"You see, I could have arranged it nicely. We might have had old Andy to carry a couple of bags, and you could have had the governor's double gun, and looked after the pot. We should have had you blazing away right and left as we went up the river at everything that the Camel said was good to eat. You would soon have filled both the bags, of course."

"Look here," said Fitz, "none of your sneers! I dare say if I tried I could shoot as well as you can."

"Sneers!" cried Poole, with mock solemnity. "Hark at him! Why should I sneer about your filling the bags when you are not going? Of course you wouldn't. You'd think it wouldn't be right. I thought of all that, and said so to father."

Fitz coughed, and then said huskily--

"What did he say?"

"What did he say? Well--"

"Why don't you speak?" cried Fitz angrily.

"You might give a fellow time. What did father say?"

"Yes, of course!"

"Oh, he said he didn't like much shooting, because he did not want the enemy to know we were up the river, but that if I saw anything in the shape of a deer or a big bird, or anything else good to eat, I was to fire."

"Hah!" sighed Fitz, as he saw himself spending a lonely day on board.

"Hah!" sighed Poole, in imitation. "I wish you had been going too."

Fitz looked at him searchingly.

"There!" he cried. "You are gammoning me."

Poole could not keep it in; his face expanded into a broad grin.

"I knew you were," cried Fitz.

"Yes, it's all right, old chap. The governor said that you were to come, for he didn't think that there would be any trouble, and it would be a pleasant change for you."

"Your father is a regular trump," cried Fitz excitedly. "I say, though; I should have liked to have a gun."

"Well, you are going to have his. I'll carry a rifle, so as to bring down all the bucks."

"How soon do we start?"

"Directly. Old Burgess is looking as blue as b.u.t.ters' nose because he has got to stop at home, and b.u.t.ters himself is doing nothing else but growl. He didn't like it a bit when the dad said that he must be tired after the other night's work. But he's got to stop."

Half-an-hour later the well-manned boat was being pulled vigorously up the rapidly narrowing river, with the two boys in the bows, on the look-out for anything worthy of powder and shot which might appear on either bank; but there was nothing save beauty to recompense their watchful eyes.

Birds were plentiful enough, and of the loveliest plumage, while every now and then a loud splash followed the movement of what seemed to be a log of wood making the best of its way into deep water. And once high in a mighty tree which shot up its huge bole from the very mud of the bank, Poole pointed out a curious knot of purple, dull buff and brown, right in the fork where a large branch joined the bole. "Not a serpent, is it?" whispered Fitz. "It is, though," was the reply; and the middy raised his piece.

"No, no; don't shoot," said Poole softly. "It isn't good to eat, and we might be giving the alarm."

Fitz lowered the double gun with a sigh, and the boat glided on, sending the rushing water in a wave to go lapping amongst the bushes that overhung from the bank, and directly after the serpent knot was hidden by the leaves.

The rapid little river wound here and there, and they went on mile after mile, with the steamy heat growing at times almost unbearable. But the men did not murmur, tugging away at their oars and seeming to enjoy the beauty of the many scenes through which they pa.s.sed, for every now and then the river widened out, to look like some shut-in lake. And so mile after mile was pa.s.sed, no spot where they could land presenting itself in the dense jungle which covered the banks, and it was not till afternoon that at a sudden turn they came upon an opening which had evidently been produced by the axe, while a short distance farther on at a word from the skipper the progress of the boat was checked at a roughly-made pier of piles driven into the mud, to which were pinned huge sticks of timber, beyond which was a rough corduroy road leading evidently to something in the way of civilisation.

"It must be up here somewhere, boys," said the skipper. "Two of you stop as keepers, my lads, while we land and go and see. The hacienda must certainly be hereabouts from the description Don Ramon gave;" and as all stepped on to the rough timber pier, the skipper instructed the boat-keepers to get well under shelter out of the sun and to keep strict watch, before leading the way along the wooded road through the thick growth which had newly sprung up amongst the b.u.t.ts of the great trees that had been felled or burned off level with the soil.

It must not be judged from this, that it was any scene of desolation, for every stump and relic of fallen tree was ornamented with lovely orchids, or wreathed with tangling vines. b.u.t.terflies of the most vivid hues fluttered here and there in the glorious sunshine, while humming-birds literally flashed as they darted by.

The clearing had evidently been the work of many men, and it was plain to see what the place must have been before the axe was introduced, by the dense ma.s.s of giant trees that stood up untouched a couple of hundred yards on either side--the primaeval forest in its glory, untouched by man.

CHAPTER TWENTY SIX.

A NIGHT WATCH.

It was not many minutes later when, attracted by a group of the lovely insects playing about the shrubs that were in full bloom, Fitz had hung back, making them an excuse while he rested, standing mopping his face, streaming with perspiration, while Poole, no less willing to enjoy a few minutes' halt, stood looking back watching him.

Meanwhile the skipper had gone on, closely followed by the men, and pa.s.sed out of sight. And then the few minutes became a few minutes more, neither of the lads noting the lapse of time, for everything around was so beautiful that they had no thought for the task in hand, nor fear of being interrupted by any of the enemy who might be near.

Everything was so dreamy and beautiful that Poole cast his eyes around in search of some fallen trunk, with the idea that nothing could be more delightful than to sit down there in the shade and drowse the time away.

Then he was awake again, for from somewhere ahead, but so far off that it sounded quite faint, there came a shout--

"Ahoy! Poole!"

The lad ran, rifle in hand, to answer his father's call, but only to stop short to look round sharply, feeling that he was leaving Fitz behind.

"Oh, there you are," he cried, as he caught sight of the lad following swiftly after. "I thought that you were not coming."

"I was obliged to. You don't suppose that I want to be left alone here by myself?"

"No, I suppose not. 'Tis a wild spot. It wouldn't be very pleasant if one of the enemy came upon you. You'd be rather safer along with us.

Come on; we had better run. Mind how you come. These logs are rather slippery where the sun doesn't shine."

"Yes, and you had better mind, or some of this tangled stuff that's growing up between will trip you up. Rather awkward if your gun went off."

A few minutes later they came up to where the skipper was standing waiting for them.

"Found the place, father?"

"Yes; it's just over yonder in a clearing beyond those trees."

"Where are the men?"

"Inside the house."

"Has Don Ramon come?"

"No. There's not a soul in sight. I can't see any signs of a fight, but it looks to me as if the enemy had been destroying all they came across. I hope they didn't come upon him and take him prisoner, but it looks very bad."

"What shall you do, father?"