“Well, you are going to have his. I’ll carry a rifle, so as to bring down all the bucks.”
“How soon do we start?”
“Directly. Old Burgess is looking as blue as Butters’ nose because he has got to stop at home, and Butters himself is doing nothing else but growl. He didn’t like it a bit when the dad said that he must be tired after the other night’s work. But he’s got to stop.”
Half-an-hour later the well-manned boat was being pulled vigorously up the rapidly narrowing river, with the two boys in the bows, on the look-out for anything worthy of powder and shot which might appear on either bank; but there was nothing save beauty to recompense their watchful eyes.
Birds were plentiful enough, and of the loveliest plumage, while every now and then a loud splash followed the movement of what seemed to be a log of wood making the best of its way into deep water. And once high in a mighty tree which shot up its huge bole from the very mud of the bank, Poole pointed out a curious knot of purple, dull buff and brown, right in the fork where a large branch joined the bole. “Not a serpent, is it?” whispered Fitz. “It is, though,” was the reply; and the middy raised his piece.
“No, no; don’t shoot,” said Poole softly. “It isn’t good to eat, and we might be giving the alarm.”
Fitz lowered the double gun with a sigh, and the boat glided on, sending the rushing water in a wave to go lapping amongst the bushes that overhung from the bank, and directly after the serpent knot was hidden by the leaves.
The rapid little river wound here and there, and they went on mile after mile, with the steamy heat growing at times almost unbearable. But the men did not murmur, tugging away at their oars and seeming to enjoy the beauty of the many scenes through which they passed, for every now and then the river widened out, to look like some shut-in lake. And so mile after mile was passed, no spot where they could land presenting itself in the dense jungle which covered the banks, and it was not till afternoon that at a sudden turn they came upon an opening which had evidently been produced by the axe, while a short distance farther on at a word from the skipper the progress of the boat was checked at a roughly-made pier of piles driven into the mud, to which were pinned huge sticks of timber, beyond which was a rough corduroy road leading evidently to something in the way of civilisation.
“It must be up here somewhere, boys,” said the skipper. “Two of you stop as keepers, my lads, while we land and go and see. The hacienda must certainly be hereabouts from the description Don Ramon gave;” and as all stepped on to the rough timber pier, the skipper instructed the boat-keepers to get well under shelter out of the sun and to keep strict watch, before leading the way along the wooded road through the thick growth which had newly sprung up amongst the butts of the great trees that had been felled or burned off level with the soil.
It must not be judged from this, that it was any scene of desolation, for every stump and relic of fallen tree was ornamented with lovely orchids, or wreathed with tangling vines. Butterflies of the most vivid hues fluttered here and there in the glorious sunshine, while humming-birds literally flashed as they darted by.