It was late in the day, the dews were falling thickly after the heat of the noontide; and a quantity of hares were hopping about, feeding upon the grass around him. They did not seem to be afraid of him, and he shot one without difficulty, and looked forward to making a good supper upon him, for he was hungry.
He laid it at the foot of the tree beneath which he had reposed, and began to collect wood with which to make a fire. Whilst doing this, he lost sight of the hare for a few minutes; and, on returning to the spot where he had laid it, he found a couple of huge crows tugging away at it to make it their own; and the burying beetles already digging a grave beneath it. An army of ants was swarming over it, and so persistent in their attentions that they would not leave it even when Ralph tore the skin off its back, and set it down to cook by his fire, wrapped thickly up in leaves.
However, he was too hungry to be very particular, although nothing had ever yet brought him to eat fried caterpillars or maggots, as a Burman will. He scraped off the ants to the best of his ability, and sought, while his meal was preparing, for some fruits, of which to make an agreeable conclusion to it.
He had the good fortune to discover some, of which he immediately partook, being parched and feverish. They refreshed him; and it was perhaps partly from this cause, and partly from his long sleep, that, his senses being perfectly alert, he chanced to notice a small orchid blooming upon a tree which he was convinced was one quite new to Mr. Gilchrist's collection. It differed in several material points from all which he had yet seen, but was certainly an orchid.
He carefully cut away the piece of bark upon which it grew, and looked about for more of it. He found another very small plant, which he secured, but the evening was becoming too dark for him to seek farther. He therefore returned to his fire, and made himself as comfortable beside it as circumstances permitted.
He did not sleep much that night, but dozed and woke again many times,—piling green wood upon the embers every time, so that the smoke thus engendered should keep off the mosquitoes from him.
At a little distance, beneath the trees, the fireflies swarmed, flashing about hither and thither, and making light in shady places. This light was caught and returned by the shining backs of a thousand beetles,—green, blue, crimson, and copper-hued. Flying foxes flitted by in search of guavas and other fruits; and bats of every size and description swarmed around, hawking on the wing for their suppers.
Ralph watched all these creatures dreamily, seeing, but too drowsy to think about them actively. The heavy scent of night-perfumed flowers overpowered his faculties, and confused his powers of mind, almost as much as if he had partaken of a narcotic.
Was it only a dream, or a dream-like fancy then, or did he really hear the faint ripple of flowing water? His senses became all at once preternaturally acute. He sprang up from his reclining position, and listened intently. No, it was not a mistake,—it was not a trick of the imagination; a little rill of water was running over stones hard by. In the comparative silence of the night the gentle sound made itself plainly audible.
He did not dare to leave the friendly protection of his fire in the dark, the jungle was too full of danger for that, but he laid a long branch, torn from a bush, in the direction from which the sound proceeded, and anxiously awaited the dawn.