“Why, what else does?” said Carey, rubbing himself softly.
“Crocodiles and alligators strike with tremendous force; the former will sweep cattle or human beings off a river bank into the water; and I daresay those monster lizards attack small animals in the same way.”
“But I’m not a small animal, sir,” said the boy, shortly. “Yes, it’s all very well to laugh, Doctor Kingsmead, and talk about studying a whopping from a natural history point of view, but one couldn’t study wasps comfortably sitting on their nest.”
“No, and I daresay the cuts were very painful, but the sting will soon pass off.”
“Yes, it’s getting better now,” said Carey, looking a little more cheerful; “but old Bob keeps on grinning about it. He doesn’t look at me, but he keeps on chuckling to himself every minute, and that’s what it means. I wish he’d get stung, or something. Hi! look out. Snake!”
His shout aroused a sleeping boa—not one of the giants of its kind, but a good-sized serpent of the sort known among Australian settlers as the carpet snake.
The reptile had been sleeping in the sunshine and, startled into activity, made for its lair, a dense patch of woodland, escaping before anyone could get a shot.
“That’s a pretty good proof that this isle was at one time joined to the mainland, Carey,” said the doctor, “and this would account for the volcano we are ascending being so dwarfed. There must have been a gradual sinking, and so it is that we find creatures that would not inhabit an ordinary island. For instance, we should not find monitors and carpet snakes in a coral island. Look at the birds too; those kingfishers. Do you see, Bostock, there’s an old friend of ours, the great laughing jackass?”
“Nay,” said the old sailor, shading his eyes; “that’s not the same. He’s a deal like him, but our old laughing jackasses down south haven’t got all that bright blue in their jackets. Going to shoot him, Master Carey?”
“No,” said the boy; “I don’t want it. ’Tisn’t good to eat.”