“Don’t go far, my boy,” said the captain; and Mark started, for he had thought his father was asleep, while on looking at him he still lay back in the same position with his eyes closed.
“No, father, I won’t go far,” he said.
“Keep within range of a shout—well within range, for it’s very easy to get lost in one of these jungles, and we shall be too tired to hunt for you now.”
“I won’t go far,” said Mark; and he and Billy Widgeon began to walk slowly back along the stream, looking to left and right for a way between the trees into the jungle.
“You thought the skipper was asleep?” said Billy in a whisper. “Never ketches him asleep, as we all knows. It’s always t’other. So soon as one o’ us as ought to be awake goes off, he finds us out, and no mistake.”
Mark did not answer, and Billy went on:
“It’s my belief that when the skipper shuts his eyes he sets his ears to work to see and hear too. Ah, here we are! Here’s a place where we can go in. I say, Mr Mark, did you eat any o’ that cold treacle pooden?”
“No? Bill, I did not.”
“Good job, too, sir. It was cooked in one o’ they hot springs, and I’m blest if it didn’t taste like brimstone and treacle. Lor’, how thirsty I am! Wish I could find one o’ them wooden-box fruit.”
“What? cocoa-nuts?”