Chapter Seventeen.
Where the Boys were.
“Doesn’t matter out here, doesn’t it?” said Ned. “Well, I tell you what it is. I shall talk to uncle about it, and he’ll speak to the doctor, and tell him it would be disgraceful.”
“Don’t talk so loudly; those fellows are close behind.”
“But they can’t talk English.”
“No; but some of them have heard so much that I often think they understand a little of what is said.”
“I don’t see any one about.”
“Perhaps not, but they’re following us all the same, and if you were to make a rush off now, very likely you’d run up against one of them, ready to stop you. But I don’t know,” continued Frank, looking stealthily about; “I’ve got regular cat’s eyes now, with going to the jungle edge of a night to set and watch traps with the men. I don’t see any one about. What do you say to a walk down to the jetty?”
“What for?”
“To hear the crocodiles at play. They have fine games there of a night, splashing and chasing one another.”