Chapter Forty.

Chapter Forty.We secure Fresh Treasures.Our injuries soon grew better, but though we kept on sailing for days and days past the most tempting-looking spots, we never dared to land, for always as soon as we neared some gloriously-wooded track, all hill, dale, and mountain, and amidst whose trees the glasses showed us plenty of birds, the inhabitants began to cluster on the shore, and when once or twice my uncle said that we would go in nearer and see, the same custom was invariably observed: the people came shouting and dancing about the beach holding out birds and bunches of feathers and shells, making signs for us to land.There was no need for Ebo to grow excited and cry, “No—no! man-kill! man-kill!” for my uncle laughed and shook his head.“They must try another way of baiting their traps, Nat,” he would cry laughing. “My head is too sore with blows and memories to be caught again.”It was always the same. No sooner did the treacherous savages find that we would not land than they rushed to their canoes, and began to pursue us howling and yelling; but the swift-sailed boat was always ready to leave them far behind, and we were only too glad to find that the pleasant brisk breezes stood our friends.“I would not loiter here, Nat,” he said, “amidst such a treacherous, bloodthirsty set, but the great island is so tempting that I long for a ramble amongst its forests. I know that there are plenty of wonderful specimens to be obtained here. New kinds of paradise birds, butterflies, and beetles, and other attractions that it would be a sin not to obtain.”“Perhaps we shall find a place by and bye where there are no inhabitants, uncle,” I said.“That is what I have been hoping for days,” he replied; and not long after we sailed round a headland into a beautiful bay with the whitest of sand, trees clustering amidst the lovely yellow stone cliffs, and a bright stream of water flowing through a gorge and tumbling over two or three little barriers of rocks before losing itself in the calm waters of the bay.Some six or seven miles back was a high ridge of mountains, which seemed to touch the sea to east and west, cutting off as it were a narrow strip from the mainland, and this strip, some fifteen miles long and six wide at its greatest, was fertile in the extreme.“Why, Nat,” cried my uncle, “this should be as grand a place as our island. If it is free of savages it is the beau idéal of a naturalist’s station. Look! what’s that?”“A deer come out of the wood to drink in the stream,” I said.“Poor deer,” laughed my uncle, “I’m afraid it will have to come into our larder, for a bit of venison is the very thing we want.”As he spoke he cautiously took up a rifle, rested it upon the edge of the boat, waited a few moments, and then fired at fully five hundred yards’ distance, and I saw the deer make one great bound and fall dead.“Good! Eatum,” said Ebo approvingly; but instead of indulging in a frantic dance he shaded his eyes and gazed about in every direction, carefully sweeping the shore, and paying no heed to us as the boat was sailed close in.As the keel was checked by the sand Ebo leaped out, and I thought he was about to rush at the deer to skin it for food, but he ran off rapidly in one direction right along the shore, coming back at the end of a quarter of an hour, during which, after dragging our prize on board, we remained, gun in hand, upon the watch.Ebo started again and went in the other direction, being away longer this time, but returning triumphant to indulge in a dance, and help drag the boat into a place of safety before proceeding to light a fire.Venison steaks followed, and after another exploration we found that we were in so thoroughly uninhabited a part of the island that we built a hut and slept ashore perfectly undisturbed.The next morning we had another exploration, to find that, as my uncle had supposed, the ridge of mountains cut us off from the rest of the island, and finding nothing to fear we once more set to work.Parrots were in profusion, and so were the great crowned pigeons; these latter becoming our poultry for the table. There was an abundance, though, of birds of large size, whose skins we did not care to preserve, but which, being fruit-eaters, were delicious roasted. Then we had another deer or two; caught fish in the bay; and literally revelled in the bounteous supply of fruit.Meanwhile we were working industriously over our specimens, finding paroquets that were quite new to us, splendid cockatoos, and some that were as ugly as they were curious.Sun-birds, pittas, lovely starlings, kingfishers, and beautifully-tinted pigeons were in abundance. Bright little manakins of a vivid green were there, so feathered that they put me in mind of the rich orange cock-of-the-rocks that Uncle Dick had brought over from Central America.Sometimes we were shooting beside the lovely trickling stream where it gathered itself into pools to form tiny waterfalls, places where some birds seemed to love to come. At others, beneath some great flower-draped tree, where the sun-birds hovered and darted. But the great objects of our search, the birds of paradise, haunted the nut and berry bearing trees. Some were always to be found by a kind of palm that attracted the pigeons as well, these latter swallowing fruit that looked as big as their heads.Here, to our intense delight, we shot the paradise oriole, a magnificent orange, yellow, and black bird, its head looking as if it was covered with a lovely orange plush.One day we had made a longer excursion than usual, and had been so successful that we were about to turn back, having a long afternoon’s work before us to preserve our specimens. We had penetrated right to the mountainous ridge, and finding the ground rise very rapidly we came to a standstill, when a peculiar cry up amongst the tree-shadowed rocks above us made us forget our fatigue, especially as Ebo was making signs.The cry was so different to any that we had before heard that we felt that it must be some new bird, and full of eagerness set to work to stalk it.All at once what seemed a flash of dark blue darted from a tree, and before gun could reach shoulder it was gone.But Ebo had been on the watch, and away he crept amongst the rocks and trees, following what we now took to be a prize, till we saw him a quarter of a mile away holding up his spear as a signal.We followed cautiously, and with a look of intelligence in his eyes he signed to my uncle to go one way towards a clump of tall palms, and to me to go in the other direction.“Fire upwards,” whispered my uncle, and we parted.I knew from Ebo’s ways that the bird must be in one of these trees, and with my eyes sweeping the great leaves in all directions I tried to make out the bird, but in vain, and I had advanced so near that I gave up all hope of seeing it, when suddenly from the other side there was a shot, then another, and feeling satisfied that my uncle had secured the prize I was completely taken off my guard, and stared with astonishment as a large bird, with tail quite a couple of feet long, swept by me towards the dense undergrowth of the lower ground, where it would have been in vain to hunt for it.Just, however, as the bird was darting between the trees I raised my gun and made a quick snapshot at quite sixty yards’ distance, and then called myself a stupid for not being more ready and for wasting a charge of powder and shot.My uncle hailed me now.“Any luck, Nat?” he cried, as he came up.“No, uncle,” I replied. “I made a flying shot, but it was too far-off.”“So were mine, Nat, but I fired on the chance of getting the bird. It was a bird of paradise different to any I have seen. We must come again. I never had a chance at it.”“But I did, uncle,” I said dolefully, “and missed it.”“Where was it when you fired?”“Down among those trees, uncle. I let it go too far.”“Why, you hit it, Nat! There’s Ebo.”I looked, and to my intense delight there was our black companion holding up the bird in triumph. He had seen it fall when I shot, marked it down, and found it amongst the dense undergrowth, placing it before us with hardly a feather disarranged.It was a splendid bird, the last we shot in New Guinea, and over three feet long, its tail being two and of a lovely bluish tint. If looked at from one side it was bronze, from the other green, just as the light fell, while from its sides sprung magnificent plumes of rich blue and green. They were not long, filmy plumes like those of the great bird of paradise, but short, each widening towards the end, and standing up like a couple of fans above the wings.It was a feast to gaze upon so lovely an object of creation, and I felt more proud of having secured that specimen than of any bird I had shot before.“Well, Nat the Naturalist,” cried my uncle, when he had carefully hung the bird by its beak from a stick, “I think I did right in bringing you with me.”“I am glad you think so, uncle,” I said.“I mean it, my boy, for you have been invaluable to me. It was worth all the risk of coming to this savage place to get such a bird as that.”“There must be plenty more wonderful birds here, uncle,” I said, “if we could stop in safety.”“I am sure there are, Nat, and there is nothing I should like better than to stay here. It is a regular naturalist’s hunting-ground and full of treasures, if we dared thoroughly explore it.”“Just now, uncle,” I said, “I feel as if I want to do nothing else but sit down and rest by a good dinner. Oh! I am so fagged!”“Come along, then,” he said smiling, “and we will make straight for camp, and I dare say we can manage a good repast for your lordship. Home, Ebo. Eat—drink—sleep.”“Eat—drink—sleep,” said Ebo nodding, for he knew what those three words meant, and carefully carrying the treasures we had shot, tied at regular distances along a stick, he trudged on in advance towards our hut upon the shore.

Our injuries soon grew better, but though we kept on sailing for days and days past the most tempting-looking spots, we never dared to land, for always as soon as we neared some gloriously-wooded track, all hill, dale, and mountain, and amidst whose trees the glasses showed us plenty of birds, the inhabitants began to cluster on the shore, and when once or twice my uncle said that we would go in nearer and see, the same custom was invariably observed: the people came shouting and dancing about the beach holding out birds and bunches of feathers and shells, making signs for us to land.

There was no need for Ebo to grow excited and cry, “No—no! man-kill! man-kill!” for my uncle laughed and shook his head.

“They must try another way of baiting their traps, Nat,” he would cry laughing. “My head is too sore with blows and memories to be caught again.”

It was always the same. No sooner did the treacherous savages find that we would not land than they rushed to their canoes, and began to pursue us howling and yelling; but the swift-sailed boat was always ready to leave them far behind, and we were only too glad to find that the pleasant brisk breezes stood our friends.

“I would not loiter here, Nat,” he said, “amidst such a treacherous, bloodthirsty set, but the great island is so tempting that I long for a ramble amongst its forests. I know that there are plenty of wonderful specimens to be obtained here. New kinds of paradise birds, butterflies, and beetles, and other attractions that it would be a sin not to obtain.”

“Perhaps we shall find a place by and bye where there are no inhabitants, uncle,” I said.

“That is what I have been hoping for days,” he replied; and not long after we sailed round a headland into a beautiful bay with the whitest of sand, trees clustering amidst the lovely yellow stone cliffs, and a bright stream of water flowing through a gorge and tumbling over two or three little barriers of rocks before losing itself in the calm waters of the bay.

Some six or seven miles back was a high ridge of mountains, which seemed to touch the sea to east and west, cutting off as it were a narrow strip from the mainland, and this strip, some fifteen miles long and six wide at its greatest, was fertile in the extreme.

“Why, Nat,” cried my uncle, “this should be as grand a place as our island. If it is free of savages it is the beau idéal of a naturalist’s station. Look! what’s that?”

“A deer come out of the wood to drink in the stream,” I said.

“Poor deer,” laughed my uncle, “I’m afraid it will have to come into our larder, for a bit of venison is the very thing we want.”

As he spoke he cautiously took up a rifle, rested it upon the edge of the boat, waited a few moments, and then fired at fully five hundred yards’ distance, and I saw the deer make one great bound and fall dead.

“Good! Eatum,” said Ebo approvingly; but instead of indulging in a frantic dance he shaded his eyes and gazed about in every direction, carefully sweeping the shore, and paying no heed to us as the boat was sailed close in.

As the keel was checked by the sand Ebo leaped out, and I thought he was about to rush at the deer to skin it for food, but he ran off rapidly in one direction right along the shore, coming back at the end of a quarter of an hour, during which, after dragging our prize on board, we remained, gun in hand, upon the watch.

Ebo started again and went in the other direction, being away longer this time, but returning triumphant to indulge in a dance, and help drag the boat into a place of safety before proceeding to light a fire.

Venison steaks followed, and after another exploration we found that we were in so thoroughly uninhabited a part of the island that we built a hut and slept ashore perfectly undisturbed.

The next morning we had another exploration, to find that, as my uncle had supposed, the ridge of mountains cut us off from the rest of the island, and finding nothing to fear we once more set to work.

Parrots were in profusion, and so were the great crowned pigeons; these latter becoming our poultry for the table. There was an abundance, though, of birds of large size, whose skins we did not care to preserve, but which, being fruit-eaters, were delicious roasted. Then we had another deer or two; caught fish in the bay; and literally revelled in the bounteous supply of fruit.

Meanwhile we were working industriously over our specimens, finding paroquets that were quite new to us, splendid cockatoos, and some that were as ugly as they were curious.

Sun-birds, pittas, lovely starlings, kingfishers, and beautifully-tinted pigeons were in abundance. Bright little manakins of a vivid green were there, so feathered that they put me in mind of the rich orange cock-of-the-rocks that Uncle Dick had brought over from Central America.

Sometimes we were shooting beside the lovely trickling stream where it gathered itself into pools to form tiny waterfalls, places where some birds seemed to love to come. At others, beneath some great flower-draped tree, where the sun-birds hovered and darted. But the great objects of our search, the birds of paradise, haunted the nut and berry bearing trees. Some were always to be found by a kind of palm that attracted the pigeons as well, these latter swallowing fruit that looked as big as their heads.

Here, to our intense delight, we shot the paradise oriole, a magnificent orange, yellow, and black bird, its head looking as if it was covered with a lovely orange plush.

One day we had made a longer excursion than usual, and had been so successful that we were about to turn back, having a long afternoon’s work before us to preserve our specimens. We had penetrated right to the mountainous ridge, and finding the ground rise very rapidly we came to a standstill, when a peculiar cry up amongst the tree-shadowed rocks above us made us forget our fatigue, especially as Ebo was making signs.

The cry was so different to any that we had before heard that we felt that it must be some new bird, and full of eagerness set to work to stalk it.

All at once what seemed a flash of dark blue darted from a tree, and before gun could reach shoulder it was gone.

But Ebo had been on the watch, and away he crept amongst the rocks and trees, following what we now took to be a prize, till we saw him a quarter of a mile away holding up his spear as a signal.

We followed cautiously, and with a look of intelligence in his eyes he signed to my uncle to go one way towards a clump of tall palms, and to me to go in the other direction.

“Fire upwards,” whispered my uncle, and we parted.

I knew from Ebo’s ways that the bird must be in one of these trees, and with my eyes sweeping the great leaves in all directions I tried to make out the bird, but in vain, and I had advanced so near that I gave up all hope of seeing it, when suddenly from the other side there was a shot, then another, and feeling satisfied that my uncle had secured the prize I was completely taken off my guard, and stared with astonishment as a large bird, with tail quite a couple of feet long, swept by me towards the dense undergrowth of the lower ground, where it would have been in vain to hunt for it.

Just, however, as the bird was darting between the trees I raised my gun and made a quick snapshot at quite sixty yards’ distance, and then called myself a stupid for not being more ready and for wasting a charge of powder and shot.

My uncle hailed me now.

“Any luck, Nat?” he cried, as he came up.

“No, uncle,” I replied. “I made a flying shot, but it was too far-off.”

“So were mine, Nat, but I fired on the chance of getting the bird. It was a bird of paradise different to any I have seen. We must come again. I never had a chance at it.”

“But I did, uncle,” I said dolefully, “and missed it.”

“Where was it when you fired?”

“Down among those trees, uncle. I let it go too far.”

“Why, you hit it, Nat! There’s Ebo.”

I looked, and to my intense delight there was our black companion holding up the bird in triumph. He had seen it fall when I shot, marked it down, and found it amongst the dense undergrowth, placing it before us with hardly a feather disarranged.

It was a splendid bird, the last we shot in New Guinea, and over three feet long, its tail being two and of a lovely bluish tint. If looked at from one side it was bronze, from the other green, just as the light fell, while from its sides sprung magnificent plumes of rich blue and green. They were not long, filmy plumes like those of the great bird of paradise, but short, each widening towards the end, and standing up like a couple of fans above the wings.

It was a feast to gaze upon so lovely an object of creation, and I felt more proud of having secured that specimen than of any bird I had shot before.

“Well, Nat the Naturalist,” cried my uncle, when he had carefully hung the bird by its beak from a stick, “I think I did right in bringing you with me.”

“I am glad you think so, uncle,” I said.

“I mean it, my boy, for you have been invaluable to me. It was worth all the risk of coming to this savage place to get such a bird as that.”

“There must be plenty more wonderful birds here, uncle,” I said, “if we could stop in safety.”

“I am sure there are, Nat, and there is nothing I should like better than to stay here. It is a regular naturalist’s hunting-ground and full of treasures, if we dared thoroughly explore it.”

“Just now, uncle,” I said, “I feel as if I want to do nothing else but sit down and rest by a good dinner. Oh! I am so fagged!”

“Come along, then,” he said smiling, “and we will make straight for camp, and I dare say we can manage a good repast for your lordship. Home, Ebo. Eat—drink—sleep.”

“Eat—drink—sleep,” said Ebo nodding, for he knew what those three words meant, and carefully carrying the treasures we had shot, tied at regular distances along a stick, he trudged on in advance towards our hut upon the shore.

Chapter Forty One.Our Terrible Losses.We had only about three miles to go if we could have flown like birds; but the way lay in and out of rocks, with quite a little precipice to descend at times, so that the journey must have been double that length. The hope of a good meal, however, made us trudge on, and after a few stops to rest I saw that we must now be nearing the shore, for the ground was much more level.So different did it appear, though, that I hardly recognised some of it, and had it not been for Ebo I am sure we should have gone astray; but, savage like, he seemed to have an unerring instinct for finding his way back over ground he had been over before, and we had only to look back at him if we were in front for him to point out the way with the greatest of confidence.We were trudging on in front, talking in a low tone about making another expedition into the mountainous part, in the hope of finding it, the higher we climbed, more free from risk of meeting natives, and we were now getting so near the shore that we could hear the beat of the waves upon a reef that lay off our hut, and sheltered the boat from being washed about, when all of a sudden, as we were traversing some low, scrubby bushes which were more thorny than was pleasant, Ebo suddenly struck us both on the shoulder, forcing us down amongst the leaves and twigs, and on looking sharply round we saw that he had dropped our splendid specimens, and, wild-eyed and excited, he was crouching too.“Why, Ebo,” began my uncle; but the black clapped his hand upon his mouth, and then pointed to the shore in front.I felt my blood turn cold; for there, not fifty yards away, and dimly seen through the shade of leaves, was a party of about fifty New Guinea men, with a couple of dozen more in three canoes that were lying just outside the reef. They were a fierce-looking lot, armed with spears, axes, and clubs, and they were gesticulating and chattering fiercely about our boat.I heard my uncle utter a groan, for it seemed as if the labours of all these months upon months of collecting were wasted, and that specimens, stores, arms, everything of value, would fall into the hands of these savages. He was perfectly calm directly after, and crouched there with his gun ready for a chance, should there be any necessity for its use; but he knew that it was useless to attempt to fight, all we could do was to save our lives.After about half an hour’s talk the savages embarked, taking our boat in tow behind one of their canoes, and we saw the bright water flash as the paddles beat regularly, and the men sent their craft along till they swept round the headland west of the bay and were gone.“Oh, uncle!” I cried, as soon as we were safe.“It is very hard, Nat, my boy,” he said sadly; “but it might have been worse. We have our lives and a little ammunition; but the scoundrels have wrecked my expedition.”“And we have no boat, uncle.”“Nor anything else, Nat,” he said cheerfully. “But we have plenty of pluck, my boy, and Ebo will help us to make a canoe to take us to the Moluccas, where I dare say I can get some merchant to fit us out again. Well, Ebo,” he cried, “all gone!”“Man—kill—gone,” repeated Ebo, shaking his spear angrily, and then he kept repeating the word Owé—boat, as we went down to the shore.“Let’s see if they have left anything in the hut, Nat,” said my uncle. “We must have food even if we are stripped.”We turned through the bushes and made our way into the little arbour-like spot beside the stream where Ebo had built our hut beneath a splendid tree, when, to our utter astonishment, we found that the savages had not seen our little home, but had caught sight of the boat, landed and carried it off, without attempting to look for its owners. No one had been there since we left, that was evident; and pleased as we were, our delight was more than equalled by Ebo’s, for laying down our specimens, this time more carefully, he refreshed himself with a dance before lighting a fire, where a capital meal was prepared, which we thankfully enjoyed as we thought of the benefits we received by having the forethought to carry everything out of the boat and placing it under cover for fear of rain.The savages then had taken nothing but our boat, and the next thing was to set to work to construct another, for my uncle said he should not feel satisfied to stay where we were longer, without some means of retreat being ready for an emergency.Before lying down we managed to ask Ebo what he thought of our being able to build a canoe that would carry us and our luxuries. For reply he laughed, pointed to our axes and to the trees, as if to say, What a foolish question when we have all the material here!I was so wearied, and slept so heavily, that I had to be awakened by my uncle long after the sun was up.“Come, Nat,” he said, “I want you to make a fire. Ebo has gone off somewhere.”I made the fire, after which we had a hasty breakfast, and then worked hard at skin making—preserving all our specimens.The day glided by, but Ebo did not come, and feeling no disposition to collect more, in fact not caring now to fire, we had a look round to see which would be the most likely place to cut down a tree and begin building a boat.“It is lucky for us, Nat,” said my uncle, “that Ebo belongs to a nation of boat-builders. Perhaps he has gone to search for a suitable place and the kind of wood he thinks best; but I wish he would come.”Night fell and no Ebo. The next morning he was not there; and as day after day glided by we set ourselves to work to search for him, feeling sure that the poor fellow must have fallen from some precipice and be lying helpless in the forest. But we had no success, and began to think then of wild beasts, though we had seen nothing large enough to be dangerous, except that worst wild beast of all, savage man.Still we searched until we were beginning to conclude that he must have been seen by a passing canoe whose occupants had landed and carried him off.“I don’t think they would, uncle,” I said, though; “he is too sharp and cunning. Why, it would be like seeking to catch a wild bird to try and get hold of Ebo, if he was out in the woods.”“Perhaps you are right, Nat,” said my uncle. “There is one way, though, that we have never tried, I mean over the mountain beyond where you shot that last bird. To-morrow we will go across there and see if there are any signs of the poor fellow. If we see none then we must set to work ourselves to build a canoe or hollow one out of a tree, and I tremble, Nat, for the result.”“Shall we be able to make one big enough to carry our chests, uncle?”“No, Nat, I don’t expect it. If we can contrive one that will carry us to some port we must be satisfied. There I can buy a boat, and we must come back for our stores.”We devoted the next two days to a long expedition, merely using our guns to procure food, and reluctantly allowing several splendid birds to escape.But our expedition only produced weariness; and footsore and worn out we returned to our hut, fully determined to spend our time in trying what we could contrive in the shape of a boat, falling fast asleep, sad at heart indeed, for in Ebo we felt that we had lost a faithful friend.

We had only about three miles to go if we could have flown like birds; but the way lay in and out of rocks, with quite a little precipice to descend at times, so that the journey must have been double that length. The hope of a good meal, however, made us trudge on, and after a few stops to rest I saw that we must now be nearing the shore, for the ground was much more level.

So different did it appear, though, that I hardly recognised some of it, and had it not been for Ebo I am sure we should have gone astray; but, savage like, he seemed to have an unerring instinct for finding his way back over ground he had been over before, and we had only to look back at him if we were in front for him to point out the way with the greatest of confidence.

We were trudging on in front, talking in a low tone about making another expedition into the mountainous part, in the hope of finding it, the higher we climbed, more free from risk of meeting natives, and we were now getting so near the shore that we could hear the beat of the waves upon a reef that lay off our hut, and sheltered the boat from being washed about, when all of a sudden, as we were traversing some low, scrubby bushes which were more thorny than was pleasant, Ebo suddenly struck us both on the shoulder, forcing us down amongst the leaves and twigs, and on looking sharply round we saw that he had dropped our splendid specimens, and, wild-eyed and excited, he was crouching too.

“Why, Ebo,” began my uncle; but the black clapped his hand upon his mouth, and then pointed to the shore in front.

I felt my blood turn cold; for there, not fifty yards away, and dimly seen through the shade of leaves, was a party of about fifty New Guinea men, with a couple of dozen more in three canoes that were lying just outside the reef. They were a fierce-looking lot, armed with spears, axes, and clubs, and they were gesticulating and chattering fiercely about our boat.

I heard my uncle utter a groan, for it seemed as if the labours of all these months upon months of collecting were wasted, and that specimens, stores, arms, everything of value, would fall into the hands of these savages. He was perfectly calm directly after, and crouched there with his gun ready for a chance, should there be any necessity for its use; but he knew that it was useless to attempt to fight, all we could do was to save our lives.

After about half an hour’s talk the savages embarked, taking our boat in tow behind one of their canoes, and we saw the bright water flash as the paddles beat regularly, and the men sent their craft along till they swept round the headland west of the bay and were gone.

“Oh, uncle!” I cried, as soon as we were safe.

“It is very hard, Nat, my boy,” he said sadly; “but it might have been worse. We have our lives and a little ammunition; but the scoundrels have wrecked my expedition.”

“And we have no boat, uncle.”

“Nor anything else, Nat,” he said cheerfully. “But we have plenty of pluck, my boy, and Ebo will help us to make a canoe to take us to the Moluccas, where I dare say I can get some merchant to fit us out again. Well, Ebo,” he cried, “all gone!”

“Man—kill—gone,” repeated Ebo, shaking his spear angrily, and then he kept repeating the word Owé—boat, as we went down to the shore.

“Let’s see if they have left anything in the hut, Nat,” said my uncle. “We must have food even if we are stripped.”

We turned through the bushes and made our way into the little arbour-like spot beside the stream where Ebo had built our hut beneath a splendid tree, when, to our utter astonishment, we found that the savages had not seen our little home, but had caught sight of the boat, landed and carried it off, without attempting to look for its owners. No one had been there since we left, that was evident; and pleased as we were, our delight was more than equalled by Ebo’s, for laying down our specimens, this time more carefully, he refreshed himself with a dance before lighting a fire, where a capital meal was prepared, which we thankfully enjoyed as we thought of the benefits we received by having the forethought to carry everything out of the boat and placing it under cover for fear of rain.

The savages then had taken nothing but our boat, and the next thing was to set to work to construct another, for my uncle said he should not feel satisfied to stay where we were longer, without some means of retreat being ready for an emergency.

Before lying down we managed to ask Ebo what he thought of our being able to build a canoe that would carry us and our luxuries. For reply he laughed, pointed to our axes and to the trees, as if to say, What a foolish question when we have all the material here!

I was so wearied, and slept so heavily, that I had to be awakened by my uncle long after the sun was up.

“Come, Nat,” he said, “I want you to make a fire. Ebo has gone off somewhere.”

I made the fire, after which we had a hasty breakfast, and then worked hard at skin making—preserving all our specimens.

The day glided by, but Ebo did not come, and feeling no disposition to collect more, in fact not caring now to fire, we had a look round to see which would be the most likely place to cut down a tree and begin building a boat.

“It is lucky for us, Nat,” said my uncle, “that Ebo belongs to a nation of boat-builders. Perhaps he has gone to search for a suitable place and the kind of wood he thinks best; but I wish he would come.”

Night fell and no Ebo. The next morning he was not there; and as day after day glided by we set ourselves to work to search for him, feeling sure that the poor fellow must have fallen from some precipice and be lying helpless in the forest. But we had no success, and began to think then of wild beasts, though we had seen nothing large enough to be dangerous, except that worst wild beast of all, savage man.

Still we searched until we were beginning to conclude that he must have been seen by a passing canoe whose occupants had landed and carried him off.

“I don’t think they would, uncle,” I said, though; “he is too sharp and cunning. Why, it would be like seeking to catch a wild bird to try and get hold of Ebo, if he was out in the woods.”

“Perhaps you are right, Nat,” said my uncle. “There is one way, though, that we have never tried, I mean over the mountain beyond where you shot that last bird. To-morrow we will go across there and see if there are any signs of the poor fellow. If we see none then we must set to work ourselves to build a canoe or hollow one out of a tree, and I tremble, Nat, for the result.”

“Shall we be able to make one big enough to carry our chests, uncle?”

“No, Nat, I don’t expect it. If we can contrive one that will carry us to some port we must be satisfied. There I can buy a boat, and we must come back for our stores.”

We devoted the next two days to a long expedition, merely using our guns to procure food, and reluctantly allowing several splendid birds to escape.

But our expedition only produced weariness; and footsore and worn out we returned to our hut, fully determined to spend our time in trying what we could contrive in the shape of a boat, falling fast asleep, sad at heart indeed, for in Ebo we felt that we had lost a faithful friend.

Chapter Forty Two.An Experiment in Boat-Building.“It is of no use to be down-hearted, Nat,” said my uncle the next morning. “Cheer up, my lad, and let’s look our difficulties in the face. That’s the way to overcome them, I think.”“I feel better this morning, uncle,” I said.“Nothing like a good night’s rest, Nat, for raising the spirits. This loss of the boat and then of our follower, if he is lost, are two great misfortunes, but we must bear in mind that before all this hardly anything but success attended us.”“Except with the savages, uncle,” I said.“Right, Nat: except with the savages. Now let’s go down to the shore and have a good look out to sea.”We walked down close to the water, and having satisfied ourselves that no canoes were in sight, we made a fire, at which our coffee was soon getting hot, while I roasted a big pigeon, of which food we never seemed to tire, the supply being so abundant that it seemed a matter of course to shoot two or three when we wanted meat.“I’d give something, Nat,” said my uncle, as we sat there in the soft, delicious sea air, with the sunshine coming down like silver rays through the glorious foliage above our heads—“I’d give something, Nat, if boat-building had formed part of my education.”“Or you had gone and learned it, like Peter the Great, uncle.”“Exactly, my boy. But it did not, so we must set to work at once and see what we can do. Now what do you say? How are we to make a boat?”“I’ve been thinking about it a great deal, uncle,” I said, “and I was wondering whether we could not make a bark canoe like the Indians.”“A bark canoe, eh, Nat?”“Yes, uncle. I’ve seen a model of one, and it looks so easy.”“Yes, my boy, these things do look easy; but the men who make them, savages though they be, work on the experience of many generations. It took hundreds of years to make a good bark canoe, Nat, and I’m afraid the first manufacturers of that useful little vessel were drowned. No, Nat, we could not make a canoe of that kind.”“Then we must cut down a big tree and hollow it out, uncle, only it will take a long time.”“Yes, Nat, but suppose we try the medium way. I propose that we cut down a moderately-sized tree, and hollow it out for the lower part of our boat, drive pegs all along the edge for a support, and weave in that a basket-work of cane for the sides as high as we want it.”“But how could we make the sides watertight, uncle?” I said; “there seem to be no pine-trees here to get pitch or turpentine.”“No, Nat, but there is a gum to be found in large quantities in the earth, if we can discover any. The Malays called itdammar, and use it largely for torches. It strikes me that we could turn it into a splendid varnish, seeing what a hard resinous substance it is. Ebo would have found some very soon, I have no doubt.”“Then I must find some without him, uncle,” I said. “I shall go hunting for it whenever I am not busy boat-building.”He smiled at my enthusiasm, and after examining the skins to see that they were all dry and free from attacks of ants, we each took a hatchet and our guns, and proceeded along by the side of the shore in search of a stout straight tree that should combine the qualities of being light, strong, easy to work, and growing near the sea.We quite came to the conclusion that we should have a great deal of labour, and only learn by experience which kind of tree would be suitable, perhaps having to cut down several before we found one that would do.“And that will be bad, uncle,” I said.“It will cause us a great deal of labour, Nat,” he replied smiling; “but it will make us handy with our hatchets.”“I did not mean that, uncle,” I replied; “I was thinking of savages coming in this direction and seeing the chips and cut-down trees.”“To be sure, Nat, you are right. That will be bad; but as we are cut off so from the rest of the island, we must be hopeful that we may get our work done before they come.”We spent four days hunting about before we found a tree that possessed all the qualities we required. We found dozens that would have done, only they were far away from the shore, where it would have been very difficult to move our boat afterwards to the water’s edge.But the tree we selected offered us a thick straight stem twenty feet long, and it was so placed that the land sloped easily towards the sea, and it was sufficiently removed from the beach for us to go on with our work unseen.We set to at once to cut it down, finding to our great delight as soon as we were through the bark that the wood was firm and fibrous, and yet easy to cut, so that after six hours’ steady chopping we had made a big gap in the side, when we were obliged to leave off because it was dark.We worked the next day and the next, and then my uncle leaned against it while I gave a few more cuts, and down it went with a crash amongst the other trees, to be ready for working up into the shape we required.Next morning as soon as it was light we began again to cut off the top at the length we intended to have our boat, a task this which saved the labour of chopping off the branches. I worked hard, and the labour was made lighter by Uncle Dick’s pleasant conversation. For he chatted about savage and civilised man, and laughingly pointed out how the latter had gone on improving.“You see what slow laborious work this chipping with our axes is, Nat,” he said one day, as we kept industriously on, “when by means of cross-cut saws and a circular saw worked by steam this tree could be soon reduced to thin boards ready for building our boat.”Birds came and perched near us, and some were very rare in kind, but we felt that we must leave them alone so as to secure those we had obtained, and we worked patiently on till at the end of a week the tree began to wear outside somewhat the shape of a boat, and it was just about the length we required.It was terribly hard work, but we did not shrink, and at last, after congratulating ourselves upon having got so far without being interfered with by the savages, we had shouldered our guns and were walking back to the hut one evening when we caught sight of a black figure running across an opening, and we knew that our time of safety was at an end.“It is what I have always feared, Nat,” said my uncle quickly. “Quick; put big-shot cartridges in your gun. We will not spill blood if we can help it, but it is their lives or ours, and we must get safely back home.”“What shall we do now?” I said huskily.“Wait and see what the enemy mean to do, and—”“Hi, yi, yi—Hi, yi, yi—Hi, yi, yi. Hey. Nat, mi boy. Ung-kul!” came shrilly through the trees.“Hooray!” I shrieked, leaping out of my hiding-place. “Ebo! Ebo! Hi, yi, yi—Hi, yi, yi. Hooray!”We ran to meet him, and he bounded towards us, leaping, dancing, rolling on the ground, hugging us, and seeming half mad with delight as he dragged us down to the sea-side, where a new surprise awaited us.For there upon shore, with her anchor fixed in the sands, lay our boat apparently quite uninjured.As Ebo danced about and patted the boat and then himself, it was plain enough to read the cause of his disappearance. He had gone off along the shore following the savages to their village, and then watched his opportunity to sail off. And this he had of course done, placing the boat safely in its old moorings.He made signs for something to eat, and then I noticed that he looked very thin; and it was evident that the poor fellow had suffered terrible privations in getting back our treasure, and proving himself so good a friend.

“It is of no use to be down-hearted, Nat,” said my uncle the next morning. “Cheer up, my lad, and let’s look our difficulties in the face. That’s the way to overcome them, I think.”

“I feel better this morning, uncle,” I said.

“Nothing like a good night’s rest, Nat, for raising the spirits. This loss of the boat and then of our follower, if he is lost, are two great misfortunes, but we must bear in mind that before all this hardly anything but success attended us.”

“Except with the savages, uncle,” I said.

“Right, Nat: except with the savages. Now let’s go down to the shore and have a good look out to sea.”

We walked down close to the water, and having satisfied ourselves that no canoes were in sight, we made a fire, at which our coffee was soon getting hot, while I roasted a big pigeon, of which food we never seemed to tire, the supply being so abundant that it seemed a matter of course to shoot two or three when we wanted meat.

“I’d give something, Nat,” said my uncle, as we sat there in the soft, delicious sea air, with the sunshine coming down like silver rays through the glorious foliage above our heads—“I’d give something, Nat, if boat-building had formed part of my education.”

“Or you had gone and learned it, like Peter the Great, uncle.”

“Exactly, my boy. But it did not, so we must set to work at once and see what we can do. Now what do you say? How are we to make a boat?”

“I’ve been thinking about it a great deal, uncle,” I said, “and I was wondering whether we could not make a bark canoe like the Indians.”

“A bark canoe, eh, Nat?”

“Yes, uncle. I’ve seen a model of one, and it looks so easy.”

“Yes, my boy, these things do look easy; but the men who make them, savages though they be, work on the experience of many generations. It took hundreds of years to make a good bark canoe, Nat, and I’m afraid the first manufacturers of that useful little vessel were drowned. No, Nat, we could not make a canoe of that kind.”

“Then we must cut down a big tree and hollow it out, uncle, only it will take a long time.”

“Yes, Nat, but suppose we try the medium way. I propose that we cut down a moderately-sized tree, and hollow it out for the lower part of our boat, drive pegs all along the edge for a support, and weave in that a basket-work of cane for the sides as high as we want it.”

“But how could we make the sides watertight, uncle?” I said; “there seem to be no pine-trees here to get pitch or turpentine.”

“No, Nat, but there is a gum to be found in large quantities in the earth, if we can discover any. The Malays called itdammar, and use it largely for torches. It strikes me that we could turn it into a splendid varnish, seeing what a hard resinous substance it is. Ebo would have found some very soon, I have no doubt.”

“Then I must find some without him, uncle,” I said. “I shall go hunting for it whenever I am not busy boat-building.”

He smiled at my enthusiasm, and after examining the skins to see that they were all dry and free from attacks of ants, we each took a hatchet and our guns, and proceeded along by the side of the shore in search of a stout straight tree that should combine the qualities of being light, strong, easy to work, and growing near the sea.

We quite came to the conclusion that we should have a great deal of labour, and only learn by experience which kind of tree would be suitable, perhaps having to cut down several before we found one that would do.

“And that will be bad, uncle,” I said.

“It will cause us a great deal of labour, Nat,” he replied smiling; “but it will make us handy with our hatchets.”

“I did not mean that, uncle,” I replied; “I was thinking of savages coming in this direction and seeing the chips and cut-down trees.”

“To be sure, Nat, you are right. That will be bad; but as we are cut off so from the rest of the island, we must be hopeful that we may get our work done before they come.”

We spent four days hunting about before we found a tree that possessed all the qualities we required. We found dozens that would have done, only they were far away from the shore, where it would have been very difficult to move our boat afterwards to the water’s edge.

But the tree we selected offered us a thick straight stem twenty feet long, and it was so placed that the land sloped easily towards the sea, and it was sufficiently removed from the beach for us to go on with our work unseen.

We set to at once to cut it down, finding to our great delight as soon as we were through the bark that the wood was firm and fibrous, and yet easy to cut, so that after six hours’ steady chopping we had made a big gap in the side, when we were obliged to leave off because it was dark.

We worked the next day and the next, and then my uncle leaned against it while I gave a few more cuts, and down it went with a crash amongst the other trees, to be ready for working up into the shape we required.

Next morning as soon as it was light we began again to cut off the top at the length we intended to have our boat, a task this which saved the labour of chopping off the branches. I worked hard, and the labour was made lighter by Uncle Dick’s pleasant conversation. For he chatted about savage and civilised man, and laughingly pointed out how the latter had gone on improving.

“You see what slow laborious work this chipping with our axes is, Nat,” he said one day, as we kept industriously on, “when by means of cross-cut saws and a circular saw worked by steam this tree could be soon reduced to thin boards ready for building our boat.”

Birds came and perched near us, and some were very rare in kind, but we felt that we must leave them alone so as to secure those we had obtained, and we worked patiently on till at the end of a week the tree began to wear outside somewhat the shape of a boat, and it was just about the length we required.

It was terribly hard work, but we did not shrink, and at last, after congratulating ourselves upon having got so far without being interfered with by the savages, we had shouldered our guns and were walking back to the hut one evening when we caught sight of a black figure running across an opening, and we knew that our time of safety was at an end.

“It is what I have always feared, Nat,” said my uncle quickly. “Quick; put big-shot cartridges in your gun. We will not spill blood if we can help it, but it is their lives or ours, and we must get safely back home.”

“What shall we do now?” I said huskily.

“Wait and see what the enemy mean to do, and—”

“Hi, yi, yi—Hi, yi, yi—Hi, yi, yi. Hey. Nat, mi boy. Ung-kul!” came shrilly through the trees.

“Hooray!” I shrieked, leaping out of my hiding-place. “Ebo! Ebo! Hi, yi, yi—Hi, yi, yi. Hooray!”

We ran to meet him, and he bounded towards us, leaping, dancing, rolling on the ground, hugging us, and seeming half mad with delight as he dragged us down to the sea-side, where a new surprise awaited us.

For there upon shore, with her anchor fixed in the sands, lay our boat apparently quite uninjured.

As Ebo danced about and patted the boat and then himself, it was plain enough to read the cause of his disappearance. He had gone off along the shore following the savages to their village, and then watched his opportunity to sail off. And this he had of course done, placing the boat safely in its old moorings.

He made signs for something to eat, and then I noticed that he looked very thin; and it was evident that the poor fellow had suffered terrible privations in getting back our treasure, and proving himself so good a friend.

Chapter Forty Three.Farewell to a Friend.“Don’t you feel disappointed, Nat?” said my uncle smiling. “We shall not be able to finish our boat.”“I shall get over it, uncle,” I said. “Hallo! what’s the matter with Ebo?”For before he had half finished eating he jumped up and made signs to us which we did not understand, and then began to drag one of the chests down towards the boat.“I see, Nat; he means it is not safe to stay,” said my uncle; and setting to work we got all our treasures safely on board, with such food and fruit as we had ready, filled the water barrel, and then paused.But Ebo was not satisfied; he chattered excitedly and signed to us to launch the boat.“I’ll take his advice,” said my uncle. “He means that the savages may be in pursuit.”So, pushing off, the sail was hoisted, and in the bright starlight of the glorious night we sailed away, carefully avoiding the reef, where the rollers were breaking heavily, and before we were half a mile from the shore Ebo pressed my arm and pointed.“Only just in time, Nat,” said my uncle.“What an escape!”For there, stealing cautiously along between us and the white sandy shore, we counted five large canoes, whose occupants were paddling softly so as to make no noise, and but for Ebo’s sharp eyes they would have passed us unseen.We had no doubt that they were going after our boat, and had they been half an hour sooner our fate would have been sealed. As it was they did not see the tall sail that swept us swiftly along, and by the time the sun rose brightly over the sea we were far enough away from danger to look upon it as another trouble passed.We ran in two or three times where we found that there were no inhabitants and obtained a few birds and some fruit; but this was so dangerous a task that we afterwards contented ourselves with fish, which we cooked upon some sandy spot or reef where the coast was clear, and we could have seen the savages at a great distance, so as to leave plenty of time for escape.My uncle turned the boat’s head south very reluctantly at last, for there was a mystery and temptation about the vast isle of New Guinea that was very attractive. The birds and insects we had collected there were, some of them, quite new to science, and he used to say that if he could have stayed there long enough our specimens would have been invaluable.Still it was impossible, for the danger was too great, and besides, as he said, we should have been nearly three years away from home by the time we reached England, and it would be our wisest course to make sure of what we had obtained.In due time we sailed to Ebo’s island, where we found that the captain of the prahu on board which we had come, had been, and sailed once more, so that it would be months before we could see him again.Under these circumstances, and to Ebo’s great delight, we left our chests of specimens sealed up in a hut, where we felt that they would be quite safe, and then, with Ebo for guide, we sailed to Ceram, a large island, where we were able to purchase stores, and from there to the Moluccas, where we did better.At both of these places we made many expeditions, collecting both birds and insects, some of them being very lovely; but there was a want of novelty about them, my uncle said, the ground having been so often visited before. And at last we sailed south again to Ebo’s island, finding all our stores and specimens quite safe and sound, and spending a few days in sunning and repacking them.By that time the captain of the prahu had arrived, ready to welcome us warmly, for he had been afraid that ill had befallen us.He could not stay long, so our chests were placed on board, and at last there was nothing to do but to take farewell of Ebo, the true-hearted fellow, whose dejected look went to my heart.He cheered up a little as my uncle gave him four new axes, as many pocket-knives, the residue of our beads and brass wire, and the remaining odds and ends that we had bought to barter; but above all, the gift that sent him off into a fit of dancing was that of the boat, all complete as it was.At first he seemed to think that he was to give us something in exchange, and consequently he began to fetch all sorts of treasures, as he considered them. When at last, though, he knew it was a present, his delight knew no bounds, and he danced and sang for joy.The next morning we said good-bye, and the last I saw of poor Ebo was as he stood in his boat watching us and waving his spear, and I’m not ashamed to say that the tears stood in my eyes as I wondered whether I should ever see that true, generous fellow again.

“Don’t you feel disappointed, Nat?” said my uncle smiling. “We shall not be able to finish our boat.”

“I shall get over it, uncle,” I said. “Hallo! what’s the matter with Ebo?”

For before he had half finished eating he jumped up and made signs to us which we did not understand, and then began to drag one of the chests down towards the boat.

“I see, Nat; he means it is not safe to stay,” said my uncle; and setting to work we got all our treasures safely on board, with such food and fruit as we had ready, filled the water barrel, and then paused.

But Ebo was not satisfied; he chattered excitedly and signed to us to launch the boat.

“I’ll take his advice,” said my uncle. “He means that the savages may be in pursuit.”

So, pushing off, the sail was hoisted, and in the bright starlight of the glorious night we sailed away, carefully avoiding the reef, where the rollers were breaking heavily, and before we were half a mile from the shore Ebo pressed my arm and pointed.

“Only just in time, Nat,” said my uncle.

“What an escape!”

For there, stealing cautiously along between us and the white sandy shore, we counted five large canoes, whose occupants were paddling softly so as to make no noise, and but for Ebo’s sharp eyes they would have passed us unseen.

We had no doubt that they were going after our boat, and had they been half an hour sooner our fate would have been sealed. As it was they did not see the tall sail that swept us swiftly along, and by the time the sun rose brightly over the sea we were far enough away from danger to look upon it as another trouble passed.

We ran in two or three times where we found that there were no inhabitants and obtained a few birds and some fruit; but this was so dangerous a task that we afterwards contented ourselves with fish, which we cooked upon some sandy spot or reef where the coast was clear, and we could have seen the savages at a great distance, so as to leave plenty of time for escape.

My uncle turned the boat’s head south very reluctantly at last, for there was a mystery and temptation about the vast isle of New Guinea that was very attractive. The birds and insects we had collected there were, some of them, quite new to science, and he used to say that if he could have stayed there long enough our specimens would have been invaluable.

Still it was impossible, for the danger was too great, and besides, as he said, we should have been nearly three years away from home by the time we reached England, and it would be our wisest course to make sure of what we had obtained.

In due time we sailed to Ebo’s island, where we found that the captain of the prahu on board which we had come, had been, and sailed once more, so that it would be months before we could see him again.

Under these circumstances, and to Ebo’s great delight, we left our chests of specimens sealed up in a hut, where we felt that they would be quite safe, and then, with Ebo for guide, we sailed to Ceram, a large island, where we were able to purchase stores, and from there to the Moluccas, where we did better.

At both of these places we made many expeditions, collecting both birds and insects, some of them being very lovely; but there was a want of novelty about them, my uncle said, the ground having been so often visited before. And at last we sailed south again to Ebo’s island, finding all our stores and specimens quite safe and sound, and spending a few days in sunning and repacking them.

By that time the captain of the prahu had arrived, ready to welcome us warmly, for he had been afraid that ill had befallen us.

He could not stay long, so our chests were placed on board, and at last there was nothing to do but to take farewell of Ebo, the true-hearted fellow, whose dejected look went to my heart.

He cheered up a little as my uncle gave him four new axes, as many pocket-knives, the residue of our beads and brass wire, and the remaining odds and ends that we had bought to barter; but above all, the gift that sent him off into a fit of dancing was that of the boat, all complete as it was.

At first he seemed to think that he was to give us something in exchange, and consequently he began to fetch all sorts of treasures, as he considered them. When at last, though, he knew it was a present, his delight knew no bounds, and he danced and sang for joy.

The next morning we said good-bye, and the last I saw of poor Ebo was as he stood in his boat watching us and waving his spear, and I’m not ashamed to say that the tears stood in my eyes as I wondered whether I should ever see that true, generous fellow again.

Chapter Forty Four.Home Again.It was on a bright sunny day in July that my uncle and I jumped into a cab and bade the man drive us to the old house, where I had passed so many happy as well as unhappy days.“We will not stop to go and see barbers or to dress, Nat, but go and take them by surprise,” said my uncle; and for the first time I began to wonder whether I had altered.“Am I very much more sunburnt than I used to be?” I said suddenly, as we drew near the door.“Well, you are not quite black,” he said laughing, “but you have altered, Nat, since they saw you last.”How my heart beat as we walked up to the front door, where the maid, a stranger, stared at us, and said that her mistress was out, and looked suspiciously at us, evidently, as she afterwards owned, taking us for sailor fellows with parrots and silk things for sale.“Where’s Uncle Joseph?” I said sharply.“Oh, please, sir, are you Master Nathaniel, who’s far away at sea?” she cried.“I am Nathaniel,” I said laughing, “but I’m not far away at sea. Where’s Uncle Joe?”“He’s down the garden, sir, smoking his pipe in the tool-house,” said the girl smiling; and I dashed through the drawing-room, jumped down the steps, and ran to the well-remembered spot, to find dear old Uncle Joe sitting there with all my treasures carefully dusted but otherwise untouched; and as I stood behind him and clapped my hands over his eyes, there was he with poor old Humpty Dumpty before him.“Who—who’s that?” he cried.“Guess!” I shouted.“I—I can’t guess,” he said. “I don’t know you. Let go or I shall call for help.”“Why, Uncle Joe!” I cried, taking away my hands and clasping his.He stared at me from top to toe, and at last said in a trembling voice:“You’re not my boy Nat?”“But indeed I am, uncle,” I cried.“My boy Natwas a boy,” he said nervously, “not a big six-foot fellow with a gruff voice, and—my dear Dick. Why, then, it is Nat after all.”The old man hugged me in his arms, and was ready to shed weak tears, for Uncle Dick had followed me and was looking on.“Why, why, why—what have you been doing to him, Dick?” cried Uncle Joe excitedly. “Here, he can’t be our Nat, and he has got a man’s voice, and he is bigger than me, and he is nearly black. Why, here’s Sophy—Sophy, dear, who’s this?”I caught her in my arms and kissed her, and she too stared at me in surprise, for I suppose I had altered wonderfully, though in my busy life of travel I had taken little note of the change.It was very pleasant to settle down once more in quiet and sort our specimens, or tell Uncle Joe of all our dangers by land and sea; but after a time, although Aunt Sophia was now very kind and different to what she had been of old, there came a strong feeling upon me at times that I should once more like to be wandering amidst the beautiful islands of the Eastern Seas, watching the wondrous beauties of the world beneath the shallow waters, or the glorious greens of the trees upon the tropic shores. The boy who loves nature goes on loving nature to the end, for I may say that Uncle Dick spoke the truth when he said that I ought to be called Nat the Naturalist, for I feel that I am Nat the Naturalist still.“Uncle Dick,” I said one day, “shall we ever have another trip together collecting birds?”“Time proves all things, my boy,” he said; “wait and see.”

It was on a bright sunny day in July that my uncle and I jumped into a cab and bade the man drive us to the old house, where I had passed so many happy as well as unhappy days.

“We will not stop to go and see barbers or to dress, Nat, but go and take them by surprise,” said my uncle; and for the first time I began to wonder whether I had altered.

“Am I very much more sunburnt than I used to be?” I said suddenly, as we drew near the door.

“Well, you are not quite black,” he said laughing, “but you have altered, Nat, since they saw you last.”

How my heart beat as we walked up to the front door, where the maid, a stranger, stared at us, and said that her mistress was out, and looked suspiciously at us, evidently, as she afterwards owned, taking us for sailor fellows with parrots and silk things for sale.

“Where’s Uncle Joseph?” I said sharply.

“Oh, please, sir, are you Master Nathaniel, who’s far away at sea?” she cried.

“I am Nathaniel,” I said laughing, “but I’m not far away at sea. Where’s Uncle Joe?”

“He’s down the garden, sir, smoking his pipe in the tool-house,” said the girl smiling; and I dashed through the drawing-room, jumped down the steps, and ran to the well-remembered spot, to find dear old Uncle Joe sitting there with all my treasures carefully dusted but otherwise untouched; and as I stood behind him and clapped my hands over his eyes, there was he with poor old Humpty Dumpty before him.

“Who—who’s that?” he cried.

“Guess!” I shouted.

“I—I can’t guess,” he said. “I don’t know you. Let go or I shall call for help.”

“Why, Uncle Joe!” I cried, taking away my hands and clasping his.

He stared at me from top to toe, and at last said in a trembling voice:

“You’re not my boy Nat?”

“But indeed I am, uncle,” I cried.

“My boy Natwas a boy,” he said nervously, “not a big six-foot fellow with a gruff voice, and—my dear Dick. Why, then, it is Nat after all.”

The old man hugged me in his arms, and was ready to shed weak tears, for Uncle Dick had followed me and was looking on.

“Why, why, why—what have you been doing to him, Dick?” cried Uncle Joe excitedly. “Here, he can’t be our Nat, and he has got a man’s voice, and he is bigger than me, and he is nearly black. Why, here’s Sophy—Sophy, dear, who’s this?”

I caught her in my arms and kissed her, and she too stared at me in surprise, for I suppose I had altered wonderfully, though in my busy life of travel I had taken little note of the change.

It was very pleasant to settle down once more in quiet and sort our specimens, or tell Uncle Joe of all our dangers by land and sea; but after a time, although Aunt Sophia was now very kind and different to what she had been of old, there came a strong feeling upon me at times that I should once more like to be wandering amidst the beautiful islands of the Eastern Seas, watching the wondrous beauties of the world beneath the shallow waters, or the glorious greens of the trees upon the tropic shores. The boy who loves nature goes on loving nature to the end, for I may say that Uncle Dick spoke the truth when he said that I ought to be called Nat the Naturalist, for I feel that I am Nat the Naturalist still.

“Uncle Dick,” I said one day, “shall we ever have another trip together collecting birds?”

“Time proves all things, my boy,” he said; “wait and see.”

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