But though they progressed nearly a mile inland not a bird was visible. There was the loud whizzing whirr of innumerable cicadas, and once or twice they heard a piping cry, after that all was stifling heat and silence.
Their progress was very slow, for after finding there was not much chance of getting a shot the various members of the party began to inspect the objects around them. The major lit his cigar, Mr Gregory examined the sand to see if it contained gold, Mr Morgan tried to find crystals among the pebbles, Mark gazed up at the patches of ferns and orchids among the branches of the trees, and Small and Billy Widgeon took a great deal of interest in the various pools they passed, but found no fish, for at their coming the occupants of the pools took fright and stirred up the sand and mud so that the water became discoloured.
“And I lays as they’re eels,” said Billy Widgeon, as he carried on a discussion with Small.
“And I says they’re big jacks or pikes,” replied the boatswain; “but I want to know wheer they’re going to feed the beasts.”
“Feed what beasts?” said Mark, who was listening to their dispute and gazing down into a good-sized pool where the water was still in motion.
“These here beasts, sir,” said Small with a grin. “All on us. These canvas bags is heavy, and I want to see the weight o’ the wittles distributed. Much easier to carry that way, and the bottles pitched overboard.”
“Hist!” whispered Billy Widgeon, who was peering through some bushes where the little river made a curve.
“Whatch yer found, Billy?”
“Don’t make a row, and come and look here, Mr Mark, sir. Here’s such a whacking great effet, same as used to be in our pond at home.”
Mark hurried to his side, followed by Small.