Suddenly a jackal ran out, and Mr. Holton lost no time in firing at it. It was carefully but quickly skinned and placed in the burlap bag for the specimens.
“This forest certainly is untrodden,” observed Mr. Lewis, unable to discern the faintest traces of human tracks. “It has probably been a long time since anyone broke into its fastness.”
“Which is all the better for us,” said Joe. “Animals here probably have never heard the sound of a gun before.”
Along toward noon they picked out a small grassy area and got out the kit of lunch. The sandwiches were spread on a paper, and thermos bottles of cold lemonade were opened. To the tired adventurers it promised to be a feast fit for a king.
“No meal in the most luxurious café tastes better than a bountiful lunch in the heart of a forest,” said Mr. Lewis.
Bob’s father nodded.
“It has been said that no one but an explorer really knows what an appetite is,” he remarked. “And in times when I’m working in the museum at home and not doing any strenuous work I can fully realize the truth of it.”
They ate the lunch in quiet contentment, taking it easy on the soft grass. It seemed good to be out on the trail again, feasting on the wonders of nature. Bob and Joe were impressed by the stillness of the great forest.
“This is about the only kind of a woods you can get through,” remarked Bob, his eyes on the numerous cork-oak trees. “A tropical jungle has so much undergrowth and vines that it keeps you busy cutting them away with a machete.”
An hour or two after the repast was spent in resting their tired limbs and chatting merrily. Then Mr. Lewis suggested that they continue the hunt.