“Oh,” replied Curtis, “that is a secret not known to all naturalists. Many of these birds are fishing for the rookery, or rather, for their own particular nest in it; but there are very many who choose not to enter into the holy bonds of matrimony at all, and great rogues and cheats these bachelors are, and seem to do their best, or rather worst, to annoy the more sober and staid married folks.
“And this is true,” he added, “of nearly all birds that congregate in colonies, and even of our own humble household British sparrow.”
After a most delightful luncheon, in which the eggs of the sea-birds figured largely, it was proposed by Curtis that they should re-embark, and, rowing round past a cape, visit a still undiscovered part of the island.
They had some difficulty in finding a landing-place, but managed to do so at last, and leaving two men with the boat, the others started off into the interior in search of adventures.
No wild beasts here, no savages, for the place is uninhabited. The hearts of our heroes were young, however; and although they journeyed quite six miles into the interior, through rugged ravines and ice-cold streams, without, of course, the vestige of a road, all were as happy as the day was going to be long.
They found many rare specimens of flora, some eggs, and a few fossils of long-extinct shells.
They were returning by what was considered a near cut, though the ground was higher and far rougher, when suddenly, on the brink of a ravine, the ground gave way under the feet of poor Curtis, and he suddenly disappeared into a kind of crevasse.
They could hear him shouting for a very short time, but his cries seemed to wax feebler and feebler, and then were heard no more.
What was to be done? To descend was impossible without a rope, and here there was none.
But Ingomar, as soon as he recovered somewhat from the grief and shock—for it was firmly believed that Curtis must be dead—despatched men back to the boat, to row in all haste to the ship and procure assistance.