“Nuther reason we hully,” he said. “Salloo think big storm come to-mollow. Rain washee out the tlacks.”
They set off along a narrow track that Salloo said would bring them to the river, whose course they must follow to the deserted fort. The jungle contained every kind of tropical growth, and huge ferns as big as trees waved over the path. But the atmosphere was close and feverish, with a humid heat that was very tiring. At times they encountered vines which had grown across the trail and had to be cut. Some of these were thin and wiry and could cut like a knife; others were as thick as a man’s arm and bore brilliant, though poisonous-looking blossoms of every color.
“Bad traveling,” remarked Captain Sparhawk, “still I suppose we must expect that on a seldomly frequented trail.”
“Him get velly bad further on,” was all the comfort Salloo could offer, “but not velly far to ribber once we strike udder trail.”
Before long they came to the track he had referred to which branched off at right angles to the one along which they had been traveling.
Several miles were covered, however, when it became time to halt for lunch. They made a hasty meal of canned goods instead of stopping to light fires, as Salloo thought it would be inadvisable to advertise their whereabouts by smoke columns in case the “enemy” had scouts out. They had hardly resumed their wearisome journey when they were startled by hearing a cry from a distance. Salloo came to an instant halt.
“Keep out ob sight, all of you,” he said, “Salloo go see what makee noise.”
He glided off into the dense vegetation with the silent, undulatory movements of a snake.
“Begorry, I wonder what that critter was?” said Muldoon in a low voice.
“I don’t know. I only hope it wasn’t a band of natives who might prove unfriendly,” muttered Billy.