Jack had halted at the foot of a perpendicular wall of moss-grown rock, and set the example, after disturbing the grass and ferns at the foot, of sitting down, and Ned lay at full length.
“Lovely, sir,” he said. “It’s worth while to get regular tired so as to enjoy a rest like this. I don’t s’pose they’ll go much farther, and they must come back this way, I suppose.”
“I think so, Ned. They couldn’t come back through the forest, and they would not as soon as they missed us, they’d be sure to come this way so as to pick us up.”
He was silent for a few moments, and then went on softly, as his eyes wandered over the trees and creepers about them—
“How lovely it all is, with the sun sprinkling light through the leaves. It looks just like silver rain. Look at that great flapping moth. That must be an Atlas, I suppose. I ought to try and catch it, but it seems such a pity to go out and destroy every beautiful thing one sees, so as to turn it into a specimen. Look at those orchid clusters growing out of the stump where the tree branches. Shall I pick it, Ned? Say yes, and I won’t. I haven’t forgotten the little snake which crept out on to my hand that time. Hallo! What bird’s that? What a chance for a shot!”
As he sat there with a gun across his knees, first one and then half-a-dozen large birds, emboldened by the silence, came stalking out from beneath the bushes, looking something like so many farmyard hens as they began to peck and scratch about.
“What a chance!” thought Jack. “I might get a couple for roasting, but we’ve killed enough things for one day.”
He sat perfectly still, watching the birds till they had crossed a little opening in front and slowly began to make their way up the slope in the direction taken by the doctor, Lenny, and the four men with them.
Then all at once one of the birds uttered a low clucking sound, and stood up with outstretched neck gazing in Jack’s direction.
The bird was absolutely motionless for a few moments, then it ducked down its neck and ran off beneath the undergrowth.