The Bovinander glanced approvingly at the Bahaman’s powerful arms and shoulders. “Yes, son, I ’spect you can,” he agreed. “You surely is a strong-lookin’ boy.”
Everything was soon arranged, one of the Indians was sent off to notify the men Colcord had in view, and, in preparation for an early start the next morning, all turned in almost as soon as it was dark.
The boys had never before slept in hammocks and, although Mr. Thorne and Colcord showed them how to wrap themselves in their blankets and lie diagonally across the hammocks, it was some time before they could make themselves comfortable and go to sleep. It was a new sensation to be thus going to bed practically in the open air and for a long time the boys remained awake, listening to the multitude of strange and unusual sounds which issued from every side. There were chirps, whistles, squeaks, and strident songs of insects; thousands of frogs croaked and barked and grunted; night birds called plaintively; owls hooted and from the forest in the distance came a roaring, reverberating bellow which Tom was sure must be a jaguar. But Mr. Thorne laughed and assured him it was merely a troop of howling monkeys or baboons and, to put the boys more at ease, he patiently identified each of the unusual noises that disturbed them. Gradually, realizing that there was nothing more dangerous than frogs or monkeys to be feared, and assured by the explorer that even the vampire bats would keep away as long as the lantern was kept burning, the two boys quieted down and, watching the myriad giant fireflies, dropped off to sleep.
It seemed as if they had scarcely closed their eyes when Colcord’s cheery cry of “Fireside” aroused them and they sat up, yawning sleepily, to find the sky across the river pink and gold with the coming dawn.
It was cold and chilly and the steaming coffee which Colcord had ready was very welcome.
“Golly, I thought the tropics were hot!” exclaimed Frank, as he beat his arms about and tried to keep his teeth from chattering.
Mr. Thorne chuckled. “Not at night--in the bush,” he replied. “You’ll find colder nights than this after we get farther up river.”
“Whew! I’ll want an overcoat then,” declared Tom, “or a furnace fire!”
But the boys’ chill was only temporary and a little exercise, combined with piping hot food, soon made them forget all about the cold morning air and by the time they were ready to embark in the canoe and cross the river the air was balmy and springlike.
The boys found little of interest on their ride across from Wismar to Rockstone by the railway, for the train passed through land which had been stripped of its forests by the lumbermen and the few remaining trees stood gaunt and dead above a tangle of weeds and shrubs. But at Rockstone they were delighted, for, close to the station, flowed the great Essequibo River, dark and mysterious, with its shores covered by the impenetrable tropic jungle. To them this mile-wide, silently flowing stream gave an impression of the unknown and savored of adventures to come, for Mr. Thorne had told them that its source was near the borders of Brazil and that much of its rapid and cataract-filled course led through country never seen or penetrated by white men.