There was no answer, and he caught hold of the boy.
“Hi, uncle! quick! the gun! It’s got hold of my arm.”
“What has?”
“Oh, it’s you,” said Ned, with a sigh of relief. “I dreamed something seized me, and I didn’t know whether it was a tiger or a croc.”
Chapter Four.
Guests or Prisoners?
Five more days were passed ascending the river, which by degrees began to display banks that were park-like and densely packed with forest trees. The dismal mangroves had disappeared, and in their place graceful palms shot up and spread their feathered plumes; bamboos rose in clumps like gigantic grasses, and canes swung from branch to branch, and festooned specimens of timber which was often one blaze of colour, and whose petals sprinkled the now bright clear water.
A tiny village was passed at intervals, and from time to time some boat floated by them deeply laden with rice or tea. At night the boat was moored to some tree trunk. The men went ashore, and collected wood and lit a fire for cooking purposes, and then all returned to sleep on board before starting early in the cool misty morning, so as to have some hours’ rest in the middle of the day, before the journey was resumed in the evening.