An elegant bird with a long curved bill came and settled down on the bank; the boy remarked the beautiful bronze-colored plumage of the wader. I informed him it was an ibis.
"The Egyptian bird which devours serpents?"
"One of its kinsfolk," I replied; "the ibis feeds, generally speaking, on worms, mollusks, and even on sea-weed or aquatic plants. It may, perhaps, sometimes eat water-snakes; but as to feeding exclusively on reptiles, or destroying them systematically, that's quite another story."
We now reached the bivouac, and found my companions up, and l'Encuerado in a state of high excitement over his exploit.
Having drunk our coffee, we all turned up our sleeves, and set to work to skin our magnificent prizes. This difficult operation employed us all the morning, and was scarcely finished when I carried our baggage on board the raft, which was soon pushed off from the bank.
Our way lay through walls of the densest foliage, which often met overhead, while such was the awful stillness of the solitude, that we felt oppressed, and only spoke in a low voice.
The hour for rest had long passed, and yet no one proposed to land. The fact was, we wished some more animated resting-place; and though l'Encuerado, with his pole, shoved us onward with energy, the numerous bends hindered our progress, and it seemed as if night would surprise us still afloat. At last the palm-trees became more crowded, and the stream emerged from the forest, to cross a prairie; here the raft was moored under a canopy of creepers.
Our first care was to stretch the tigers' skins on the heated ground, and, while I was helping l'Encuerado, Sumichrast and Lucien went off in quest of our dinners. The fire had been for some time burning, when we heard a distant gunshot.
"The banks of the river were covered with alligators."