“What’s that?” said Brazier, looking up from his work. “That will not do, Naylor; we should miss no end of good plants.”
“Well, sir, better do that than get into a row with any of the natives here,” growled Shaddy.
“Why, you said there were no Indians near.”
“Tchah! I mean the other natives—’sects and rept’les and what not. But there, if we put a rope to the end of that largest tree and anchor ourselves yonder I don’t suppose we shall hurt. Eh? All right,” he cried, in answer to a hint from the men; “supper’s ready, gentlemen.”
“And so are we,” said Rob with alacrity; and he leaped off the gunwale on to the tree trunk by whose side it was moored.
To all appearance it was a solid-looking stem of tons in weight, but covered with mosses, creepers, and orchids, which pretty well hid its bark.
Rob’s intention was to run along it to the root end, which stood up close to the fire; but, to his intense astonishment, he crashed through what was a mere outer shell of bark into so much dust and touchwood right up to the armpits, where he stuck, with a hedge of plants half-covering his face.
Joe burst out into a fit of laughing, in which Rob joined as soon as the first startled sensation was over.
“Who’d have thought of that?” he cried. “But, I say, I’m fast. Come and lend me a hand. I thought it was a great solid trunk, and all inside here you can see it looks as if it were on fire. Oh! oh! Ah! Help!”
“What’s the matter?” cried Brazier excitedly, as Shaddy and he stepped cautiously to the boy’s side, Joe having already mounted on the tree trunk. “Not on fire, are you?”