"Ken, does it feel as wild to you here as on Buckskin Mountain?" asked Hal.
"Oh yes, much wilder, Hal," replied his brother. "And it's different, somehow. Out in Arizona there was always the glorious expectancy of to-morrow's fun or sport. Here I have a kind of worry--a feeling--"
But he concluded it wiser to keep to himself that strange feeling of dread which came over him at odd moments.
"It suits me," said Hal. "I want to get a lot of things and keep them alive. Of course, I want specimens. I'd like some skins for my den, too. But I don't care so much about killing things."
"Just wait!" retorted George, who evidently took Hal's remark as a reflection upon his weakness. "Just wait! You'll be shooting pretty soon for your life."
"Now, George, what do you mean by that?" questioned Ken, determined to pin George down to facts. "You said you didn't really know anything about this jungle. Why are you always predicting disaster for us?"
"Why? Because I've heard things about the jungle," retorted George. "And Pepe says wait till we get down off the mountain. He doesn't know anything, either. But it's his instinct--Pepe's half Indian. So I say, too, wait till we get down in the jungle!"
"Confound you! Where are we now?" queried Ken.
"The real jungle is the lowland. There we'll find the tigers and the crocodiles and the wild cattle and wild pigs."
"Bring on your old pigs and things," replied Hal.