Hour after hour they fought their way up the coffee-colored river. The character of the vegetation on the banks had begun to change by this time. Here and there stood a majestic clump of mahogany trees; but logwood, a valuable article of commerce in the dyeing industry, formed the major part of the growth. Once, as they rounded a bend, the flash of a lithe body was seen among the trees, as a beautifully spotted jaguar slunk away from the overhanging limb where it had been lying.
“Let’s try the gas-guns on the next one we see,” suggested Tom, and the lads hastened below and returned armed with the odd weapons.
An opportunity to use them soon presented itself. From a thick mass of brake there came a mighty squealing and grunting, as the Vagrant came slowly around one of the numerous bends in the stream. All at once several small, bristly animals, like miniature pigs, dashed out with a mighty commotion.
Three gas-guns flashed to three shoulders simultaneously. It was an odd and rather uncanny sight to behold an instant later, six little wild piggies lying with their toes turned up, “dead to the world,” as the slangy Ned Bangs put it.
The boys were keen for going ashore and gathering in the victims of the ammonium nitrate compound. But Captain Andrews vetoed the proposal as impossible.
“There’s hardly a foot of water in shore there,” he said, “it’s a case of ‘keep in de middle ob de road’ in this river.”
Dinner was eaten at one o’clock. Jack “spelling” Captain Andrews at the wheel while the skipper partook of a hearty meal, after which he indulged in a nap while Tom, in his turn, relieved Jack.
The latter was still below enjoying Jupe’s cookery, when there came a sudden hail from above:
“Say, Jack, hurry up on deck, won’t you? There’s something odd about the water just ahead of us.”
Ned it was who uttered the summons, poking his head down the companion way.