Then he began to walk away from it, looking constantly back at it.
Presently in an open glade he came to a stop.
“Gaw!” he whispered, “I don' like dead bodies some'ow! I'd almost rather that chap was alive.”
He would not go along the path athwart which the Chinaman hung. He felt he would rather not have trees round him any more, and that it would be more comfortable to be quite close to the sociable splash and uproar of the rapids.
He came upon the second aeroplane in a clear grassy space by the side of the streaming water, and it seemed scarcely damaged at all. It looked as though it had floated down into a position of rest. It lay on its side with one wing in the air. There was no aeronaut near it, dead or alive. There it lay abandoned, with the water lapping about its long tail.
Bert remained a little aloof from it for a long time, looking into the gathering shadows among the trees, in the expectation of another Chinaman alive or dead. Then very cautiously he approached the machine and stood regarding its widespread vans, its big steering wheel and empty saddle. He did not venture to touch it.
“I wish that other chap wasn't there,” he said. “I do wish 'e wasn't there!”
He saw a few yards away, something bobbing about in an eddy that spun within a projecting head of rock. As it went round it seemed to draw him unwillingly towards it....
What could it be?
“Blow!” said Bert. “It's another of 'em.”