Had the Burglar's three confederates been with him, possibly he might not have wavered but fallen upon the two friends before they were in possession of their weapons. Possibly—because Chéri-Bibi and the Nut, even unarmed, were men to be feared.
They had by this time satisfied their hunger from a tin of preserved meat, and Chéri-Bibi slung his rifle on his shoulder ready to set out for the chase.
"Sharpen your teeth," he said; "I'm going to have a look round for your dinner, and I can assure you that there won't be such a spread even at the Commandant's table. But let's do a little fishing to start with."
"Are you going shooting and fishing at the same time?" inquired the Nut, who since he had seen the good things at their disposal had forgotten his troubles and was as light-hearted as a child.
"You'll soon see how I do my fishing," returned Chéri-Bibi.
He went up to the river bank and, handing his rifle to the Nut, took from his precious kit-bag, which he had flung over his shoulders, a dynamite cartridge. A minute later the cartridge exploded in the river, and straightway dozens of fish, both big and small, floated on the seething waters, belly upwards.
"Well, what do you say to some fried fish?"
"I'm sorry we've got rid of a dynamite cartridge. We've only two left."
"That's more than we shall want," returned Chéri-Bibi. "What's the use of them if not for fishing? In the old days, when I amused myself by going prospecting for gold in the forest, they came in handy, but now I've no need of them, and I'll tell you why after dinner."
Chéri-Bibi began shooting, and had the good fortune to "bring down" a tapir and a partridge. The partridge was the size of a chicken and the tapir as big as a pony. In South America the flesh of the tapir is considered one of the best among red meats; and with the fish which they picked up on the surface of the water after the explosion of their dynamite cartridge, their dinner could not fail to be an appetizing one.