“But come, Caspar!” interposed the botanist, “explain yourself! Tell me what has happened to get both of you so saturated with water. Who or what came so near swallowing Ossaroo? Was it fish, flesh, or fowl?”
“A fish, I should think,” added Karl, in a jocular way, “judging from the element in which the adventure occurred. Certainly from the appearance of both of you it must have been in the water, and under the water too? Most undoubtedly a fish! Come, then, brother! let us hear this fish story.”
“Certainly a fish had something to do with it,” replied Caspar; “but although Ossaroo has proved that there are large fish in the lake, by capturing one nearly as big as himself—I don’t believe there are any quite large enough to swallow him—body, limbs, and all—without leaving some trace of him behind: whereas the monster that did threaten to accomplish this feat, would not have left the slightest record by which we could have known what had become of our unfortunate companion.”
“A monster!” exclaimed Karl, with increased astonishment and some little terror.
“Well, not exactly that,” replied Caspar, smiling at the puzzled expression on his brother’s countenance; “not exactly a monster, for it is altogether a natural phenomenon; but it is something quite as dangerous as any monster; and we will do well to avoid it in our future wanderings about the lake.”
“Why, Caspar, you have excited my curiosity to the highest pitch. Pray, lose no more time, but tell me at once what kind of terrible adventure is this that has befallen you.”
“That I shall leave Ossy to do, for it was his adventure, not mine. I was not even a witness to it, though, by good fortune, I was present at the ‘wind up,’ and aided in conducting it to a different result than it would otherwise have had. Poor Ossy! had I not arrived just in the right time, I wonder where you’d have been now? Several feet under ground, I dare say. Ha! ha! ha! It certainly is a very serious matter to laugh at, brother; but when I first set my eyes upon Ossaroo—on arriving to relieve him from his dilemma—he appeared in such a forlorn condition, and looked the thing so perfectly, that for the life of me I could not help breaking out into a fit of laughter—no more can I now, when I recall the picture he presented.”
“Bother, Caspar!” cried Karl, a little vexed at his brother’s circumlocution, “you quite try one’s patience. Pray, Ossaroo, do you proceed, and relieve me by giving me an account of your late troubles. Never mind Caspar; let him laugh away. Go on, Ossaroo!” Ossaroo, thus appealed to, commenced his narration of the adventure that had occurred to him, and which, as Caspar had justly stated, had very nearly proved fatal; but as the shikarree talked in a very broken and mixed language, that would hardly be intelligible to the reader, I must translate his story for him; and its main incidents will be found in the chapters that follow.