“Certainly.”
“But it’s a feverish sort o’ place, gentlemen, very hot. There’s lot’s o’ dangerous and poisonous things about, and I have heard that the Injuns on the banks have a bad habit of shooting poisoned arrows from their bows, or little tiny ones from their blowpipes. Ain’t it rather a mad idea?”
“That’s what the sailors told Columbus,” said the younger man, who had been sitting in silence.
“Yes,” said his brother, “and it was not a mad thing to discover America.”
“Well, no, sir,” said the captain, dabbing his dewy head once more; “but you can’t discover America over again.”
“Of course not, but though North America has been traversed over and over again, how very little is known of the interior of South America!”
“Ha!” ejaculated the captain, screwing up his face; “if you put it in that way, gentlemen, we don’t seem to know much about it, certainly: only that there’s some big rivers there. I s’pose about as big as any of ’em. I did sail up one of the mouths for a bit once.”
“Ah!” cried the younger man excitedly, “and what did you see? Strange wild beasts—wonderful trees on the shores—beautifully-coloured birds—great serpents—monkeys, and the great sea-cows?”
The captain’s face shone as he wrinkled it up till his eyes were nearly closed.
“Well, why don’t you speak?” said his questioner. “You could not go up that vast river without seeing some wonders. What did you see?”