“Frogs!” said Shaddy promptly. “There’s some rare fine ones out here. There, go and lie down, my lad.”
“Why are you in such a hurry to get rid of me? You are watching. Can’t I keep you company?”
“Glad to have you, my lad, but I was picked out by Skipper Ossolo because I know all about the country and the river ways, wasn’t I?”
“Yes, of course.”
“Very well, then. I give you good advice. You don’t want to be ill and spoil your trip, so, to keep right, what you’ve got to do is to eat and drink reg’lar and sensible and take plenty of sleep.”
“Oh, very well,” said Rob, with a sigh. “I’ll go directly.”
“It means steady eyes and hands, my lad. I know: it all sounds very wild and strange up here, but you’ll soon get used to it, and sleep as well as those Indian lads do. There, good-night.”
“Good-night,” said Rob reluctantly. “But isn’t it nearly morning?”
“Not it, five hours before sunrise; so go and take it out ready for a big day—such a trip as you never dreamed of.”
“Very well,” replied Rob, and he crept quietly back to his place under the canvas covering, but sleep would not come, or so it seemed to him. But all at once the mingling of strange sounds grew muffled and dull, and then he opened his eyes, to find that the place where he lay was full of a soft, warm glow, and Joe was bending over him and shaking him gently.