"And on the ground?"

"Yes, sir."

"Running?"

"Oh, no, sir, it was just creeping quietly along when I beckoned you."

"I don't know any bird answering your description but a macaw," said my uncle. "How big was it?"

"As big as a barn-door c.o.c.k, sir, I think."

"Look here, Pete; you've seen macaws, or aras, as they call them. Mr Nat here shot one days ago."

"Them big poll parrots, sir? Oh no, it warn't one of them, sir. I know that sort well enough."

"I hope we shall come upon it another day then," said my uncle.

We had a short rest, and then turned in the direction of the river-gorge again, its presence simplifying our position, for we had only to steer south at any time to come upon the steep, well-wooded ravine, along whose sides we had constant peeps of the clear flowing water, finding several places where we could descend, while here the variety of birds, insects, and reptiles was wonderful, and had we wanted them we could soon have killed more than we should have been able to preserve.

But with most of them my uncle was familiar, and unless the specimen seen was something rare, he let it go in peace.

"Fortune may favour us, Nat," he said, "and we may come upon the home of the beautiful trogons, especially the splendid trogon, or quetzal. Then we must make the best of our opportunities."

I had expected that we should make our way back to the boat-camp that night, but we spent so much time exploring the wonders and beauties of the gorge, that evening was coming on when we stopped about a mile higher along the stream than the spot where we first climbed up, and as we were well supplied with provisions, and were pretty well f.a.gged, my uncle decided to camp in the shelter of the rocky side of the ravine for the night.

So Pete was set to collect dead wood for a fire, Cross descended with our kettle to fill it below, and before long we were partaking of a capital meat-tea by the light of the fire; while we strolled a little way from our camp to listen to the various sounds of the night, it seemed as if a fresh world of inhabitants had awakened, and for hours we listened to the strange notes of bird and insect, and watched with wonder the beauty of the fire-flies, which never seemed to grow common.

The fire was burning low when we turned back to camp, and Pete was stretched out on the sandy shelf beneath the great tree he had selected for our resting-place, and snoring as if he meant to make up for the hard day's work.

But Cross was wakeful and ready to throw a few more dry twigs upon the fire to light us as soon as he heard our steps.

"Seen or heard anything, Cross?" I said.

"Crickets, and toads, and frogs, and chuckling birds who seem to think we must be foolish to come right out here into no-man's-land, sir.

That's about all. How have you got on?"

"Had a lovely walk," I said, as I settled down in my place beneath the sheltering boughs. "Good-night, uncle; good-night, everybody," and I believe that in ten minutes' time I was sleeping as soundly as if secure and well housed in a civilised land.

CHAPTER ELEVEN.

WE LOSE THE AXE.

"Well, you can't help liking the place, Master Nat," said Pete the next morning, as we prepared the breakfast, "even if you do have to sleep on the sand with a nubbly stone under your back. Look at it; makes me feel as if I should like to be a savage Indian chief, and always live here shooting and fishing."

"It is lovely," I said, as I gazed around at the glorious scene.

"Why, you could get more birds here than you'll ever want. I think we ought to stay here instead of going away."

"We're only going to fetch up more stores and the tent, Pete. We must bring an axe, too, and make a shed."

"Then we're coming back?"

"Yes."

"Oh, that's all right, then, Master Nat. I did think it a pity to run away again as soon as we'd found this place."

The sun was only just up when after a good breakfast we started to find our way back to the entrance of the cave where we had set off upon our dark journey; and, taking a course which he had marked out from the high ground, my uncle led the way so well that by afternoon we struck the stream again, not by the mouth of the cavern, but miles below it, so that as soon as we could find a way down to its bank we retraced our way, and reached the anch.o.r.ed and well-moored boat long before dark.

Our task now was simple. The loads we were to take up the mountain-gorge were prepared, and next morning, heavily laden, we started with the intention of staying in the neighbourhood of the upper river for a week certain.

It was a hard task, laden as we were, but we managed to reach the camping-place with our heavy loads just at nightfall, one and all completely done up, and content to eat a morsel of food before lying down to sleep at once.

"It's very fortunate for us that the country is quite uninhabited," I remember thinking, as I lay down and revelled in the restful sensation afforded by the soft dry sand, part of a heap which had crumbled from the side of the ravine in the course of ages.

I remember no more till I was awakened by Pete, who announced breakfast, and I stared confusedly in the light of the early dawn at the bright fire, and wondered where I was.

That morning the tent was set up, and a rough shed was cleverly made by Cross, who seemed to glory in showing us how easily he could contrive a good shelter in case we should be overtaken by a tropical storm.

He selected a spot where the rock was out of the perpendicular, hanging over to some extent, and here he soon had four young straight trees set up, held in place by cross-pieces. Then rafters of bamboo were bound in position with the strong creepers which abounded, and this done, he began thatching, first with green boughs, then with a layer of palm-like leaves, which he made to overlap, and a strong reedy gra.s.s, that grew abundantly in a low moist place by the river, was bound on in bundles for a finish.

"Capital," said my uncle; "but too much like stopping for months, when it is hardly likely we shall stay two weeks."

"May as well be comfortable, sir, while we are here," said Cross, smiling. "Keep the sun off, if we don't have rain."

That night we had everything shipshape, and retired early to rest, to enjoy a delicious sleep, which only seemed to last ten minutes before I opened my eyes to find it was morning once more, and I lay wondering what it was that Cross had lost, for it seemed to me in my half-wakeful state that I heard him say:

"Well, no more bones about it; you had it last, and you must find it."

I could not speak till I had made an effort and sat up, and then I was wakeful enough for the words to come.

"What have you lost?" I asked.

"My axe, sir, and I can't get along without that. It's a whole bag of tools to me. Pete had it last thing to chop some wood, and he says he laid it down inside the hut; but it aren't here now, and he's got to find it."

"I can't find it, Master Nat," said Pete dolefully; "he must have took it away and laid it somewhere else himself. Seems such a pity, it do."

"What, to take the axe?" I said.

"Nay--I meant to have a bother about that, and spoiling the holiday. I know the best way to find a thing like that," he added triumphantly.

"How?" I asked.

"Don't look for it, and then you're sure to find it when you least expect."

But the axe was not found then, and it was soon forgotten, for we were too busy searching the sides of the wonderful gorge, going day after day for miles on one side exploring the nooks and crannies, and another day wading across the river to explore the other side.