Rob thrust in his hand again to wash away the blood, but snatched it out the next minute, for as the ruddy fluid tinged the water there was a rush of tiny fish at his hand, and he stared at half a dozen tiny bites which he had received.
“Why, they’re little fish,” he cried. “Are they the piranas you talked about, Joe?”
“Yes. What do you say to a swim now?”
“I’m willing. The splashing would drive them away.”
Shaddy chuckled again.
“The splashing would bring them by thousands,” said Joe quietly. “You can’t bathe here. Those little fish would bite at you till in a few minutes you would be covered with blood, and that would bring thousands more up to where you were.”
“And they’d eat me up,” said Rob mockingly.
“If somebody did not drag you out. They swarm in millions, and the bigger fish, too, are always ready to attack anything swimming in the stream.”
“Come and hold the tiller here, Joe, my lad,” growled Shaddy, “while I dip him a bucket of water to wash. When he knows the Paraguay like we do, he won’t want to bathe. Why, Mr Rob, there’s all sorts o’ things here ready for a nice juicy boy, from them little piranas right up to turtles and crocodiles and big snakes, so you must do your swimming with a sponge till we get on a side river and find safe pools.”
He dipped the bucket, and Rob had his wash; by that time Brazier had joined him.