"Five feet," returned the seaman.
The steamer continued on her course, with Scott at the wheel, for some time longer. The dry land could be seen through the trees at no great distance ahead. The boat continued on her course for a quarter of an hour, when Clingman call out a depth which caused the captain to ring the gong to stop her. The last report was three feet, and the keel was evidently grinding through the soft mud. Then he rang to back her; and when she had increased her depth to four feet, he struck the gong to stop her.
"Dinner is ready, gentlemen," said Pitts.
"We must attend to that before we do anything more," added the captain. "Keep a sharp lookout ahead, Clingman."
The party went into the after cabin, and the novelty of dining on board of a steamer in the woods was sufficiently inspiring to add a big interest to the occasion.
"What have you got for dinner, Pitts?" asked Felix, as he entered the cabin. "Have you got any stewed crocodiles?"
"Not a croc, Mr. McGavonty," replied the cook.
"Any boiled orang-outang?"
"Not an orang. The captain bought six dozens of eggs at the village where we stopped yesterday, and I have ham and eggs for dinner, which I hope will suit you," replied Pitts.
"The best thing in the world for me. Whisper! Are they crocodiles' eggs?"