“Take care, Rob!” he shouted; “the water here swarms with alligators. One little wretch was coming at me just now.”
“Yes, sir, better mind!” cried Shaddy. “We’ve just had one here.” Then turning to Rob,—
“Now, Master Rob, sir, what do you say to our spending the day making bows and arrows?”
“I’m ready.”
“And perhaps, Mr Brazier, sir, you wouldn’t mind trying for another fish for dinner, in case we don’t get our shooting tackle ready.”
Brazier nodded, and soon after prepared to fish, but even in their peculiar strait he could not refrain from looking longingly at plant, insect, and bird, especially at a great bunch of orchids which were pendent from a bough.
He did not seem likely to have much success in the pool or eddy where the other fish had been caught, and soon after moved off to another place, but meanwhile Rob and Shaddy were busy in the extreme, the latter making some half-charred pieces of wood from the fire into little hardened points ready for Rob to fix into the cleft he split in the end of each reed and then binding them tightly in, making a notch for the bow-string at the other end, and laying them down one by one finished for the sheaf he had set himself to prepare.
These done, Rob began upon the silken bow-string, pulling out the threads from his neckerchief and tying them together till he had wound up what promised to be enough, afterwards doubling and twisting them tightly, while Shaddy was whistling softly and using his pocket-knife as if it were a spoke-shave to fine down the thick end of the piece of wood intended for the bow.
“Strikes me, Mr Rob,” he said, “that we shall have to use this very gingerly, or it will soon break. I know what I wish I had.”
“What?” asked Rob.