"To be sure, father, the very thing!" shouted Jack, in high glee. "I have seen pictures of boar hunts, in which the dogs were protected by a sort of leather coat of mail. That will be grand!"
After giving this advice, I got no peace until I had shown my boys how to act upon it, and in a short time each had his prize fastened up by the hind legs, and carefully slitting the skin, was stripping it from the carcass.
Ernest, meanwhile, was fetching large flat stones in order to form a fireplace, while Franz gathered sticks, as his mother was anxious to prepare some food.
"What sort of a tree do you suppose this to be, father?" inquired Ernest, seeing me examining that under which we were encamping. "Is not the leaf something like the walnut?"
"There is a resemblance, but in my opinion these gigantic trees must be mangroves or wild figs. I have heard their enormous height described, and also the peculiarity of the arching roots supporting the main trunk raised above the soil."
Just then little Franz came up with a large bundle of sticks, and his mouth full of something he was eating with evident satisfaction.
"Oh, mother!" cried he, "this is so good! So delicious!"
"Greedy little boy!" exclaimed she in a fright. "What have you got there? Don't swallow it, whatever you do. Very likely it is poisonous! Spit it all out this minute!" And the anxious mother quickly extracted from the rosy little mouth the remains of a small fig.
"Where did you find this?" said I.
"There are thousands lying among the grass yonder," replied the little boy. "They taste very nice. I thought poison was nasty. Do you think they will hurt me? The pigeons and the hens are gobbling them up with all their might and main, papa!"