“Yes, every one of both the families, which now are really one,” Fritz answered.
The boatswain broke in, as was his way, with a very just remark:
“If those who cut this canal did well, those who threw a bridge across it deserve quite as much praise. So let us go over and march on!”
They crossed the bridge and entered into the more thickly wooded district, where rose the little stream that ran out near Falconhurst, just below Whale Island.
Fritz and Frank listened intently, trying to catch some distant sound of barking or of guns. What was Jack, the enthusiastic sportsman, about, that he was not hunting this fine morning? Game was rising in every direction, scampering away through the brakes and scattering from tree to tree. If the two brothers had had guns, they could have let fly with both barrels over and over again. It seemed to them that fur and feather had never been more plentiful in the district, so plentiful that their companions were genuinely astonished by it.
But, besides the twittering of little birds, the call of partridges and bustards, the chattering of parrots and sometimes the howling of jackals were all that could be heard, and to these sounds was never added the report of firearms or the whimper of a dog on the scent.
After crossing the Falconhurst river they only had to go up the right bank as far as the edge of the wood, where grew the gigantic mangrove tree with the aerial dwelling-place.
A profound silence reigned underneath these immense trees—a silence which awakened vague uneasiness. When Fritz looked at Jenny he read in her eyes an anxiety for which, however, there was no justification as yet. Frank, too, felt some nervousness, walking on in front and then retracing his steps. This uneasiness was shared by all. In ten minutes they would be at Falconhurst. Ten minutes! Was not that much the same as being there already?
“It’s a sure thing,” said the boatswain, who wanted to cheer them up, “it’s a sure thing that we shall have to go down this fine avenue of yours to Rock Castle! A delay of an hour, that’s all. And what’s an hour, after so long an absence?”
They put on pace. A few moments later they came within sight of the edge of the wood, and then of the enormous mangrove tree in the middle of the court-yard, enclosed by palisades fringed with a quickset hedge.