King o' the Beach Part 25

"But I'm not a small animal, sir," said the boy, shortly. "Yes, it's all very well to laugh, Doctor Kingsmead, and talk about studying a whopping from a natural history point of view, but one couldn't study wasps comfortably sitting on their nest."

"No, and I daresay the cuts were very painful, but the sting will soon pa.s.s off."

"Yes, it's getting better now," said Carey, looking a little more cheerful; "but old Bob keeps on grinning about it. He doesn't look at me, but he keeps on chuckling to himself every minute, and that's what it means. I wish he'd get stung, or something. Hi! look out. Snake!"

His shout aroused a sleeping boa--not one of the giants of its kind, but a good-sized serpent of the sort known among Australian settlers as the carpet snake.

The reptile had been sleeping in the sunshine and, startled into activity, made for its lair, a dense patch of woodland, escaping before anyone could get a shot.

"That's a pretty good proof that this isle was at one time joined to the mainland, Carey," said the doctor, "and this would account for the volcano we are ascending being so dwarfed. There must have been a gradual sinking, and so it is that we find creatures that would not inhabit an ordinary island. For instance, we should not find monitors and carpet snakes in a coral island. Look at the birds too; those kingfishers. Do you see, Bostock, there's an old friend of ours, the great laughing jacka.s.s?"

"Nay," said the old sailor, shading his eyes; "that's not the same.

He's a deal like him, but our old laughing jacka.s.ses down south haven't got all that bright blue in their jackets. Going to shoot him, Master Carey?"

"No," said the boy; "I don't want it. 'Tisn't good to eat."

"There's a lovely bird there," said the doctor, pointing to where there was a flash of dark purply orange, as the sun played upon the head and back of a bird nearly the size of a jay. "A regular Queensland bird.

I've seen it there."

"What is it?" said Carey.

"The rifle bird; a near relative, I believe, to the birds of paradise."

"But it's nearly black," protested Carey. "Birds of paradise are all fluffy buff feathers."

"Some of them," said the doctor, "but there are many kinds, some much more ornamental than the kind you mean."

He raised his gun to shoot the rifle bird, but lowered it again.

"I couldn't preserve it if I shot it," he said. "Come along."

They continued the ascent, finding the heat in the sheltered valley rather more than they could bear, and Carey looked longingly down to his right at the placidly flowing river, thinking how pleasant a dip would be.

"I say," he said at last, "what a little shade there is."

"And unfortunately," said the doctor, "it grows less the higher we get-- a way with the growth on mountains; but we shall soon be high enough to feel the sea breeze, and after all it's a wonderfully interesting tramp."

Carey agreed that it was, for the bird life now was most attractive-- gaily dressed parroquets, green, and with b.r.e.a.s.t.s like gorgeous sunsets, were plentiful.

There were the lovely little zebra parrots, too, in abundance, black c.o.c.katoos, white with sulphur crest, beauties in pink and grey, and finches with black or scarlet heads and b.r.e.a.s.t.s shot with topaz, amethyst, and vivid blue.

Then every rock had its occupants in the shape of silvery-grey, golden-green, or black and orange lizards, some looking as if they were bearded, others bearing a singular frill, while again others were dotted with hideous spikes and p.r.i.c.kles, all being given to turn defiantly upon the intruders to their domain, and menacingly open their gaping mouths, lined with orange, yellow, or rich blue; but ready to take flight all the same and plunge into the rock rift or hole which made their home.

At last there was a rocky slope to climb, up to the left of which a sugar-loaf peak rose, which Carey at once concluded was the one which the doctor had climbed; so, feeling that their task was pretty well achieved, he manfully breasted the rock-strewn slope, ignored the lizards basking in the sun, and directly after gave a shout of satisfaction, for on one side there came a deliciously cool breeze, while on the other he was looking down at a vividly blue lake lying in a hollow a couple of hundred feet below where he stood, and quite sheltered from the wind, so that its surface was like a mirror and reflected the hills all round.

"Lovely, eh, Carey?"

"It is glorious," panted the boy. "Isn't it fine, Bob?"

Bostock grunted, laid down his gun, swung round the satchel containing the food, and pa.s.sed the strap over his head, setting it afterwards on the ground in a very significant manner.

"Yes," said the doctor; "we may as well have our lunch."

"But I say," said Carey, "do you really think this was once a volcano, doctor?"

"Certainly, and the blue water we look down upon was preceded by a lake of fire."

"But how was that? Where did the water come from? Not from the sea."

"No, from the draining of these hills or mountains all round, upon which you have seen the clouds gather and melt into rain."

"And that put out the volcanic fire?" said Carey, quickly.

"Oh, no," replied the doctor, smiling. "If those trickling streams had run down into a lake of fire they would have flown up again in steam with tremendous explosions. This lake of water did not form until the volcano was quite extinct, and--"

"Shall I cut up the wittles, sir?" said Bostock, who had been impatiently waiting for the doctor to end his lecture.

"Here, fall to, Carey; Bostock is getting ravenous." And they ate their lunch, with Carey longing to go down the inner slope to examine the lake for fish and try to find out how deep it was.

It was a double feast, one for the body and one for the brain, the long walk and exertion having made all hungry, and as soon as this was appeased the doctor led the way for the final cone to be climbed.

Here Carey feasted indeed--the gla.s.s showing him through the limpid air reef after reef silvered with spray, and what were evidently islands, looking like faint amethystine clouds floating between sea and sky.

These islands lay to the north-east, but though they all looked long and carefully there was no sign of any great tract of land or continent.

"These are the times, Carey, when one feels one's ignorance," observed the doctor.

"Ignorance? I thought you knew nearly every thing."

"Nearly nothing," said the doctor, laughing. "I mean as compared to what there is to know. Now, for instance, there are charts in the captain's cabin, and the proper instruments for taking observations-- s.e.xtants and chronometer. I ought to be able to tell exactly where we are, Carey, and mark it upon a chart, but I can't."

"Never mind, sir, it's very beautiful," said the boy. "I say, though, we can't see the _Chusan_ from here."

"No, it is cut off by the projecting part of the mountain."

"Yes, and the lower parts and mouth of the river too. But we can see all round the other side of the island."

"Yes, and see what prisoners we are and shall be till some ship comes on a voyage of discovery and sees the great wreck."

"Well," said Carey, thoughtfully, "if it wasn't for one thing I like it, and don't feel in a bit of a hurry to go away."

"And what is the one thing?" asked the doctor.

"Mother and father's trouble. They must think I'm dead."

CHAPTER FIFTEEN.