“That won’t do,” he cried.
“What’s the matter, Shaddy?”
“Matter?” growled the guide; “why, can’t you see, sir? There won’t be a bit left by the time we’ve gone a mile. Look at ’em tearing away at it. Well, I never shall have any sense in my head. To think of me not knowing any better than that!”
He unfastened the rope hanging astern, and hauled the dead animal along the side to the bows of the boat, with fish large and small dashing at it and tugging away by hundreds, making the water boil, as it were, with, their rapid movement.
“Tchah! I’m growing stoopid, I think,” growled Shaddy as he hauled the water-pig in over the bows, the fish hanging on and leaping up at it till it was out of reach; and then their journey was continued till a suitable halting-place was reached, where by a roaring fire objects that required drying were spread out, while the meat was cooked and the coffee made, so that by the time they lay down to rest in the boat there was not much cause for fear of fever.
Chapter Eighteen.
A Catastrophe.
The next morning the sun was drinking up the mists at a wonderful rate when Rob opened his eyes, saw Joe close by him fast asleep, and raised his hand to give him a friendly slap, but he checked himself.