“Say no more now, boy. Come and let me play surgeon.”
“What, for this?” cried Rob, laughing. “It’s only a scratch, sir, and doesn’t matter a bit.”
But Brazier insisted, and soon after Rob’s forehead was ornamented with a strip of diachylon plaster, and the injury forgotten.
The men soon prepared a meal, and the rest of the day was spent in preparing the deer meat to keep in store; the effect of the hot sun being wonderful, the heat drying up the juices and checking the decomposition that might have been expected to succeed its exposure. But it in no case improved the appearance of the boat.
Toward evening Brazier did a little collecting, helped by the boys, and later on the latter fished from the boat, with no small success, so that there was no fear of the stores being placed too much under contribution for some days to come.
The fishing was brought to a close, and their captives hung over the side in a great bag composed of net, so that they could be kept alive ready for use when required; and this done, Rob turned to Giovanni.
“Come ashore, Joe,” he said.
Brazier looked up sharply from where he was taking notes and numbering his dried specimens of plants.
“Where are you going?” he said.
“Only to have a bit of a wander ashore,” replied Rob.