The creature gave a leap into the air, a queer kind of squeal, “like a stuck pig,” Ding-dong said afterward, and fell dead.
The shot aroused every one on the Discoverer, and they came crowding down to the river, to find Joe and Ding-dong examining, by their electric pocket lights, the carcass of a large animal with a peculiarly shaped snout. Explanations ensued, and the professor announced that it was a tapir, a species of water animal common in South America.
Matco assured them that the meat of the creature was very good eating, and much esteemed by his people, and he was permitted to cut some steaks from Joe’s prize.
“If I hadn’t ter-ter-tumbled into that pool, though, he’d have been mer-mer-mine,” declared Ding-dong positively.
“I guess you’d have been his,” laughed Joe, “that is, if you didn’t move any quicker than you were when I saw you.”
“You watch me. I’ll do something great yet,” declared Ding-dong, with a positiveness that deprived him of his stammer.
“It must have been great the way you went over that bank,” laughed Joe unfeelingly.
The professor made Ding-Dong put on dry clothes, and then the interrupted rest of the travelers was resumed. The remainder of the night passed without incident, and a breakfast that took place soon after dawn was eaten amidst much rallying of Ding-dong on his adventure of the night before.
“I’d like to have seen any of the re-re-rest of you ber-ber-brave enough to have gone near that snor-snor-snoring,” sputtered the lad, valiantly helping himself to some more tapir steak, which was found to be as good as the old Indian had declared was the case.
At eight o’clock the Discoverer was ready to resume her flight. She took the air without any accident, and under her replenished supply of gas rose with tremendous buoyancy. In fact, the descending plane had to be adjusted to keep her from shooting up too rapidly. No one on board had any desire to repeat that flight to the chilly regions of the upper air. As Ding-dong put it, “N-n-n-no more on my per-per-plate, thank you.”