“Yes, my boy; but I want to get up into the interior, and we must find a road.”
“A road means civilisation,” I said.
“Ah! but I mean one of Nature’s roads—a river. Sooner or later we shall find one up which we can sail, and when that is no longer possible we must row or pole.”
“Then we shall find the advantage, uncle, of having a little crew, and—what’s the matter now?”
I stared in astonishment, for the minute before Pete and the carpenter were busy feeding the fire and trying to get the kettle they had swung, gypsy fashion, on three bamboos, to boil. Now they were both crawling towards us on all-fours, Pete getting over the ground like a dog.
“It’s all over, Master Nat, and good-bye if yer never sees us again. It’s Robinson Crusoe out in the woods now.”
“Why, Bill,” I said, “has he gone mad?”
“Pretty nigh, sir. Look.”
“Look at what?”
“Steamer, sir, found the boat, I s’pose, and they’re coming round the point to pick us up. Good luck to you, gentlemen, and good-bye.”