”“Couldn’t ha’ took long growing to that size, sir,” said Smith, grinning, as he held the bird he had shot behind him.“But, my good fellows, don’t you know that this is a very dangerous viper?”“What, that?” said Wriggs contemptuously, “there ain’t nothin’ on him.”“There isn’t much of a wasp,” said Oliver, “but his sting is poisonous enough.”“That’s true, sir, specially it you gets it near yer eye. But you don’t mean to say as that little chap’s got a sting in his tail?”“Absurd! Vipers have poisonous fangs—two.”“What, in their tails, sir?”“No, man, in the roof of the mouth. I’ll show you.”“But do you mean as that chap would ha’ bit us and stung us, sir?” said Wriggs anxiously.“Of course I do, and you’ve had a very close shave. How did you kill it?”“Well, sir, he wouldn’t let us kill him, but kep’ on wrigglin’ arter Billy here had trod on his tail, and we didn’t want to quite scrunch him, because you’re so partickler. He got a bit quiet, though, arter a time, and then Billy nipped him at the back o’ the head and put him in his pocket.”“Look here, when you find a snake with a diamond-shaped head like that, you may be pretty certain that it is venomous.”The two sailors scratched their heads in unison while Oliver turned the little viper’s head over, opened its mouth, and made it gape widely by placing a little bone stiletto which he used in skinning the smaller birds within, and then with the point of a penknife he raised two tiny fangs which were laid back on the roof of the reptile’s mouth, and which, when erect, looked like points of glass.“There!” he exclaimed, “those are the poison fangs. They’re hollow and connected with a couple of exceedingly small glands or bags of poison, which shoot a couple of tiny drops of venom through the hollow teeth when they are pressed by the animal biting.”“But you don’t call that ’ere a hanimal, sir?” said Smith, as he wiped the perspiration from his forehead.“What is it, then?” said Oliver, laughingly quoting from an old book—“a vegetable?”“Well, no, sir, but it does look some’at like a sort o’ liquorice stick as the boys used to buy to chew when we went to school.”“It looks more like what it is,” said Oliver, “a very dangerous viper, and I warn you both to be very careful about meddling with such things again.”“But you see it was such a little ’un, sir,” said Wriggs, apologetically.“None the less dangerous, and you’ve had a very narrow escape,” said Oliver. Then noting the men’s disappointed looks, he continued—“But I’m very grateful to you all the same. It was very thoughtful of you, Wriggs, and I am glad to have it to add to my collection.”“Then you won’t chuck it away, sir?” said Wriggs, brightening up.“Throw it away—a rare specimen of a poisonous snake? Most decidedly not. I shall put it in my tin of spirit, and preserve it carefully.”“Seems most a pity to waste good liquor on such a wicious little beggar, don’t it, sir?”“By no means,” said Oliver, smiling. “There, I hope I shall have the pleasure of showing it to one of our best zoologists. Now, Smith, let’s have a look at yours.”“Well, yes, sir,” said the man addressed, as he still kept his hand behind him. “You may as well see it now. Me and Billy here seed my gentleman three or four mornin’s ago.”“Four, Tommy. Allus make yer knots tight.”“Weer it four, Billy? All right, then, four mornin’s ago, just as it was gettin’ light, an’ I says to him, I says, ‘Now that’s just the sort o’ bird as Muster Oliver Lane would like to have to stuff,’ didn’t I, Billy?”“Well, it warn’t quite in them there words, Tommy, but it meant that ’ere.”“Don’t you be so nation perticler about a heff or a gee, messmate. If it meant what I says, wheer’s the harm?”“Allus speak the truth, Tommy. Allus speak the truth,” growled Wriggs.“Come, come, I want to see my bird,” said Oliver. “Go on, Smith.”“That’s just what I wants to do, sir, on’y Billy Wriggs here he is such a haggravatin’ beggar. If yer don’t speak your words to half a quarter of a hinch, he’s down on yer.”Wriggs chuckled, and his messmate went on, but frowned and scowled at him all the time.“Well, sir, I hups with my gun to shoot him, for Mr Rimmer says we’re never to go about anywhere now without loaded guns ’cause of the hinjuns—but bless your ’art, afore you could say ‘Fire’ he was off over the trees, and I was that aggrawated as never was, for he was a fine ’un.”“There, what did I say, Tommy?” growled Wriggs. “Let him have it all.”“Look-ye here, messmate, are you a-goin’ to tell the story, or am I?”“Well, you’d better go on, Tommy, as you began it, on’y you gets driftin’ to the lee so, instead o’ sailin’ ahead.”“Look here, you’d better do it yoursen,” cried Smith.“No, no, go on, man,” said Oliver.“All right, sir,” grumbled Smith. “Well, Billy Wriggs says as he was sure he come there to feed of a morning, and pick up the wurms, and that if we got up early and waited there, we should see my gentleman again. So we says nothin’ to nobody, did we, Billy?”“Not a word, messmate.”“And gets there very early nex’ morning, but he’d got there afore us, andChuck, he says, and away he went, ’fore I’d time to think o’ shootin’ at him. But never mind, I says, I will be ready for yer to-morrer mornin’, and we gets there much sooner, and waited in the dark. We hadn’t been there more’n a minute before we know’d he’d been afore us, for we could hear him querking an’ cherking to himself all in a low tone, just as if he was a-saying, ‘There’s a couple o’ chaps hangin’ about to get a look at my feathers, and I just aren’t goin’ to let ’em.’”“Yes, it were just like that,” said Wriggs, giving his head an approving nod.“Ay, it weer, Billy, and my heye, sir, how we two did try to get a glimpse of him. But bless yer ’art, sir, it was that dark as never was. He didn’t mind, for we could hear him flickin’ about in the trees, and flying down on the ground, and then makin’ quite a flutter as he went up again, and talkin’ to hissen all the time about us.”“You’re a long time getting to the shooting, Smith,” said Oliver.“That’s a true word, sir. We was, for it got light at last, and both me and Billy had our guns ready to pop off, but he warn’t there then. Not a sign of him. Oh, he was a hartful one! He knowed what we was up to, and he goes and gets there in the middle o’ the night, has what he wants, and then off he goes all quiet like before we could see.”“But you did shoot it at last?”“Ay, sir, I did, but not that mornin’, which was yesterday, you know. For, Billy, I says, this here game won’t do.”“Ay, you did, Tommy.”“You and me ain’t goin’ to be done by a big cock-sparrer sort o’ thing, is we? and he says we warn’t, and we’ll keep on earlier and earlier till we do get him.”“Well, and what did you do?” asked Oliver, smiling.“Goes in the middle o’ the night, sir, to be sure, and there we was as quiet as could be; but we didn’t hear nothin’ till just afore sunrise, when there was acherk, cherk, and a bit of flutterin’ just as we was makin’ up our minds as he was too artful for us. Billy, he gives me a nudge and shoves up the gun and takes aim.”“But you couldn’t see the bird?” said Oliver.“No, sir, not yet, but I wanted to be ready so as to get a shot at him the moment he showed hissen, and then if I didn’t recklect as I hadn’t loaded the gun arter giving it a good clean up yes’day, ’cause it were getting rusty.”“That’s so, and I did mine, too,” said Wriggs.“You might ha’ knocked me down with a feather, sir,” continued Smith.“Nay, nay, speak the truth, Tommy,” growled Wriggs, reprovingly. “No feather as ever growed wouldn’t knock you down.”“Will you be quiet, Billy Wriggs? Who’s to tell the gentleman if you keep a-sticking your marlin-spike in where it aren’t wanted?”“Come, come, I want to see my bird,” cried Oliver, who was amused by the sailor’s long-winded narrative. “If it takes so much time to shoot one bird, how long would it take to shoot a flock?”“Ah! I dunno, sir,” said Smith, solemnly.“But you got this one?”“Ay, sir, I did.”“We did, Tommy! speak the truth.”“Well,wedid, then. I shot him, sir, and Billy goes in among the bushes and picked him up.”“Gettin’ scratched awfully,” growled Wriggs.“Then you did shoot it,” said Oliver, “without powder or shot?”“Nay, sir, I lowered the gun down, shoved in a fresh cartridge, and waited like a stone statty.”“Two stone stattys,” said Wriggs, solemnly. “Speak the truth.”“Yes, sir, neither on us moved, and I don’t think as we breathed for ever so long, till it humbugged that there bird so as he couldn’t stand it no longer, and he bobs right up on to a high bough so as to peep over and see whether we was there.”“And were you?”“Yes, sir,” said Smith, very solemnly, “we was, and he soon knowed it, for bang says my gun, down he come. Billy, as I says afore, goes and picks him up.”“Yes,” said Oliver, laughing; “and after all that long rigmarole, I suppose it is something I don’t want. Now, then, don’t keep it behind you like that. Let’s see what it’s like. Come, don’t be so childish.”“All right, sir,” said Smith, giving his companion a wink, and then with a flourish he swung round a shapely-looking Pitta—a hen-bird of very sober plumage—and banged it down on the head of the cask.“Well, upon my word,” cried Oliver, indignantly. “Here have you two chaps kept me all this time spinning a miserable yarn about a bird that I began to hope was a fine specimen worth having, and then you bring out this!”“Yes, sir, won’t it do?” said Smith, winking at Wriggs once more.“There, be off with you, and take the rubbishing thing away,” cried Oliver, wrathfully. “All your cock and bull story about that.”“Yes, sir,” cried Smith, with a peculiar chuckle and a wink at Wriggs; “but that there warn’t the one.”As he spoke, Smith very carefully and slowly brought his hand round again, holding a bird in the most perfect plumage suspended by a thin ring of brass wire, which had been thrust through the nostrils, and Oliver uttered a cry of joy.“Ahoy, Drew! Panton! come here, quick!”“What’s up?” came from the deck, and as there was the hurried sound of feet, the two sailors nodded and winked and gave each his leg a slap.“What is it?” cried Panton, eagerly, as he ran to where his brother naturalist stood gloating over his treasure.“A gem! A gem!” cried Oliver.“Then, that’s in my way, not yours,” said Panton. “My word, what a beauty! That’s quite fresh.”“To me, but I know what it is. The Golden Paradise bird. Isn’t it exquisite? Look at its colours and the crest.”“That’s what took my attention first of all,” said Drew, who had now joined them, and they all three gloated over the wonderful specimen which glowed with intense colours. There were no long loose flowing buff plume; for the bird was short and compact, its principal decoration being six oval feathers at the end of as many thin wire-like pens, three growing crest-like out of each side of its head. The whole of its throat and breast were covered with broad scale-like feathers of brilliant metallic golden hue, looking in the sunshine like the dazzling throat of a humming bird vastly magnified; while, seen in different lights, these golden scales changed in hue like the plumes of a peacock, becoming purple or green. A pure satiny white patch glistened conspicuously on the front of the head, before the place whence the six cresting feathers sprang. This covering stood out the more strongly from the fact that at first sight the bird appeared to be of a dense black, but at the slightest movement it glowed with bronze metallic blue, and an indescribable tint, such as is sometimes seen in freshly-broken sulphur and iron ore.For some moments no one spoke, and with tender touches Oliver turned his bird here and there, so that the sun should play upon its glistening plumage at different angles. Now he was carefully raising some feather which was slightly out of place, now raising the six crest feathers through his hand, and bending over it as if it were the most glorious object he had ever seen.“Seems a sin to attempt to skin it,” said Oliver at last. “I shall never get those feathers to look so smooth again.”“Oh, yes, you will. Go on,” said Panton, “and get it done. The weather soon makes a change.”“Yes, I must carefully preserve this,” cried Oliver; and Drew sighed.“I’ve worked pretty hard,” he said, “but I have found nothing to compare with that in rarity or beauty.”“Then you think it’ll do, sir?” said Smith, with his face shining with pleasure.“Do, my man! I can never be grateful enough to you both for finding it.”“Worth long rigmarole, eh, sir?” said Wriggs with a chuckle.“It’s worth anything to a naturalist, my man.”“What is?” said Mr Rimmer, coming up; and the bird was held up for his inspection.“Another kind of bird of Paradise?” he said.“Yes, isn’t it lovely?”“Very, gentlemen, but I want to talk to you about launching our lugger, she’s getting well on toward being ready.”“Ready?” said Oliver. “Oh yes, of course. But don’t hurry, Mr Rimmer, we shan’t be ready to go for some time yet.”“Mean it?” said Rimmer, smiling.“Mean it!” cried Oliver, looking up from his bird. “Why, you don’t suppose we can go away from a place where such specimens as this are to be had. I can’t.”“No,” said Panton, quietly, “since I got better I have been finding such a grand series of minerals that I must stay if I possibly can. What do you say, Drew?”“It would be madness to hurry away.”“And what about the niggers?” said Mr Rimmer, who looked amused.“They haven’t worried us lately.”“But the volcano? Really, gentlemen, I never feel safe from one day to another. I am always expecting to see the earth open and swallow us up.”“Yes, we are in a doubtful position,” said Panton, thoughtfully, “and never know what may happen, living as we are, over fire.”“And hot water,” said the mate, smiling. “One of the men has just found a little spring, where the water spurts up at boiling point.”“Well,” said Panton, “it will be convenient. There, Mr Rimmer, get your lugger launched, and we’ll explore the coast, but don’t say anything about our going away for months to come, for we must make some more efforts to get right up to the crater edge before we give up. Besides, we have not half examined the land yet.”“No,” said the mate, “we have not half examined the land yet. Very well, gentlemen, you came on purpose for this sort of thing, so it’s not for me to say any more. I’m anchored pretty safely, that is, if the earth don’t give way, and let the brig through. I’ll, as I’ve said before, get my lugger finished and launched. She’ll lie snugly enough in the deepest part of the lagoon if the blacks will keep away, and I shall gradually load and provision her, ready for when we have to go will that do?”“Yes, splendidly,” said Oliver. “There, don’t say any wore about it, please, for I want to skin my bird.”

After a little consultation in the morning it was decided to lead out a strong well armed party to make sure whether the enemy was down by the lagoon, for the state of uncertainty seemed worse than the danger likely to be incurred in an advance and careful retreat. The mate determined to go himself, and selecting four men with Smith and Wriggs they set off, leaving Drew in charge of the ship.

The expedition proved to be quite uneventful, and the scouting party were back soon after noon, having been right down to the shores of the lagoon and searched it well from the highest point they could find without there being a sign of a canoe.

From that day forward for quite two months, the occupants of the ship ashore enjoyed perfect peace, and no sign was seen of an enemy. It was evident that the natural childish fear and superstition of the blacks had kept them away from the island, but all the same no fishing or shooting excursion was ventured upon without the feeling that the party might return to find the savages making a fresh attack, or being in possession of the brig. Consequently no precautions could be relaxed on board, and not a step was taken without every one being armed to the teeth.

The change during that time had been wonderful. Vegetation was so rapid in its growth, and seed spread so quickly, wind swept, that the traces of the earthquake wave were pretty well obliterated by bright young growth. Many of the pools had dried up, but four of the largest kept fairly well filled with brackish water, evidently supplied by some underground communication with the sea, possibly merely by slow filtration through the porous coral rock, sufficient, however, to keep them fit habitations for fish and reptiles.

On board the brig the carpenter with three aides worked hard at the lugger being constructed. This was to be hauled down to the sand, and then slowly taken down to the sea on rollers in a cradle specially constructed for the purpose.

“Give us time,” said Mr Rimmer, “and we’ll have a light boat that will take us from island to island till we get to some civilised port. But first of all we must sail round where we are.”

“There’s no hurry,” said Oliver, “but get the lugger done, and then make another, for we shall want plenty of room for our specimens if we go on like this.”

For in spite of having to work as it were with one eye on the look-out for danger, and the other for specimens, each of the three naturalists rapidly increased his collection. Oliver Lane filled case after case with series of the splendid paradise birds which came and went in the most unaccountable manner. For days together they would be plentiful, then for a whole week it seemed as if they had forsaken the island and taken flight to some other spot invisible from the highest points to which they had climbed, but known well to the birds.

And there the choice, carefully prepared skins lay in their cases, well dried and aromatic with the preserving paste which kept insect enemies at bay. Here would lie the great bird of Paradise, all cinnamon, metallic green and buff, with its loose plumage and long wire-shafted feathers. In another case a series of the lesser bird. Then Lane found a few of the beautiful metallic rifle bird, all glossy purply green. The standard wing with its elongated tufts of green upon its breast, and from each shoulder a pair of long, gracefully curved, white willow-leaved feathers standing almost straight out at times, while at others they lay neatly down along with the larger quills.

Another day in his favourite hunting ground at the foot of the volcano slope he had the good fortune to shoot a bird of which he had read and never seen. It was the king bird of Paradise, monarch for its beauty and not from its size.

Drew and Panton were out with him collecting, the one plants, the other crystals, and running to him on hearing him whistling, they were ready to laugh at his excitement over his one bird, a little fellow somewhere about the size of a thrush, but with an exceedingly short tail balanced by a couple of beautiful curled plumes at the end of their wire-like, exquisitely curved feather, starting above the tail and crossing just at its end.

But their ridicule soon turned into delight as they gazed at the wondrous display of tints, beautifully blended, so that no two colours jarred. But it was not only in its hues that there was so much fascination to the eye, for all three gazed in wonder at the peculiar appendages which added to the strangeness and beauty of this bird.

But there was no end to Oliver’s bird treasures now, and knowing the interest he took in the beautiful creatures, every man on board tried his best to add to his stores by means of trap and gun, the mate encouraging the use of the latter, so that the men might be quite at home with it.

“Here y’are, sir,” said Smith, “right sort, and nothing wrong in it, ’cept a spot o’ blood on its back, over two o’ the feathers. I was going to pull ’em out and bring him quite clean, on’y you’re so perticler about every feather being there.”

“How could it be perfect without?” said Oliver.

“Oh, I dunno, sir. Birds got so many feathers in ’em that nobody’d miss fifty or sixty, let alone one or two. Why, many’s the time I’ve seen ’em pick out lots themselves, specially ducks.”

“I daresay,” replied Oliver, “but don’t you ever pick any out; I can always wash away the blood.”

“All right, sir, but ain’t yer going to look at it, and what Billy Wriggs got, too?”

“I will directly,” replied Oliver. “Wait till I’ve turned this skin.”

“Oh, yes, sir, we’ll wait,” said the sailor, and he dropped the butt of his gun to the earth, and stood holding a bird he had shot, while Oliver was seated by an upturned cask, whose head formed a table just under the brig’s bows, where, with a large piece of canvas rigged to a stay, he worked in shelter, skinning his specimens for hours in the early morning and late evening.

“Looks gashly nasty, now, sir,” said the man, after a few minutes’ watching, while Oliver carefully painted over the wet, soft, newly-stripped-off skin of a bird with the aromatic poisonous cream he had in a pot. Now the bristles of the brush sought out every crease and hollow about where the flesh-denuded bones of the wings hung by their tendons; then the bones of the legs were painted, the young man intent upon his work—too much so to look up when the two sailors came round from the other side of the vessel. Now the brush ran carefully along the skin, so as not to smirch the feathers at the edge; now it was passed along the thin stretched neck and up to the skull, which had been left whole all but the back, where brains and eyeballs had been carefully extracted, leaving nothing but the paper-like bone of wondrously delicate texture and strength. Here the brush was sedulously applied with more and more cream, which shed a pleasant odour around.

“Pyson, ain’t it, sir?” said Wriggs, at last.

“Yes, my man, dangerously poisonous,” said Oliver, as he worked away.

“Wouldn’t do to set me that job, sir,” said Smith.

“Why not? You could soon learn.”

“’Cause I got a bad habit, sir.”

“Lots!” said Wriggs, laconically.

“Here, don’t you be so jolly fond o’ running down your messmate, Bill. ’Course I’ve got lots a’ bad habits—everybody has—don’t s’pose I got more more nor you, mate.”

“Dessay not, Tommy,” said Wriggs, with a chuckle.

“What I meant was as I’ve got a bad habit a’ poppin’ my fingers in my mouth every now and then, when I’m doin’ anythin’, so as to get a better hold. Some chaps spit in their hands—Billy here does, sir.”

“Ay, mate, that’s a true word,” growled Wriggs.

“Well, that’s a deal nastier than just wettin’ the tips o’ your fingers, ain’t it? Would it hurt me if I did, sir?”

“Most likely be very dangerous,” said Oliver, as he busily tucked some cotton wool into the cavities of the eyes, and then into the empty skull.

“What’s he doin’ that for, Tommy?” whispered Wriggs.

“Stuffin’ on it to keep the skin from s’rivellin’, mate. Can’t yer see?”

“Yes, that’s it,” said Oliver, as he worked away. Then, laying the wing bones together, so as to keep them a short distance apart, he proceeded to bind a little of the cotton fibre round the leg bones before wiping his fingers, carefully feeling for the bird’s claws, and drawing them out from among the soft feathers where they nestled, and restoring the skin to its place so that it fitted well over the wool.

“Look at that, now, Billy. There y’are, regular pair o’ natural legs again. Wonderful thing, bird-stuffing! Hope we don’t worry you, sir, talkin’.”

“Oh no, talk away,” said Oliver smiling, as he made up a little egg-shaped ball of cotton wool of the size of the bird’s body, which dangled upon a hook at the end of a string. And then he took a pinch of the wool, doubled it, and thrust the doubled part into the skull, leaving enough to form the bird’s neck, followed up with the loose egg-shaped pad which he laid upon the tied together wing bones, and then, with a clever bit of manipulation, drew the skin over the pad, gave the bird a bit of a shake, and, as if it had been some conjuring trick, every feather came back into its right place, and to all appearances there lay a dead bird before him on the head of the cask.

“Three cheers and a hextra hooray!” cried Smith. “Ain’t that wonderful, Billy? You and me couldn’t ha’ made a bird like that.”

“No,” said Oliver, laughing, “and I couldn’t have furled the main-topgallant sail like you two could.”

“Well, sir, that’s true enough,” said Smith; “but if you wouldn’t mind me astin’, ‘What’s the good o’ pysonin’ a bird when it’s dead?’”

“I don’t,” said Oliver, as he busily smoothed feathers and fitted the bird’s folded wings close to its sides, giving a pinch them in their here and a pinch there before confining places by rolling a strip of paper round, and fastening it with a pin.

“What I do is to poison the skin, so that it may be fatal to any mischievous insect that might wish to eat it, and make the feathers fall out.”

“Why o’ course, Tommy,” growled Wriggs, “anybody could ha’ know’d that.”

“You didn’t, Billy,” said Smith shortly.

“Well, I can’t say as I did quite, mate, but I do now, and I shan’t never forget it. But what’s he doin’ o’ that for? It won’t ketch cold now.”

“No,” said Oliver, laughing, as he fitted a little cone of paper on the bird’s head by thrusting it with the beak right down to the end. “That paper cap is to hold the bird’s head well down upon its shoulders, so that it may dry in a natural shape. Birds’ necks fold so that they always look very short.”

“And what bird may that be, sir?” said Wriggs.

“A pitta—or ground thrush.”

“A mercy on us!” said Smith. “It’s a wonderful place this. Thrushes at home is all browny speckly birds, and this here’s blue and green.”

“Yes, birds have brilliant plumage here, my lads. Now, then, what have you got for me? Anything good?”

“Well, that’s for you to say, sir. Now then, Billy, out with yours first.”

“Nay, let’s see yours first, matey.”

“Come, come, I’m busy. We’re going for a fresh excursion to-day. Now then, Wriggs, what is it?”

“It’s a little squirmy wormy thing as he ketched, sir, just as it come outer its hole to curl up in the sunshine. Pull it out, Billy. He’s got it in his pocket, sir.”

Wriggs slowly thrust in his hand and drew out a little thin snake, which moved slightly as he laid it on the table.

“He says it’s a wurm, sir,” put in Smith, “I says it’s a young come-structor.”

“What’s that?” cried Oliver in a startled way. “Nonsense, it is full grown.”

“Couldn’t ha’ took long growing to that size, sir,” said Smith, grinning, as he held the bird he had shot behind him.

“But, my good fellows, don’t you know that this is a very dangerous viper?”

“What, that?” said Wriggs contemptuously, “there ain’t nothin’ on him.”

“There isn’t much of a wasp,” said Oliver, “but his sting is poisonous enough.”

“That’s true, sir, specially it you gets it near yer eye. But you don’t mean to say as that little chap’s got a sting in his tail?”

“Absurd! Vipers have poisonous fangs—two.”

“What, in their tails, sir?”

“No, man, in the roof of the mouth. I’ll show you.”

“But do you mean as that chap would ha’ bit us and stung us, sir?” said Wriggs anxiously.

“Of course I do, and you’ve had a very close shave. How did you kill it?”

“Well, sir, he wouldn’t let us kill him, but kep’ on wrigglin’ arter Billy here had trod on his tail, and we didn’t want to quite scrunch him, because you’re so partickler. He got a bit quiet, though, arter a time, and then Billy nipped him at the back o’ the head and put him in his pocket.”

“Look here, when you find a snake with a diamond-shaped head like that, you may be pretty certain that it is venomous.”

The two sailors scratched their heads in unison while Oliver turned the little viper’s head over, opened its mouth, and made it gape widely by placing a little bone stiletto which he used in skinning the smaller birds within, and then with the point of a penknife he raised two tiny fangs which were laid back on the roof of the reptile’s mouth, and which, when erect, looked like points of glass.

“There!” he exclaimed, “those are the poison fangs. They’re hollow and connected with a couple of exceedingly small glands or bags of poison, which shoot a couple of tiny drops of venom through the hollow teeth when they are pressed by the animal biting.”

“But you don’t call that ’ere a hanimal, sir?” said Smith, as he wiped the perspiration from his forehead.

“What is it, then?” said Oliver, laughingly quoting from an old book—“a vegetable?”

“Well, no, sir, but it does look some’at like a sort o’ liquorice stick as the boys used to buy to chew when we went to school.”

“It looks more like what it is,” said Oliver, “a very dangerous viper, and I warn you both to be very careful about meddling with such things again.”

“But you see it was such a little ’un, sir,” said Wriggs, apologetically.

“None the less dangerous, and you’ve had a very narrow escape,” said Oliver. Then noting the men’s disappointed looks, he continued—

“But I’m very grateful to you all the same. It was very thoughtful of you, Wriggs, and I am glad to have it to add to my collection.”

“Then you won’t chuck it away, sir?” said Wriggs, brightening up.

“Throw it away—a rare specimen of a poisonous snake? Most decidedly not. I shall put it in my tin of spirit, and preserve it carefully.”

“Seems most a pity to waste good liquor on such a wicious little beggar, don’t it, sir?”

“By no means,” said Oliver, smiling. “There, I hope I shall have the pleasure of showing it to one of our best zoologists. Now, Smith, let’s have a look at yours.”

“Well, yes, sir,” said the man addressed, as he still kept his hand behind him. “You may as well see it now. Me and Billy here seed my gentleman three or four mornin’s ago.”

“Four, Tommy. Allus make yer knots tight.”

“Weer it four, Billy? All right, then, four mornin’s ago, just as it was gettin’ light, an’ I says to him, I says, ‘Now that’s just the sort o’ bird as Muster Oliver Lane would like to have to stuff,’ didn’t I, Billy?”

“Well, it warn’t quite in them there words, Tommy, but it meant that ’ere.”

“Don’t you be so nation perticler about a heff or a gee, messmate. If it meant what I says, wheer’s the harm?”

“Allus speak the truth, Tommy. Allus speak the truth,” growled Wriggs.

“Come, come, I want to see my bird,” said Oliver. “Go on, Smith.”

“That’s just what I wants to do, sir, on’y Billy Wriggs here he is such a haggravatin’ beggar. If yer don’t speak your words to half a quarter of a hinch, he’s down on yer.”

Wriggs chuckled, and his messmate went on, but frowned and scowled at him all the time.

“Well, sir, I hups with my gun to shoot him, for Mr Rimmer says we’re never to go about anywhere now without loaded guns ’cause of the hinjuns—but bless your ’art, afore you could say ‘Fire’ he was off over the trees, and I was that aggrawated as never was, for he was a fine ’un.”

“There, what did I say, Tommy?” growled Wriggs. “Let him have it all.”

“Look-ye here, messmate, are you a-goin’ to tell the story, or am I?”

“Well, you’d better go on, Tommy, as you began it, on’y you gets driftin’ to the lee so, instead o’ sailin’ ahead.”

“Look here, you’d better do it yoursen,” cried Smith.

“No, no, go on, man,” said Oliver.

“All right, sir,” grumbled Smith. “Well, Billy Wriggs says as he was sure he come there to feed of a morning, and pick up the wurms, and that if we got up early and waited there, we should see my gentleman again. So we says nothin’ to nobody, did we, Billy?”

“Not a word, messmate.”

“And gets there very early nex’ morning, but he’d got there afore us, andChuck, he says, and away he went, ’fore I’d time to think o’ shootin’ at him. But never mind, I says, I will be ready for yer to-morrer mornin’, and we gets there much sooner, and waited in the dark. We hadn’t been there more’n a minute before we know’d he’d been afore us, for we could hear him querking an’ cherking to himself all in a low tone, just as if he was a-saying, ‘There’s a couple o’ chaps hangin’ about to get a look at my feathers, and I just aren’t goin’ to let ’em.’”

“Yes, it were just like that,” said Wriggs, giving his head an approving nod.

“Ay, it weer, Billy, and my heye, sir, how we two did try to get a glimpse of him. But bless yer ’art, sir, it was that dark as never was. He didn’t mind, for we could hear him flickin’ about in the trees, and flying down on the ground, and then makin’ quite a flutter as he went up again, and talkin’ to hissen all the time about us.”

“You’re a long time getting to the shooting, Smith,” said Oliver.

“That’s a true word, sir. We was, for it got light at last, and both me and Billy had our guns ready to pop off, but he warn’t there then. Not a sign of him. Oh, he was a hartful one! He knowed what we was up to, and he goes and gets there in the middle o’ the night, has what he wants, and then off he goes all quiet like before we could see.”

“But you did shoot it at last?”

“Ay, sir, I did, but not that mornin’, which was yesterday, you know. For, Billy, I says, this here game won’t do.”

“Ay, you did, Tommy.”

“You and me ain’t goin’ to be done by a big cock-sparrer sort o’ thing, is we? and he says we warn’t, and we’ll keep on earlier and earlier till we do get him.”

“Well, and what did you do?” asked Oliver, smiling.

“Goes in the middle o’ the night, sir, to be sure, and there we was as quiet as could be; but we didn’t hear nothin’ till just afore sunrise, when there was acherk, cherk, and a bit of flutterin’ just as we was makin’ up our minds as he was too artful for us. Billy, he gives me a nudge and shoves up the gun and takes aim.”

“But you couldn’t see the bird?” said Oliver.

“No, sir, not yet, but I wanted to be ready so as to get a shot at him the moment he showed hissen, and then if I didn’t recklect as I hadn’t loaded the gun arter giving it a good clean up yes’day, ’cause it were getting rusty.”

“That’s so, and I did mine, too,” said Wriggs.

“You might ha’ knocked me down with a feather, sir,” continued Smith.

“Nay, nay, speak the truth, Tommy,” growled Wriggs, reprovingly. “No feather as ever growed wouldn’t knock you down.”

“Will you be quiet, Billy Wriggs? Who’s to tell the gentleman if you keep a-sticking your marlin-spike in where it aren’t wanted?”

“Come, come, I want to see my bird,” cried Oliver, who was amused by the sailor’s long-winded narrative. “If it takes so much time to shoot one bird, how long would it take to shoot a flock?”

“Ah! I dunno, sir,” said Smith, solemnly.

“But you got this one?”

“Ay, sir, I did.”

“We did, Tommy! speak the truth.”

“Well,wedid, then. I shot him, sir, and Billy goes in among the bushes and picked him up.”

“Gettin’ scratched awfully,” growled Wriggs.

“Then you did shoot it,” said Oliver, “without powder or shot?”

“Nay, sir, I lowered the gun down, shoved in a fresh cartridge, and waited like a stone statty.”

“Two stone stattys,” said Wriggs, solemnly. “Speak the truth.”

“Yes, sir, neither on us moved, and I don’t think as we breathed for ever so long, till it humbugged that there bird so as he couldn’t stand it no longer, and he bobs right up on to a high bough so as to peep over and see whether we was there.”

“And were you?”

“Yes, sir,” said Smith, very solemnly, “we was, and he soon knowed it, for bang says my gun, down he come. Billy, as I says afore, goes and picks him up.”

“Yes,” said Oliver, laughing; “and after all that long rigmarole, I suppose it is something I don’t want. Now, then, don’t keep it behind you like that. Let’s see what it’s like. Come, don’t be so childish.”

“All right, sir,” said Smith, giving his companion a wink, and then with a flourish he swung round a shapely-looking Pitta—a hen-bird of very sober plumage—and banged it down on the head of the cask.

“Well, upon my word,” cried Oliver, indignantly. “Here have you two chaps kept me all this time spinning a miserable yarn about a bird that I began to hope was a fine specimen worth having, and then you bring out this!”

“Yes, sir, won’t it do?” said Smith, winking at Wriggs once more.

“There, be off with you, and take the rubbishing thing away,” cried Oliver, wrathfully. “All your cock and bull story about that.”

“Yes, sir,” cried Smith, with a peculiar chuckle and a wink at Wriggs; “but that there warn’t the one.”

As he spoke, Smith very carefully and slowly brought his hand round again, holding a bird in the most perfect plumage suspended by a thin ring of brass wire, which had been thrust through the nostrils, and Oliver uttered a cry of joy.

“Ahoy, Drew! Panton! come here, quick!”

“What’s up?” came from the deck, and as there was the hurried sound of feet, the two sailors nodded and winked and gave each his leg a slap.

“What is it?” cried Panton, eagerly, as he ran to where his brother naturalist stood gloating over his treasure.

“A gem! A gem!” cried Oliver.

“Then, that’s in my way, not yours,” said Panton. “My word, what a beauty! That’s quite fresh.”

“To me, but I know what it is. The Golden Paradise bird. Isn’t it exquisite? Look at its colours and the crest.”

“That’s what took my attention first of all,” said Drew, who had now joined them, and they all three gloated over the wonderful specimen which glowed with intense colours. There were no long loose flowing buff plume; for the bird was short and compact, its principal decoration being six oval feathers at the end of as many thin wire-like pens, three growing crest-like out of each side of its head. The whole of its throat and breast were covered with broad scale-like feathers of brilliant metallic golden hue, looking in the sunshine like the dazzling throat of a humming bird vastly magnified; while, seen in different lights, these golden scales changed in hue like the plumes of a peacock, becoming purple or green. A pure satiny white patch glistened conspicuously on the front of the head, before the place whence the six cresting feathers sprang. This covering stood out the more strongly from the fact that at first sight the bird appeared to be of a dense black, but at the slightest movement it glowed with bronze metallic blue, and an indescribable tint, such as is sometimes seen in freshly-broken sulphur and iron ore.

For some moments no one spoke, and with tender touches Oliver turned his bird here and there, so that the sun should play upon its glistening plumage at different angles. Now he was carefully raising some feather which was slightly out of place, now raising the six crest feathers through his hand, and bending over it as if it were the most glorious object he had ever seen.

“Seems a sin to attempt to skin it,” said Oliver at last. “I shall never get those feathers to look so smooth again.”

“Oh, yes, you will. Go on,” said Panton, “and get it done. The weather soon makes a change.”

“Yes, I must carefully preserve this,” cried Oliver; and Drew sighed.

“I’ve worked pretty hard,” he said, “but I have found nothing to compare with that in rarity or beauty.”

“Then you think it’ll do, sir?” said Smith, with his face shining with pleasure.

“Do, my man! I can never be grateful enough to you both for finding it.”

“Worth long rigmarole, eh, sir?” said Wriggs with a chuckle.

“It’s worth anything to a naturalist, my man.”

“What is?” said Mr Rimmer, coming up; and the bird was held up for his inspection.

“Another kind of bird of Paradise?” he said.

“Yes, isn’t it lovely?”

“Very, gentlemen, but I want to talk to you about launching our lugger, she’s getting well on toward being ready.”

“Ready?” said Oliver. “Oh yes, of course. But don’t hurry, Mr Rimmer, we shan’t be ready to go for some time yet.”

“Mean it?” said Rimmer, smiling.

“Mean it!” cried Oliver, looking up from his bird. “Why, you don’t suppose we can go away from a place where such specimens as this are to be had. I can’t.”

“No,” said Panton, quietly, “since I got better I have been finding such a grand series of minerals that I must stay if I possibly can. What do you say, Drew?”

“It would be madness to hurry away.”

“And what about the niggers?” said Mr Rimmer, who looked amused.

“They haven’t worried us lately.”

“But the volcano? Really, gentlemen, I never feel safe from one day to another. I am always expecting to see the earth open and swallow us up.”

“Yes, we are in a doubtful position,” said Panton, thoughtfully, “and never know what may happen, living as we are, over fire.”

“And hot water,” said the mate, smiling. “One of the men has just found a little spring, where the water spurts up at boiling point.”

“Well,” said Panton, “it will be convenient. There, Mr Rimmer, get your lugger launched, and we’ll explore the coast, but don’t say anything about our going away for months to come, for we must make some more efforts to get right up to the crater edge before we give up. Besides, we have not half examined the land yet.”

“No,” said the mate, “we have not half examined the land yet. Very well, gentlemen, you came on purpose for this sort of thing, so it’s not for me to say any more. I’m anchored pretty safely, that is, if the earth don’t give way, and let the brig through. I’ll, as I’ve said before, get my lugger finished and launched. She’ll lie snugly enough in the deepest part of the lagoon if the blacks will keep away, and I shall gradually load and provision her, ready for when we have to go will that do?”

“Yes, splendidly,” said Oliver. “There, don’t say any wore about it, please, for I want to skin my bird.”

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