CHAPTER IX.
WE HEAR STRANGE NEWS.
An hour later we were bivouacking on a tree-shaded plateau, not far from the outskirts of the forest of which the native guides had spoken. We all required rest, and it had become absolutely necessary to refresh the inner man, marching and fighting having somewhat exhausting effects on the systems of even the strongest men. We had also to await the arrival of Mr. Triggs and his escort, before pushing on into the depths of the jungle. Meanwhile, the gunnery lieutenant sent out spies, with orders to try to ascertain the line of retreat taken by the flying cavalry, and to obtain any other news they could pick up regarding the whereabouts of other bodies of the enemy. The baggage-animals were resting under the shade of a clump of trees—if a constant warfare with swarms of teasing flies can be called rest. Sentries with loaded rifles were posted at various points of vantage in order to guard against any surprise by the enemy.
As soon as tiffin had been disposed of, the officers lit their pipes or cigars, trusting that the tobacco smoke would drive away the insect pests, which seemed unusually plentiful in the vicinity of the jungle. We midshipmen were not allowed to smoke, and suffered a good deal in consequence.
“This jungle will be a nasty place to march through,” said the captain of marines to Mr. Thompson. “Can’t we avoid it in any way by making a detour?”
“We shall have to traverse it,” answered the gunnery lieutenant; “but it isn’t so bad as you might think. A broad track has been cut through it, and where this route runs the majority of the trees have been felled. The forest itself is not very dense in any part—at least, so the guides assure me.”
“I hope these guides are trustworthy fellows,” observed Dr. Grant as he lit a cigar. “They look to me the greatest villains unhung.”
“Perhaps they’re treacherous scoundrels,” said Fitzgerald, who had been bandaging his injured foot, an operation in which the flies seemed to take a lively interest. “We shall have to take care that they don’t lead us into an ambush.”
“Don’t croak, youngster,” said Mr. Thompson; “we’re paying them too well for that sort of thing to happen.”
“One thing I feel pretty well sure of,” said the marine officer, “and that is, that if we follow up the enemy too closely, we shall miss finding the cargo altogether.”
“What do you mean?” demanded the lieutenant.