He eagerly looked over the contents of his medicine-chest; and desiring to have some fresh-water brought him, he quickly compounded a draught, which he gave to Arthur. We left the father and son together, while we returned to the canoe. On our way Houlston and Tony recounted to me briefly what had occurred. They had made their way nearly up to the mouth of the Napo, when, not finding us, they had determined to visit every spot on the shore where we were likely to have stopped. They had at length put into the creek, near the abode of the recluse.
“Much to our surprise,” said Houlston, “we were accosted in English by a tall white man. On telling him our errand, he informed us that you had long since gone down the stream, and seemed very much surprised and grieved to find that we had not encountered you. He at once volunteered to accompany us, saying that he was greatly interested in your welfare, and could not rest satisfied without assisting in our search for you. We were, of course, very glad to have his company; and going back to his hut, he soon returned with two Indians—a man and his wife—who also wished to come with us. They are there,” and Houlston pointed to the canoe.
Just then one of the Indians landed; and though dressed in a shirt and trousers, I recognised him as our friend Maono. He was followed by Illora, also habited in more civilised costume than when we had at first seen her. They greeted me kindly, and inquired, with more warmth than Indians generally exhibit, for their son and daughter. I assured them of their welfare, and of the esteem in which they were held by my family. They appeared to be gratified, and then inquired for the Indians who had accompanied us. Maono was excessively indignant when we told him of the trick they had played us, and threatened to put them to death when he got back to his people. We entreated him, however, for our sakes, not to punish them so severely; indeed, we told him we would rather he pardoned them altogether, as they had been influenced by a desire to return to their people, and perhaps supposed that we might prevent them from so doing. They had till that moment been faithful and obedient, and we assured him that we had had no cause to complain of them.
Some time was spent in talking to Tony and Houlston. On our return to the hut we found Mr Mallet standing in front of it. He said Arthur was improving, but begged that we would remain where we were, as he was unwilling to move him at present. We of course willingly agreed to do what he wished, and forthwith set to work to put up huts for the time we might have to remain on the island. We gave up our hut to Mr Mallet and Arthur, and made a large fire in front of it, while we had another, at which we cooked our suppers. Not for a moment, I believe, did the recluse close his eyes during that night, though most of our party slept soundly. Whenever I awoke I saw him moving to and fro. Once I could not help getting out of my hammock and asking him whether Arthur was improving. “I trust he may be,” was the answer. “I shall know to-morrow.”
In the morning Arthur certainly appeared better, his wounds having been dressed by the skilful hands of his father. Arthur’s state, however, was still too precarious to allow of his removal without risk. Anxious as we were to get back to our friends, we remained, therefore, three days longer on the island. Occasionally John, Houlston, Tony, and I made excursions to the mainland, finding it inhabited, to shoot; while Maono and Illora were very successful in their fishing expeditions.
“Oh, I wish Arthur was well!” exclaimed Tony. “This is just the sort of fun we were looking forward to; and I say, Harry, I hope it is only the beginning of our adventures. Our employers, I know, will very gladly send us up the river to purchase produce, and I dare say you can make arrangements to come with us.”
I of course said I should be very glad to do so, though I could not then say what my father intended to do after reaching Para.
We shot a good deal of game—quadruped, four-handed, and feathered. Among the latter, by-the-by, was a curious bird, which we found feeding on the marshy banks of a lake, to which we made our way, attracted by its loud and peculiar cry. Creeping on, we caught sight of it as it stood on the shore. Houlston, who first saw it, declared that it was a large crane. It was about the size of a swan, and getting nearer, I saw that it had an extraordinary horn on the top of its head, surrounded by black and white feathers, while the upper part of its wings had two sharp horns projecting from them—formidable weapons of attack or defence. Houlston fired, but missed. He had not improved as a sportsman since we parted. John at that moment came up, and sent a ball into the bird’s neck. On this True and Faithful dashed forward, but still the bird, though unable to run, showed fight with its wings and kept them at bay. It soon, however, sunk down lifeless on the ground. Its plumage was very handsome. The head and neck were of a greenish-brown colour, covered with soft feathers. The breast and thighs were of silvery white, and the back was black, with the exception of the upper part, which was brown, with yellow spots. It was, we found, the anhima of the Brazils, known also as the horned kamichi, or, more learnedly, Palamedea. It is sometimes called the horned screamer, from its loud and wild cry. We laughingly told Houlston that, as he had missed it, he should have the honour of carrying it; which he very good-naturedly did, though it was a considerable load to bear through the forest.