At last, though, I awoke to the fact that it was time to be up and doing, for the current had swept us round a great bend of the river, and below us I saw that for a wide stretch of quite a couple of miles the river was broken up by rapids. Great masses of rock thrust their bare heads out of the water like river monsters, and round them the muddy tide bubbled, and foamed, and eddied.
It was plain enough that we were approaching a dangerous part, and had not our sense warned us of the peril we had ample warning in the increased swiftness and troubled state of the stream. I saw at a glance that a boat would have but a poor chance of existing amongst the rocky way if it should be swept there, and I had taken a firm grip of my paddle when—
“Look, Tom!” I cried.
And for a moment our attention was taken up by one of those glorious golden-green and scarlet birds—the trogons—flitting close by us, its emerald crest and gorgeous yard-long tail-feathers flashing in the sun, while its brilliant scarlet breast was for a moment reflected in the water.
“Oh, you beauty!” cried Tom. “If I only had my old gun! But, I say, Mas’r Harry, paddle away!”
Already somewhat more used to the propellers, we began to force the boat towards the opposite bank, hoping to get into an eddy that should help us along; but we had dallied with our task, and the stream now ran more swiftly than ever. Still we made some progress, and were contriving to dip together, when I almost let my paddle pass from my hands, for a strange, wild cry rang along the surface of the water.
“What’s that?” I exclaimed.
“I should say it was one of them pleasant brutes out for a holiday—one of them tiger or leopard things, like what we used to see in Wombwell’s show, like great tomcats. I’ll lay a wager this is the spot where they live when they’re at home and go yowling about.”
“There it is again!” I exclaimed excitedly. “Why, it was a cry for help. There is some one in the river!”
“Then he’d better hold his tongue,” said Tom, “and not get shouting, or he’ll have all these great beasts come rushing at him, same as they did in the ponds at home when we used to throw in a worm upon a bent pin and fish for the little newts. There, Mas’r Harry, look at that chap!”