“Good six feet long, Rob,” said Brazier, who had measured it by taking two long paces. “Something like a catch, Giovanni. Can you get the fish out of its jaws, Naylor?”
“Oh yes, I think so, sir.”
“Mind, for these creatures are very retentive of life.”
“Oh yes, I know ’em, sir. I’ll get the chopper and take his head off first.”
“But we are not going to eat that fish now, Mr Brazier, are we?”
“Well, I don’t know, Rob. If it is well washed and skinned, it cannot be any the worse, and we have nothing else in the way of fish or meat.”
“Wrong, sir,” said Shaddy, making a very wide smile; “look at that.”
He pointed toward the top of the little clearing where the boatman had forced his way in amongst the tangled growth, and gone on hewing his way through bush, thorn, vine, and parasitical growth, to reappear just in the nick of time with the bustard-looking bird hanging from his left hand, dead.
“Says he had to go in a long way,” said Shaddy, after a short conversation with the man, who, weary though he was with his exertions, immediately set to work by the fire picking the bird and burning its feathers, with the result that the Europeans of the little expedition confined themselves to the windward side of the fire till the man had done.
“Never had such a delicious supper before in my life,” said Rob two hours later, as they sat in the boat eating oranges and watching the gorgeous colours of the sky.