The boy was silenced, and followed the doctor as he pressed on for some distance farther, till the valley opened out a little and there was ample room to walk on the same level as the river, here gliding gently in the full sunshine, with its banks beautiful with flower, insect, and bird.
Every here and there, though, there were hot sandy patches dotted with peculiar-looking black stone lying in masses, cracked and riven as if by fire, while parts were cindery and vesicular, others glistening in the sunshine like black glass.
“You take the lead now, Carey,” said the doctor. “You can’t go wrong; only follow the river; it will lead you right up to the lake.”
“Wouldn’t you rather lead, sir?”
“No, my lad; I want you to have the first chance at anything worth shooting. Keep your eyes well open, and you may catch sight of the great crowned pigeons. There, forward.”
Carey needed no further orders, and full of excitement he stepped on in front, looking keenly to right and left, and scanning every bush and tree. For the first mile he saw nothing larger than parrots, but turning into a stony part where the sand and pebbles reflected the sun with a glowing heat, something suddenly darted up from before him and ran rapidly in amongst a rugged pile of scattered stones.
“Here! a young crocodile,” he cried.
“Nonsense, boy. There are no crocodiles here,” cried the doctor. “One of the great mountain lizards.”
“Too big! Six feet long,” said Carey, excitedly.
“Well, they grow seven or eight. Go on.”