“Very well,” assented the other. “I trust to your judgment, Thorne.”
Colcord’s house proved a revelation to the boys. It was merely a huge open shed, with a high, thatched roof, a floor of hewn boards raised several feet above the earth, and one small room partitioned off by wattled palm leaves. Its furnishings consisted of a rough table of native wood, a few cheap chairs, a number of big hammocks, a nickel-plated alarm clock, and an American lantern. On the rafters overhead were spread woven palm leaf mats on which were placed Indian baskets and trays; a huge red earthen jug of water stood on a tripod of hard wood sticks; a long, highly polished bow and several six-foot arrows were laid upon a timber; and a single-barreled gun stood in a corner. It seemed scarcely more than a camp and might well have been the home of an Indian, but they soon found that this rude and primitive dwelling was very comfortable and that, despite its simplicity and its meager furnishings, no necessity was lacking.
Colcord’s wife, who appeared to be of nearly pure Indian blood, was busy over a tiny fire in a small shed in the rear and no sooner had the Indian boatmen brought the baggage into the house than they joined her and seemed perfectly at home. Presently the Akawoia, Joseph, appeared, carrying a steaming earthenware pot, and Colcord rapidly produced dishes and cutlery and set the table. As he moved about and Joseph brought in more steaming dishes, the boys lolled in the hammocks in the deliciously cool breeze and idly watched the chickens, doves, and woefully thin dogs that swarmed about the house. They knew that less than a mile distant was a town, with railway trains, a sawmill, and shipping, and that only a few hours’ travel by steamer was the big busy port of Georgetown, and yet, they could not help feeling that they were in the heart of the jungle and far beyond the reach of civilization.
“Gosh, isn’t it great!” exclaimed Tom. “This is really camping out.”
“You bet!” replied Frank. “I wonder if there are any wild animals about.”
“Plenty deer,” declared Colcord, who overheard Frank. “I made fo’ to kill one this marnin’. I ’spect you folks plenty hungry, no?”
“Well, I have got a mighty good appetite,” admitted Tom.
“Me too,” added Frank. “Gee, that food smells good!”
“O. K., then,” declared the Boviander. “Jus’ draw up an’ he’p yourselves. I ’spect you’re not accustom’ to rough livin’ like this, an I have to ’pologize fo’ not havin’ more better.”
“Now don’t say a word!” Mr. Thorne admonished him, as the party drew chairs to the table. “I’ll bet they never tasted anything better than this venison and yams and pepper pot, and it’s like the Ritz compared to what we’ll be getting from now on.”