"I wonder if these shells can be put to no use?" asked Harold.
"Certainly," Robert responded. "If we need lime we can obtain it by burning them. These large round shells may be cut so as to make handsome cups and vases. The long ones are used by many poor people for spoons. And the conch makes a capital trumpet; our negroes on the seaboard make a hole in the small end for this purpose. We often hear the boatmen blowing their conchs at night; and when the sound comes to us across the water, as an accompaniment to their boat songs, it is particularly sweet."
On learning these uses of the conch shell, Harold selected several fine specimens, and threw them higher on the beach, remarking, that in case they remained upon the island they would need other signals than those of the gun or the smoke for calling each other's attention; and that he intended to try his skill in converting some of these shells into trumpets.
Pocketing some of the most delicate varieties for Mary and Frank, they continued down the coast, attracted by a large white object near the water-side. At first it appeared to be a great heap of foam thrown there by the sea, but soon they saw it move, and Robert pronounced it to be a pelican. "It is a pity that it is not eatable," said he, "for one bird would furnish more flesh than a larger gobbler. But it is fishy."
"O, if that be its only fault we can correct it," replied Harold. "I recollect one day when you were sea-sick, hearing the captain say that he had eaten every sea-bird that flies, except Mother Cary's chickens; and that he took off the skin as you would that of a deer or rabbit, and soaked the flesh in strong brine; or if he was on shore he buried it for a day or two in the earth, and that then the flesh was pleasant enough. He said, moreover, that the fishy taste of water-fowl comes mostly from the skin. Come, let us get that fellow. I cannot help thinking what a nice shawl, in cold or rainy weather, his skin would make for Mary, if properly cured with all its feathers on."
The pelican, however, saved them all future trouble on account of either its flesh or its skin, for, being a very shy bird, it flew away long before they came within gunshot. Having ascended the bluff, they stood upon a bank of sand, and looking far down the coast saw it curve out of sight, without offering any inducement to pursue it further. Immediately upon the bluff, and for a quarter of a mile inland, the country was bare of trees, except here and there a cluster of dwarfish cedars, overtopped by tall palmettoes; but in the interior the forest trees appeared rising into loftier magnificence the farther they grew from the sea. Striking across this barren strip--which, however, was pleasantly varied by patches of cacti loaded with superb crimson pears, and by little wildernesses of chincopin (dwarf-chestnut) bushes, whose open burrs revealed each a shining jet black cone--and entering the kind of forest where game might be expected, Harold gave Mum the order to "Hie on"; and he was soon dashing about in every direction.
"I suppose," said Robert, "that you intend to still hunt. But if so, you must remember that I have the art yet to learn; and if you wish not to be interrupted by my blunders, you had better describe now, before we go to work, how it is that still hunters find their game, and then how they approach it."
"They find their game by various means," Harold replied, acknowledging, at the same time, the justice of Robert's remarks. "Some by their own keen eyes alone in watching or in tracking; others by a dog trained for the purpose, as we expect to do. This last is the easier if the dog is good. When Mum has discovered a trail, he will keep directly before us, and as the trail freshens he will grow more cautious, until at last his step becomes as stealthy and noiseless as a cat. We must then be cautious too. If the woods are close so that we cannot see the deer, nor they see us until we are upon them, our success will depend upon the quickness of our shots, and the certainty of our aim; but if the woods are open, so that we can see them afar off, we must use the cover of a hill or of a thicket to conceal our approach, or else one of us must leave the dog with the other, and advance upon them in the open woods."
"But you do not mean to say," Robert argued, in surprise, "that deer will allow you to come upon them in broad day-light, and shoot them down?"
"Yes, I do," he replied; "and it is easy enough if you will pursue the right plan. When a deer feeds, he directs his eyes to the ground; and during that time he sees nothing except what is just at his nose. That is the opportunity you must take to advance. The moment he lifts his head you must stand stock still; and if you can manage to be of the colour of a stump, he will be apt to take you for one."