“Then now have the goodness to use your glass well, and sweep all the shelves up the farther shore to see if you can make out any sign of an Indian village, sir. Seems a wonderfully likely place for people to be living.”
At that moment there was a heavy splash as a large silvery fish flung itself completely out of the water and then fell back, while the noise it made startled a covey of ducks, which went fluttering and paddling up stream.
“Must be inhabitants here, I should say,” exclaimed the American, shading his eyes with his hand. “A bit shut in and shady, but all the better in a tropical country: why, it’s lovely. Here, gentlemen, I’m getting a bit tired of being cramped up in a boat. I vote we call this Golden Valley and come and live here for a year or two.”
“To hunt for the Golden City?” said Brace mischievously.
“Oh, no,” said Briscoe quietly; “this place makes me feel as if I didn’t want to hunt for anything, only to knock myself up a hut, or to find a sort of cave up on one of these shelves, and then just go on living like. Why, it’s a ready-made Paradise, and we seem to have pretty nearly got beyond the reach of the flood.”
“Then let’s lie up here,” said the captain, “and set your Dan to work. It is very beautiful, but it will be better after we’ve had a bit of something to eat.”