They saw none of the Indian women; indeed, they had forgotten all about them. The dense growth of brush, matted vines, tangled creepers, which fringed the river, gave place to great, lofty open glades of forest grandeur. Trees like great columns, reared their tall forms upward from every point, making vast aisles of gloom between their huge trunks. Overhead their leaves met and tangled, twined and held by giant creepers, so that only a dim, softly diffused light came down to light the magical scene.
There was, at first, a seeming silence, an awesomely deep silence; it made the boys stop talking, or converse in a whisper, feeling some inward tendency to be still. Gradually, however, the forest took up its solemn conversation; the hum of insects became noticeable, the faint crackle of twigs as some soft-footed denizen of the deep gloom made wary way along some hidden trail; the soft plash of a fish in the hidden, distant river; the twitter of several birds, and the soft, incessant flutter of bright—gaudily colored wings. Most of the tropical birds are vivid in color but have no song.
A flock of gaily plumed birds whirred by among the silences above their heads. Cliff half-automatically lifted the rifle and then let its barrel drop; they were too beautiful to be killed, to be dragged down, inert, lifeless, by a cruel and senseless use of lead. Cliff was a very humane youth and he destroyed animal life only for real needs at any time.
Came a glitter and glow before their eyes; a very battalion of gay butterflies flitted here and there. Forgetting the silence, with a whoop they were in pursuit. Cliff dropped the rifle.
Here and there, afar and then close, through the great boles of century-old trees, the pursuit led them.
Sometimes in eyeshot of one another, oftener not, they caught the gay little insects.
Finally, with whoop and call, the trio managed to locate one another and to gather to compare their catches.
“I have twelve of the blue ones, two silver ones, six yellow ones, and this burnished gold one.”
“Give me one of your silver ones for this red one.”
“If I had six of your blue ones I’d trade two of these golden sunshine ones,” Nicky completed the trio of voices.