Chapter Twelve.
Doctor Kingsmead said nothing about his adventures until he had made a hearty meal and grown cooler. Then he began to talk cheerily.
“Something for you to cook, Bostock,” he said; “they’ll make a pleasant change after so much tinned and salt meat.”
“Where did you shoot those?” asked Carey.
“Up yonder in the open forest under one of the trees, not far from the river. There are plenty of them about, and so tame that I felt satisfied that there were no blacks near.”
“Then you’ve seen no signs of any, sir?” asked Bostock.
“Not a sign.”
“That’s good, sir, but it don’t mean much, for we might have a visit from a big canoe-full at any time.”