“That’s a cheerful outlook for Andy Hume,” murmured Mark. “I sincerely hope he doesn’t go crazy through loneliness.”
“I have heard of such cases in our own country,” put in the professor. “Some miners went crazy during the gold fever in California, and only a few months ago I was reading in the newspapers of a prospector in Alaska who had gone insane through having lost himself in the mountains. It is no child’s play—this trying to make nature yield up her secrets.”
Fishing lasted all of the morning, and by noon they had twenty-odd specimens of the finny tribe in a pool of fresh water among the rocks. Most of the catch were of the perch variety, although somewhat different from the class usually found in our own streams.
“Haven’t run across any of those wonderful electric eels,” said Hockley. “I thought we’d be sure to be shocked to death,” he added, with a sniff.
“Electric eels not here,” said Cubara. “Take you to dem udder day maybe.”
“I want to go hunting first,” put in Sam. He was longing to shoot something big.
“We’ll go hunting this afternoon,” said the professor.
“I don’t care to go hunting,” said Hockley. “I’d rather take it easy to-day.”
“Very well, then, you may remain in camp with Cubara, Hockley.”
The dinner was rather a hasty one, and a short while later Professor Strong and four of the boys set out. Each was armed with a rifle or shotgun, and each carried some food for supper, should they not return until late.