The Ocean Cat's Paw Part 75

"Yes," said Uncle Paul, "but you don't notice what I mean. Instead of that crimson being a beautiful dye fixed in the feathers, it is a soft red pigment which can be washed out into water and--I saw something moving up that creek," he added, in a low voice.

"n.i.g.g.e.rs perhaps," said the Spaniard, without turning his head.

"Likely to attack?" asked Rodd.

"Pish!" said the Spaniard contemptuously. "Harmless. Fishing perhaps.

We shall see more, I expect, farther on."

He did not trouble himself to turn his head, though the rest in the boat kept a sharp look-out for what had attracted the doctor's attention up a narrow inlet arched over by the overhanging trees, but it was not until close upon evening that, as they pursued their winding way, this side stream opened out more into a reach, and then for the first time a movement some hundreds of yards behind brought forth a warning from Joe Cross, who was seated with the tiller in his hand.

"Just cast your eye back, Mr Rodd, sir," he said; "yonder there where the stream opened out it seems to me there's a canoe with a couple of Indians in it. Nay, I mean blacks."

"Yes; look, captain," said Rodd eagerly; and the Spaniard slowly raised himself up from where he was leaning back, took his cigarette from his lips, shaded his eyes, and then after a cursory glance replaced the cigarette and sank back.

"n.i.g.g.e.rs," he said. "Fishing."

Then they rowed on, leaving the two occupants of the canoe behind, till, coming to what he considered to be a suitable place, the Spaniard suggested that they should stay there for their meal upon an open sandy little beach some fifty yards across, beyond which the forest rose dark and thick again.

"We can land and light a fire," he said, "and make coffee and stretch our legs."

"It would not be safe," said the doctor, "to rig up a tent here, would it?"

"Oh yes," said the captain. "The only thing to trouble us here might be a leopard or two; but a shot would scare them away."

This was good news, and heartily welcomed by the whole party, and in a short time cooking was going on in the glowing embers of a fire, for which there was abundant fuel close at hand, while a canvas tent, strengthened by branches thrust deep in the sand, was cleverly contrived by the sailors.

"I say, Morny, this is something like!" cried Rodd, as they sat together watching the men finishing their meal, with their jovial contented faces lit up by the glowing fire which flashed and cast shadows and sent up golden clouds dotted with tiny spark-like embers, as it was made up from time to time, according to the Spanish captain's suggestion that it would keep away all wild beasts and clear off the snakes.

"Yes; my legs were beginning to feel cramped. I wonder how my father is."

"Oh, he's happy enough," said Rodd, "and enjoying himself with the thought that Skipper Chubb has had a good day's work getting on a new outer skin over the hole."

"Ah, yes, I hope so," cried Morny eagerly, his friend's suggestion seeming to brighten him up.

"And I say," cried Rodd, "shan't we sleep to-night! How I shall stretch! I don't think I should much mind a great spotted cat coming and sniffing round the tent. Of course it would be very horrid to be clawed or bitten, but there's something natural about that. The idea of being grabbed by one of those great slimy reptiles and dragged under water, and before you have had time to squeak--"

"Rodd, don't, please!" cried Morny, with a shudder. "It makes my flesh creep."

"Yes; I was going to say it's time you lads changed your conversation,"

said the doctor quietly, "for none of the forest creatures are likely to disturb us to-night with a watch-fire kept up like this."

"But I say, uncle," said Rodd mischievously, later on--when the watch had been set, with a big pile of dead firewood laid ready to replenish the fire, and Uncle Paul was about to follow the example of the Spanish captain and select his patch of dry sand covered with canvas, beneath the extemporised tent.

"Well, what, my boy?" said the doctor drowsily. "Don't talk now. I am sure every one wants to go to sleep."

"Yes, uncle; I am sure I do," said the boy, who was already fitting the projecting bones of his back into the yielding sand; "but do you think it's likely--"

Rodd stopped to give Morny, who was beside him, a nudge with his elbow.

"Do I think what's likely, Pickle?" replied the doctor.

"That those two black fellows we saw in the canoe will sneak ash.o.r.e to come and do anything to us with their spears?"

"Rodney!" cried the doctor indignantly.

"But they are sure to have spears, uncle, or else they couldn't be sticking the fish."

"Go to sleep, sir!" said the doctor angrily.

Rodd went at once, and did not stir again, till an extra loud crackling of burning wood made him start up in wonder and alarm.

But it was only the morning watch, in the persons of Joe Cross and the appointed cook, making up the fire afresh in view of what Joe called boiling the billy and to give the cook some good broiling embers, for it was the break of day once more.

CHAPTER FORTY THREE.

THE STRANGERS.

Rodd's toilet did not take him long, for though the water was clear and tempting as it rippled on the sand, the recollection of what might possibly be there in the way of ravenous fish, if even there were no reptiles, kept him from venturing for a swim, while when he suggested to the Spaniard the possibility of bathing in safety, the man looked at him in surprise, and his words were tinged with contempt as he said--

"Bathe! What for?"

Rodd did not answer, but turned his back quickly and hurried away to where Morny was questioning Joe Cross and the cook about whether the men they had succeeded in the watch had heard anything in the night.

"Here, catch hold of me, you two," Rodd gasped out, "and help me away there among the trees."

"Hah! What's the matter?" cried Morny. "Are you taken bad?"

"Horrid. Don't talk to me. Get me out of sight. I am going off."

Morny and Joe each caught him by an arm and hurried him in amongst the trees.

"Don't be frightened," gasped out Rodd. "Oh, that Spanish chap! He'll be the death of me!"

"Why, you are laughing!" cried Morny angrily. "How dare you frighten us like this!"

"I--I--I--I--" gasped out Rodd--"couldn't help it, old fellow. Oh, that Spaniard!"

Morny was really angry, but Joe Cross's frank face had expanded into a grim smile.

"What game's he been up to, Mr Rodd, sir?"

"Oh, it was very stupid of me," said Rodd, wiping his eyes; "but I was afraid of laughing in his face, and the more I tried to look serious the more it would come; and I didn't want to offend him."

"Just like 'em, sir," said Joe, as Rodd explained himself more fully.

"'Tis their natur' to; and besides, it's what an old woman I used to know called being codimical. Yes, sir, I've watched 'em aboard that there three-masted schooner. Them there mongrel chaps, they must save a wonderful lot of money every year in soap."

"There," said Rodd, wiping his eyes again, "I am all right now; but it's very comic. The more you feel you mustn't laugh, the worse you are. I suppose laughing must do one good. I always feel so much better after having a good grin."