We exchanged looks of eager satisfaction.
“How shall we proceed, Mak?” inquired Jack.
“We mus’ go bery slow, dis way,” said the guide, imitating the process of walking with extreme caution. “No break leetle stick. If you break leetle stick hims go right away.”
Promising Mak that we would attend to his injunctions most carefully, we desired him to lead the way, and in a few minutes after came so near to where the sound of breaking sticks was going on that we all halted, fearing that we should scare the animal away before we could get a sight of it amongst the dense underwood.
“What can he be doing?” said I to the guide, as we stood looking at each other for a few seconds uncertain how to act.
“Him’s breakin’ down branches for git at him’s feed, s’pose.”
“Do you see that?” whispered Peterkin, as he pointed to an open space among the bushes. “Isn’t that a bit o’ the hairy brute?”
“It looks like it,” replied Jack eagerly.
“Cluck!” ejaculated Makarooroo, making a peculiar noise with his tongue. “Dat him. Blaze away!”
“But it may not be a mortal part,” objected Peterkin. “He might escape if only wounded.”