And Kitty, to take the taste out of her mouth, went ashore, in spite of their remonstrances, and found something to eat, which they refused with every sign of abhorrence.
"You eat bacca, I eat these," said Kitty, and the Baker found it so difficult to explain to her that he was entitled, by his customs, to make a beast of himself, that at last he began to see dimly that chewing tobacco might be objectionable from some points of view.
And just as they were discussing the matter in low tones, Smith, who was on a nervous stretch which made every sense preternaturally keen, held up his hand warningly to the others.
"I thought I heard something," he said. "Listen."
And then all three distinctly heard the noise of some one or some thing making its way through dense scrub.
"Kangaroos?" said the Baker.
But the girl smiled, and Smith shook his head.
"Lie low and say nothing," he whispered, as he got out of the canoe with his cocked revolver in his hand. He lay flat on his stomach, and wriggled a yard or two till he could see the further bank.
"Which side is it, Kitty?" asked the Baker, who began to trust the girl's instincts better than his own.
She pointed across the stream.