From our black guide we could not obtain much information; for, although we were well assured that he spoke English when we engaged him, we found that it was of a character which would take us some time to learn. However he understood us better than we did him, though we had to put questions in all sorts of ways and repeat them over and over again. We then had to puzzle out his replies, not always arriving at a satisfactory conclusion.
Guy frequently stood up in his stirrups and looked ahead, hoping to catch the sheen of water. At last we began to have some uncomfortable suspicions that, although our black attendant professed to know the way, he had managed to lose it—a circumstance not at all unlikely to occur—and that we were wandering far out of our proper course. Though the sun was of some assistance, yet we might be going too much to the north or too much to the west, and might pass a long way off from the station which we wished to reach. All we could do therefore was to exert our wits, and, should we have got out of the direct path, to try and find it. At length the foliage before us became somewhat thicker, but no sign of water did we see. We were riding on when a loud cry reached our ears.
“There’s some one in distress!” I exclaimed.
“I fear that you are right, we must find out,” answered Guy.
We were urging on our horses, when a peal of mocking laughter seemed to come from the wood close to us.
“What can that be?” I asked; “some natives who want to frighten us, or an unfortunate maniac.”
The shout of laughter was repeated.
“Him one jackass!” observed our guide, Toby.
“Jackass! What can the fellow mean?” cried Guy.
Then looking up we discovered a large bird not far off who was evidently uttering the extraordinary sound we heard. It was, as Toby told us, a laughing-jackass, or a gigantic kingfisher. So ridiculous were the sounds that we could not help laughing too.