The boats were turned into a little cove, behind which was a stretch of smooth country.
The naturalists and their sons picked out guns and prepared to leave on a hunting trip, but Professor Bigelow announced that he would remain at the boats to read.
“Don’t see how he can read on a morning like this,” murmured Joe. “This cool air gets under my skin and cries ‘action, action!’”
They decided to take all but two of the crew with them to help carry in specimens, and strangely enough the two Indians who remained behind were the ones Bob had heard talking about not liking the prospect of penetrating into this unknown country.
Bob wondered if it would be safe to leave things as they were. For a moment he thought of appealing to the others to change the situation, but thought better of it and followed on into the forest. After all, nothing would probably come of the happening.
“We want to get a jaguar today if it’s at all possible,” said Mr. Lewis, his keen eyes scanning the surrounding trees, as if he expected to find one of the big cats lurking there.
“A jaguar!” repeated Joe. “Fine. We’ll get one if there’s any around.”
They tramped on for about five minutes before seeing any game but monkeys and bright-colored birds. Then Mr. Lewis caught sight of a long, lithe body gliding over the tangled underbrush.
The others saw, too, and they raised their rifles and fired.
The snake was immediately made into pulp, and the hunters ran up to examine it.