“But you must be very careful, boys,” said Professor Strong. “Do not go ashore unless you are sure of your ground, and come back before sunset.”
“We’ll remember,” said Frank. “We only want to go along the river bank for a mile or two.”
In coming up to the camp both Frank and Mark had taken instructions from Cubara concerning the handling of the canoe, so they had no difficulty in embarking and paddling up the river, which so far as eye could reach was as smooth as a mill-pond excepting where the mountain torrent ran into it over the bluff.
“If only we can bring down a puma or something like that,” said Frank, as they left the camp behind. “Won’t the others be envious!”
“We’d have our hands full with a puma I’m thinking,” returned Mark. “Why they are just like the panthers of our own country. We had better try for something smaller first.”
The camp was soon out of sight, around a turn of the stream, and then they pulled in close to shore, to see if they could find any trace of something worth shooting.
“This is slow,” remarked Mark, after a long silence, during which they had paddled the best part of a mile. “I haven’t seen a single thing worth mentioning.”
“Nor I. I have half a mind to throw a line overboard and go fishing,” replied Frank.
“All right, do so, and I’ll paddle for awhile.”
The line was baited and thrown into the water. Scarcely had it sunk a yard when there came a nibble and a pull which almost caused Frank to go overboard.