Mr. Wolston said:

"It is quite clear, my dear Jack, that we shall have nothing to complain of if we are reduced to sultana birds, partridges, quails, bustards and grouse, not to mention antelopes, cavies, and agoutis. But I think it would be wise only to lay in supplies just as we are going to make a halt, so as to not to overload our game-bags."

"You are quite right, Mr. Wolston," the ardent sportsman replied. "But when game comes within such easy range it is very difficult to resist."

But finally Jack fell in with Mr. Wolston's advice. It was as late as eleven o'clock when several gunshots proclaimed the fact that the bill of fare for the first meal was just completed. People who like their game a little high would very likely have found fault with the brace of grouse and the three snipe that Fawn retrieved from the brushwood. But nothing was left of these birds, which were roasted before a fire of dry wood. As for the dog, he regaled himself upon the carcasses.

In the afternoon, however, a few more shots were necessary to drive away animals formidable if only because of their superior numbers. All three guns had to speak to put to flight a band of wild cats, of the kind that had been seen previously within the Promised Land, when the first visit was paid to the Green Valley. They made off with a heavy list of wounded, raising hideous cries which resembled mewing and howling mixed. It might be well to make careful provision against an attack by them during the next halt for the night.

This country was rich in birds, other than game—parrots, parrakeets, brilliant scarlet macaws, tiny toucans with green wings decked with gold, big Virginian blue-jays, and tall flamingoes. It was also thronged with antelopes, elands, quaggas, onagers, and buffaloes. Directly they scented the presence of man from afar, these creatures galloped away at great speed.

The country, still rising steadily towards the range, had lost as yet none of its fertility, which was as great as that of the northern part of the island. Soon Mr. Wolston, Ernest, and Jack came to a wooded belt. As they drew near the foot of the mountains they saw a succession of lofty forests, seemingly of great density. Next morning they might expect a much more difficult and fatiguing march.

That evening the hungry men regaled themselves upon hazel-hens, of which all three had bagged a few from a covey which Fawn put up in the tall and tangled grass. Camp was pitched at the edge of a magnificent forest of sago-trees, watered by a tiny stream which the steep pitch of the ground converted into a torrent as it sped on its course towards the south-west.

On this occasion Mr. Wolston decided to organise a sharp watch on the outskirts of the camp. A fire was to be kept alive until dawn. This necessitated their taking it in turns to watch by it throughout the night, which was disturbed by the howling of animals within close distance.

The start next morning was made in the small hours. Another seven or eight miles, and the foot of the mountains would be reached—perhaps in the second stage that day, if no obstacle occurred to delay the march. And if the flanks of the range were practicable on their northern side, the ascent would only take the first few hours of the following morning.