It never occurred to him that there might be something childish in his angry flight from the thing that had annoyed him. He decided to give her time to get this uncomfortable mood over before he went back and, consequently, steered the boat towards a likely-looking creek biting into what was known as the mainland.
To his astonishment he was checked by Kingfisher, who, for some time past, had been shading his eyes and muttering at the reflection of trees in water so clear that it was difficult not to believe that there was no material substance to the drowned world it mirrored.
He now clutched Cyprian's arm, indicating that they must not land. The latter was in no temper to be thwarted.
"Is it ghosts or devils which will prevent you, Kingfisher? Or is the ground tabu on account of a birth or a death?"
The man could not explain himself any more clearly than to insist that it would be unsafe to land.
His fear was very genuine and when he had gauged Cyprian's obstinacy he climbed resignedly into his canoe, from the motor-boat, and cut it adrift.
"All right!" Cyprian agreed cheerfully, "If you fish long enough you may catch a whale. I am going to explore."
He beached the motor-boat, and the jungle swallowed him up.
Then Kingfisher did a very sensible thing: he seized his paddles and made for home.
* * * * * *