“Stung!” exclaimed Mr. Holton, regaining his breath. “The piranhas spoiled the chance of getting that specimen.”
“So that fish was a piranha?” asked Joe, looking to see if he could locate it in the dark water.
“Yes,” Mr. Lewis returned. “They’re mean creatures, all right. Got a temper like a bull. They’ll attack anything from jaguars to people, and they usually do the job right. I once heard of a man devoured by them in a very short time.”
“It wasn’t very large,” said Bob. “Looked about like a pickerel to me.”
“It isn’t their size,” his father returned. “It’s their ferocity—and strong, sharp teeth.”
“Let’s don’t worry about the bird,” consoled the professor. “We’ll probably see more of them later on.”
The naturalists resolved to follow the professor’s advice and regard the matter as one of the many discouragements that could be expected at almost any time.
“After all, we didn’t lose much,” said Mr. Lewis. “But then—but then——”
As they paddled on, signs of life became more frequent. Once there was a small flock of bright red birds, and the naturalists had more luck in bringing them in as specimens. None was shot near the river; only those on shore were aimed at. A little later they saw the first monkeys since they had turned down this river. They had often heard the little creatures in the depths of the jungle, but had never been successful in getting a glimpse of them.