“Look, look at that remarkable insect!” exclaimed Nigel, eagerly, in the innocence of his heart. The professor was in front of him; he obediently looked, saw the insect, made an eager step towards it, and next moment was flat on the swamp, while the woods rang with his companions laughter. The remarkable insect, whatever it was, vanished from the scene, and the professor was dragged, smiling though confused, out of the bog. These things affected him little. His soul was large and rose superior to such trifles.
The virgin forest into which they penetrated was of vast extent; spreading over plain, mountain, and morass in every direction for hundreds of miles, for we must remind the reader that the island of Borneo is considerably larger than all the British islands put together, while its inhabitants are comparatively few. Verkimier had been absolutely revelling in this forest for several months—ranging its glades, penetrating its thickets, bathing, (inadvertently), in its quagmires, and maiming himself generally, with unwearied energy and unextinguishable enthusiasm; shooting, skinning, stuffing, preserving, and boiling the bones of all its inhabitants—except the human—to the great advantage of science and the immense interest and astonishment of the natives. Yet with all his energy and perseverance the professor had failed, up to that time, to obtain a large specimen of a male orang-utan, though he had succeeded in shooting several small specimens and females, besides catching the young one which he had tamed.
It was therefore with much excitement that he learned from a party of bees’-wax hunters, on the second morning of their expedition, that a large male mias had been seen that very day. Towards the afternoon they found the spot that had been described to them, and a careful examination began.
“You see,” said Verkimier, in a low voice, to Nigel, as he went a step in advance peering up into the trees, with rifle at the “ready” and bending a little as if by that means he better avoided the chance of being seen. “You see, I came to Borneo for zee express purpose of obtaining zee great man-monkey and vatching his habits.—Hush! Do I not hear somet’ing?”
“Nothing but your own voice, I think,” said Nigel, with a twinkle in his eye.
“Vell—hush! Keep kviet, all of you.”
As the whole party marched in single file after the professor, and were at the moment absolutely silent, this order induced the display of a good many teeth.
Just then the man of science was seen to put his rifle quickly to the shoulder; the arches of the forest rang with a loud report; various horrified creatures were seen and heard to scamper away, and next moment a middle-sized orang-utan came crashing through the branches of a tall tree and fell dead with a heavy thud on the ground.
The professor’s rifle was a breech-loader. He therefore lost no time in re-charging, and hurried forward as if he saw other game, while the rest of the party—except Van der Kemp, Nigel, and Gurulam—fell behind to look at and pick up the fallen animal.
“Look out!” whispered Nigel, pointing to a bit of brown hair that he saw among the leaves high overhead.