Mother Carey's Chicken Part 49

"Steam!" said Mark.

"Yes. Look here. Give me your hand. I don't want to go through."

He caught Mark's hand and stepped cautiously down, keeping one foot on sure ground, as with the other he pressed and stamped upon a spot that was quite elastic. At every stamp there was a hiss--a sharp, angry hiss and a puff of vapour rose from among the leaves.

"There's your serpent," he said, laughing. "No wonder you did not hit it."

"Then that must be steam we saw over yonder, and not savages' fires."

"Right, my lad. A false alarm. We're in a volcanic land, and if we search about I daresay we shall find hot springs somewhere."

"It can't be very safe," said Mark thoughtfully, as he watched the little puffs of steam rise.

"Not if you jump on a soft place, for there would be no knowing where you went. But come along, I think we've done enough for one day, so let's find our pigeons and get back."

"Where's Jacko?" said Mark, looking round.

"Jack! Last time I saw him he was up a tree eating those sour berries just after I shot the last pigeon. He must have stayed back to feed."

They whistled and called, while, as if comprehending it all, the dog barked; but all was still, and in the hope of finding their hairy companion they now pressed steadily on, pa.s.sing the tree laden still with a bright purple kind of berry, but there was no sign of Jack.

"He'll return to savage life, safe," said the major. "It is too much of a temptation to throw in his way. Why, Mark, if I were a monkey I think I should."

"I don't think he'd leave Bruff now," replied Mark. "They're such friends that they wouldn't part, and I'm sure my dog wouldn't go."

He glanced down at Bruff as he spoke, and the dog barked at him, and raised his injured paw.

"Well, we shall see," said the major, as they forced their way on.

"There's where we stopped to listen for birds," he continued, "and there's the tree upon which I hung the pigeons."

"Where?" asked Mark.

"Yonder, straight before you. There, lad, fifty yards away."

"But I can't see any pigeons," said Mark.

"Not near enough. Let's get on, I'm growing hungry, and beginning to think of dinner, a cigar, a good rest, and a bathe in that delicious-looking sea. By the way, the clouds are gathering about the top of that mountain. I hope we shall have no storm to-night. Why, Mark, the pigeons are gone! I hung them upon that branch."

Mark turned from gazing at the clouds, which seemed to be forming about the cone away to his right, and was obliged to confess that the pigeons were gone.

"Savage, or some animal," said the major, peering cautiously round.

"Would it be a big bird--eagle or vulture?" said Mark. "I saw one fly over."

"Might be," replied the major. "I'm not naturalist enough to say; and if I was, I daren't, Mark, for what a bird will do in one country it will not in another."

Mark stared at him.

"Well, I mean this, Mark, my lad. At home, in England, the kingfishers sit on twigs over the streams, and dive into the water and catch fish.

Here, in the East, numbers of them sit on twigs in the forest paths and catch beetles, so there's no knowing what a bird of prey would do in a place like this."

Just then they were close up to the tree, and Bruff set up a joyous barking, which was answered by the chattering of the monkey.

"Why, there's Jack!" cried Mark.

"The rascal, he has got down my pigeons!" cried the major.

Just then a puff of feathers flew up in the air, and the two travellers stepped forward and simultaneously burst into a roar of laughter.

For there, in amongst the undergrowth, sat Jack, his hairy coat, head, arms, and legs covered with feathers, which formed quite a nest about him, and as they came up he chattered away loudly, and went on tearing the lavender plumage out of one of the great pigeons which lay in his lap, and scattering the soft down far and wide.

"Why, he must have seen the birds plucked yesterday," said the major, wiping his eyes, so comical was the monkey's seriously intent aspect, as he kept glancing up at them sharply, and then chattering and peering down at the half-denuded pigeon, his little black fingers nimbly twisting out the feathers, and his whole aspect suggestive of his being a cook in a tremendous hurry.

"There, come along," continued the major; "pick up the birds, Mark."

Easier said than done. There were three, but two, half-picked, had to be hunted out from the heap of feathers, and Jack objected to part with the third, holding on to it tightly till he was pressed back with the stock of the gun, after which the miserable half-picked birds were tied together by the legs and hung over the barrel.

They had no difficulty in finding the rest of the morning's sport, and this done, the first being shouldered by the major, they walked as fast as the nature of the way would allow, back to the sh.o.r.e, unwillingly on Mark's part, for there was always some brilliant bird or insect flitting across their path and inviting inspection.

But this inclination to stay was always checked by the major, who kept on bringing his companion back to the commonplace by uttering the one word, "Dinner!" and this sufficed.

Note 1. Attap, thatching made of the leaves of a palm--the nipah.

CHAPTER TWENTY SEVEN.

HOW MARK ENCOUNTERED A SAVAGE.

"We were beginning to think you long," said the captain as they reached the cocoa-nut grove, having found that though there were signs of palm leaves and young trees having been cut by the mouth of the stream this had not been selected as the site of the huts.

"We've been a long way," said the major. "Not empty-handed, you see."

"Splendid," cried the captain; "but you need not have stopped to pick them."

"Thereby hangs a tale," said the major, laughing. "How's Morgan?"

"Much better, and sitting up. There, you see, we've not been idle."

He pointed to a large low hut formed in the cocoa-nut grove by utilising six growing trees as corners and centre-posts, and binding to these thin horizontal poles, freshly cut down for eaves and ridge. Others formed gables, being fixed by the sailors with their customary deftness, thin rattans being used as binding cords. Then other poles had been bound together for the roof, and over these an abundant thatching of palm leaves had been laid and laced on with rattan till there was a water-tight roof, and in addition one end was furnished with palm-leaf walls.

"That will keep us dry if the rain comes," said the captain, after due praise had been awarded for the energy displayed. "But now, quick: have a wash, and we'll dine. Every one is hungry."

Mark's eyes twinkled as he saw the preparations. Palm leaves were spread in two places, but the food supply was the same for all; and if they were going to feed as well during their stay on the island, they felt that they would not have much cause to complain.

Food is so important a matter in our everyday life that, even without being sybarites, one may pause to give an account of the savage banquet prepared in the rock kitchen by the captain's and major's wives, aided by Mary O'Halloran, whilst the rest were busy hunting and building.