The carpenter and Pete were in high glee at the news that they were to accompany us, and in the intervals of packing up, their delight was expressed by furtive punches and slaps delivered when one or the other was not looking.

"I am glad, Mr Nat," Bill Cross said to me when we were alone for a few minutes overnight. "I'm not grumbling, sir, and I like making cases and cooking and washing, but I do feel sometimes as if I'd give anything to be able to shoulder a gun and come along with you gents, shooting and hunting for curiosities."

"Well, you'll have a fine chance now, Bill," I said.

"Yes, sir, and it'll just be a treat; for I haven't had much of the fun so far, have I?"

"Fun?" I said.

"Yes, sir; it's fun to a chap like me who when he goes to sleep of a night it's with the feeling that there's a day's work done."

"So it is with all of us," I said. "I work very hard; so does my uncle."

"Yes, sir; but don't you see that what's work to you as can go and do is seems like play to me as is obliged to stay in camp—I mean with the boat. But as I was going to say, after a night's rest when one wakes up it's always to begin another day's work! But there, don't you think I'm grumbling, sir, because I arn't; for I've never been so happy in my life before as since I've been out here with you and the doctor. What time do we start to-morrow?"

"Breakfast before daylight, and start as soon as we can see," I replied.

"Right, sir; I'll be ready."

There was so little novelty in a fresh trip to me then, that I dropped asleep as soon as I lay down in the tent under a big tree ashore, and it seemed like the next minute when the carpenter in his gruff voice called to us that breakfast was nigh ready.

I looked up, to see his face by the lanthorn he had brought alight, as he hung it from a hook on the tent-pole; and then after making sure that my uncle was awake, I hurried out into the darkness, where Pete was busy frizzling bacon over the glowing embers, ran down into the fresh, cool water for my bath, and came out with my blood seeming to dance through my veins.

Our breakfast was soon dispatched, and before the sun rose the tent had been fastened up, our guns and satchels shouldered and swung, and in addition Cross carried a coil of rope and the lanthorn, now out and freshly trimmed.

"Be useful," he said, with a sage nod of the head. "S'pose we shall be out all night."

The next minute he and Pete shouldered the extra guns and the packs they were to carry in case our trip lasted over more than a couple of days; and we set off in single file steadily up the side of the stream between the walls of rock, and sometimes wading across it to find better ground. Twice over we waded in the middle of the water, where it was sandy, and found it nowhere over our knees.

In due time we reached the spot where the walls of the gorge had drawn together and the end was closed by the perpendicular mountain at whose foot was the little natural arch out of which the water came gurgling swiftly. Here my uncle stopped for the load-bearers to have a short rest before we began to climb upward to Puma Vale, as I had dubbed it.

Pete and Cross used their loads as seats, and the latter, who had not seen the place before, sat looking about attentively, while my uncle took out his little double-glass and examined the towering mountain for signs of birds upon the ledges or trees which clung to the sides.

The carpenter turned to me and nodded.

"Strange pretty place, Mr Nat," he cried, "and it's just like Pete said it was. Going up yonder to try and find the river again farther on, aren't we?"

"Yes, and I think we shall find it."

"Wouldn't it be better to keep on up it? Should be sure of it then."

"But don't you see that we can go no farther?" I said wonderingly.

"No, sir, I don't. Water's not above eighteen inches deep, and it's nice sandy bottom."

"But it nearly touches the top of the arch," I said.

"Just there it do, sir, but that's only the doorway; it may be ever so high inside. P'raps I'm wrong, though. You've tried it, then?"

"What, tried to get under that horrible dark arch? Oh, no!"

"Why not?" said the man coolly. "I don't see nothing horrid. Dessay it'll be dark, but we've a lanthorn."

"But we should have to wade, and in the darkness we might go down some horrible hole."

Cross shook his head.

"Nay," he said; "you might do that if the water was running the other way downward, but we should have to go up stream with the water coming to us. We shouldn't find any holes; what we should find more likely would be waterfalls, and have to climb up 'em."

"What's that?" cried my uncle, who had caught part of what was said, and he was told the rest.

"Let's have a look, Nat," he said, and slipping off our boots and stockings we waded on over the soft sand to where the water came rushing out through the arch, stooping down and peering in as we listened to the gurgling and whispering of the water.

"Shall we have the lanthorn, and I'll stoop down and see if the roof gets higher farther in?" I said.

"Would you mind doing it?" said my uncle.

"I don't think I should like it much," I said; "but I'll try."

"Let me go, Master Nat, sir," said Pete eagerly; "I won't mind."

"Sounds as if there's plenty of room inside, sir," said Cross, who had followed our example and waded in.

"Let's see," said my uncle, stooping down, after cocking his gun. Then holding it as if it were a pistol, he reached in as far as he could and fired both barrels.

The reports sounded dull and smothered, and as we listened my uncle said:

"It is only a narrow passage, I think."

Then he was silent, for the reports were repeated ten times as loudly, and went on reverberating again and again, from farther and farther away, till they gradually grew indistinct and strange, for there was a strange dull roar growing louder and louder till the echoes were drowned, while the roar seemed to come on and on, till without hesitation on anyone's part we turned and ran splashing out of the stream to the shore, to escape from a dark rushing cloud which came streaming out of the mouth of the cave with screams, hisses, and whisperings, out and away down the narrow ravine till it seemed to be filled with birds and bats, while a strange black-beetly odour assailed our nostrils.

"No doubt about there being plenty of room, lads," said my uncle, as he laughed at our scared faces, for the sudden rush out was startling.

"Is them owls, sir?" said the carpenter, staring.

"No, no," replied my uncle; "they are something of the goat-sucker tribe—night-birds which build in caves; but a good half of what we see are bats."

"Yes, I can see they're bats, sir, and the biggest I ever did see. Well, they won't hurt us, sir?"

"No, but they're terribly afraid we shall hurt them," said my uncle. "Well, Nat, what do you say? Shall we explore the underground river?"

I felt as if I should like to say, "No, I would rather not," but the pride within me made me take the other view of the matter.

"Yes," I said, "of course," and the sense of unwillingness was forgotten in the desire to laugh at the look of horror in Pete's face as he stared appealingly from one to the other.

"You won't mind, Cross?" said my uncle.

"No, sir; I should like it," replied the man.

"Light the lanthorn."

"Shall we take our loads with us, uncle?" I said.

"Certainly. If the way through is short we shall want them at the other side. If it is long we shall want some refreshments on the way."

"But suppose—" I began, and then I stopped.

"Suppose what?" said my uncle.

"Suppose the river does not pass through the mountain, but comes from deep down somewhere."

"The more interesting the discovery of its hidden source, my lad. But that is not likely. Look at the rock. What is it—granite or gneiss?"

"No," I said; "limestone."

"Well, you ought to know how limestone ridges are honeycombed with water-formed caverns. We have several examples at home. If this subterranean river came bubbling up from somewhere in the interior and the rock were granite, I should expect it to be hot."

"And it's quite cold, sir," said Cross.

"Oh, no, just pleasantly cool. I don't think there's a doubt about its having its source higher up in the mountains; but whether it has dived down for a few hundred yards or a few miles we can only know by exploring."

"Well, Cross," I said to the carpenter, "will this be fun enough for you?"

"Splendid, sir," said the man enthusiastically. "I never had a treat like this."

"Master Nat," whispered Pete, "am I to come too?"

"Of course," I said. "Tuck up your trousers as high as you can."

"But suppose we have to swim, sir?"

"Look here, Pete," I said, "you don't want to come."

"No, sir. Can't help it, sir, but I never could a-bear the dark."

"Then I'll ask my uncle to let you stop behind."

"What!" cried the poor fellow fiercely, "leave me behind, and you go? That you just won't, sir. I'd go if it was twice as dark."

I saw him set his teeth, and then, as my uncle gave the word, he climbed up to a verdant cleft with Cross to cut four stout bamboos about six feet long to act as walking-staves.

"We must always be ready to feel our way and try the depth," said Uncle Dick; "and avoid any holes. If it grows deeper as we go on and there is no bare rock at the sides, of course we must return."

A few minutes later our guns were slung across our backs, the loads taken up, and, each armed with a staff, we made our start—Cross, as he held the lanthorn, asking leave to lead the way.

"We shan't be able to do it, Master Nat," whispered Pete, as we followed in turn, Pete last, for it was very hard work, the barrels of our guns scraping again and again against the roof during the first twenty yards or so; but Pete had hardly uttered the above words before I saw Cross raise the lanthorn higher. Then my uncle began to walk erect, and directly after I found on raising my staff that I could not touch the roof, while a sharp whistle uttered by our lanthorn-bearer was echoed from far on high.

"Plenty of room upwards, sir," cried Cross.

"Yes," said my uncle.

"Ugh! what a horrid place, Master Nat!" whispered Pete, who kept as close to me as he could. "Do mind, sir."

"Mind what?" I said.

"The holes. If you step into one of them there's no knowing how deep they are. They must be just like wells."

"How do you know?" I said gruffly; and he was silent, giving me time to look to right and left and forward, as far as the light of the lanthorn would allow.

There was not much to see—only a faint halo of light, with reflections sometimes from dripping rocks; but it seemed that there was no shore to the river on either side such as would afford footing, while as far as I could make out the stream was about the same width as it was outside.

There was the dancing light on ahead, playing strangely on the surface of the gliding waters, and all around black darkness, while the vast cavern in which we were, seemed to be filled with strange sounds, splashings, ripplings, whisperings, and their echoes.

"Hear that, Master Nat?" said Pete, getting close beside me and grasping my arm.

"Of course I can," I said pettishly, for it was bad enough to suffer from one's own feelings, without being troubled at such a time by others.

"But—oh, there it goes again," he whispered.

"What goes again?" I said.

"That, sir. I dunno what it is, but there seems to be lots of 'em. Bill Cross stirs 'em up with the stick and the light, and they swims off both sides, and then you can hear 'em splashing with their tails as they come back again."

"Nonsense!" I said. "That's all imagination."

"Oh, no, it aren't, sir," he whispered. "I say, what did you say was the name of them big snakes that lives part of their time in the water?"

"Anacondas."

"That's them, sir. We've got all amongst 'em here, and they'll be having one of us directly."

"Pooh! There's nothing alive in this dark place," I said scornfully.

"What! Why, wasn't it alive with birds and bats?"

"Oh, yes, but I don't believe there's a fish in these dark waters."

"Fish! Oh, I don't mind fish, sir, as long as they aren't sharks. It's them conders I can't bear. It wouldn't so much matter if we were in the dark, but we've brought a light to show 'em where we are."

"There are no snakes here," I said angrily.

"It's all very well for you to say so, Master Nat," he replied; "but you just listen. There! Hear that?"

"Yes, the splash against the side of the wave we make in wading."

Pete was about to say something more, but just then my uncle turned his head.

"Use your bamboo well, Nat," he said, "in case of there being any cracks; but the bottom seems very level, and the depth keeps about the same. Nice and cool here. Keep close up. What's that, Cross?"

"Only a stone standing right up, sir; water washes round it. It's best to keep right in the middle, I think."

"You must judge about that," said my uncle. "Go on."

"How far do you think we've come, sir, now?"

"About a quarter of a mile, I should say."

"That's what I thought, sir," said the carpenter, and he waded steadily on, with us following.

After a time it grew very monotonous, but we persevered, finding the underground river sometimes a little deeper, then shallower, so that the water rippled just above our ankles, while we knew at times that the cavern was wide and high, at others that it closed in on either side, and twice over the roof was so close that I could touch it with my stick.

The times when it opened out were plain enough, for our splashings or voices echoed and went whispering far away. But otherwise the journey was very tame, and as the feeling of awe died away, the journey seemed uncommonly free from danger, for I felt it was absurd to imagine the waters to be peopled with strange creatures.

We had been wading on for quite a couple of hours, when the water began to grow more sluggish, and to flow very quietly, rising, too, higher and higher, till it was above our waists, and the light reflected from the surface showed that it was very smooth.

"Keep on, sir?" said Cross.

"Yes," said my uncle. "Keep on till it nearly touches your chin. Then we'll turn back."

Pete uttered a low groan, but followed in a despairing way, while we went on for another quarter of an hour, with the water deeper and deeper, and at last, to our great delight, my uncle said:

"There, the water is rippling up in my beard, so it is time to go back."

"Hah!" ejaculated Pete, and then he groaned, for Cross said:

"Not so deep now as it was ten minutes ago, sir."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes, sir. I know by my stick. I keep my hand so that it touches the water, and I've had to move it twice in the last five minutes. It's not so deep now by three inches."

"Go on, then," said my uncle, and we followed, to find the water getting shallower rapidly now. Ten minutes later it was below my waist, and in another ten minutes not above mid-thigh; but it had evidently widened out, for our voices seemed to go off far away into the distance, and my uncle suddenly said:

"Why, Nat, the river must have widened out into a regular lake. How shall we find the place where it narrows again?"

"Foller that there sound, sir, I think," said Cross.

"What sound?" I said.

"That, sir; listen. I can hear where it seems to be rushing in ever so far away."

"Yes, I can hear it now," I said.

"Forward, then," said my uncle, and with the water once more but little above our knees we waded steadily on after the light which Cross bore breast-high.

"Cheer up, Pete," I said; "we must be getting on now. Why, if it came to the worst we could turn back."

"Never find the way, sir," he said bitterly, and then he uttered a yell, closely following upon a sharp ejaculation from the carpenter, who suddenly placed his foot in some cavity of the smooth floor, fell forward with an echoing splash, and the next moment the lanthorn disappeared beneath the gleaming surface, leaving us in utter darkness.

Wash, wash, ripple, ripple went the water, and the cries whispered away as fading echoes, and then Pete's voice rose in a piteous wail.

"I knowed it, I knowed it," he said. "We shall never see the light again. Oh, help, Master Nat, help! Here's one of them water-conders got me by the leg to pull me down."

A cry that went to my heart and sent a shudder through every nerve, for the darkness seemed so thick that it might be felt.



CHAPTER TEN.

INTO THE SUNLIGHT AGAIN.

There was a loud splashing noise, another cry, and the gurgling made by someone being dragged under water; and then, just as I felt that the horror was greater than I could bear, the carpenter cried:

"What's the matter with you? Don't make a row like that."

"I—I felt something ketch hold of me and pulling me down."

"Something! Do you call me something?" growled the carpenter. "Of course I catched hold of you. You'd catch hold if you tumbled as I did. Bad job about the light, master."

"Yes, a very bad job," said my uncle's voice out of the darkness. "How was it?"

"Stepped down into some hole, sir. Felt myself going right into a crack-like sort o' place."

"All stand still, then," cried my uncle, "while I strike a match. Where's the lanthorn?"

"Oh, I've got that fast, sir; but you won't get the wick to light, I'm afraid, now."

"Here, stop!" I cried, as a sudden feeling of delight shot through me. "I can see daylight yonder."

"Bravo! Well done, Nat!" cried my uncle. "It's a long way off, but there's a faint gleam yonder in the direction from which that sound of falling water comes. Let me lead now, Cross. I think I can manage without a light."

"Better feel about well, sir, with your stick," said the carpenter. "That hole I trod in was rather awkward."

"I'll mind," said my uncle; "follow me close," and he began to wade in the direction of the faint gleam of light.

"Did you get wet, Pete?" I said.

"Wet, sir? He pulled me right under water. It's buzzing in my ears now."

"Better than being pulled under by a water-snake, Pete," I said, and he gave a shivering shudder as we followed on without either coming across the hole, and at the end of a quarter of an hour the light ahead was rapidly growing plainer, while the roar of falling water became louder and echoed through the vast cavern over whose watery floor we progressed.

In another half-hour's slow wading, we were able to make out our position, one which now became more striking minute by minute, for we could see that we were in a vast chasm whose bottom was the rushing foaming river along which we were wading. It was some fifty feet wide, and the roof overhead nearly as much, while right in front, at the distance of a couple of hundred yards, and facing us as it now sent ever-changing flashes and reflections of light into the cavern, was the great fall whose waters thundered as they dived from somewhere out of sight into a huge basin whose overflowings formed the underground river along which we journeyed.

The scene became more beautiful minute by minute, the noise more deafening; and at last we stopped short, warned by the increasing depth of the water, and the sight of the great pool into which the cascade thundered down.

We were standing in the beautiful green twilight water to the middle, but no one for a time wished to stir, the scene was so grand, made more beautiful as it was from time to time by a gleam of sunshine shooting down across the faint mist of spray which floated upwards, and wherever this bright light fell we had glimpses of what seemed like fragments of a broken rainbow.

"Very beautiful, Nat," said my uncle at last, "but the floor here is rather damp; I am tired and hungry; and we have to get out. Which way shall we try?"

"Not go back, uncle," I said quickly. "Let's get into the sunshine again."

"Certainly; but how? We can't wade any farther without risk of drowning. What do you say, Cross?"

"Yonder's an awful pit, sir," said the carpenter.

"I could climb over the stones at the side there," said Pete suddenly.

"Well, I think it possible," said my uncle. "But where's that rope?"

"I've got it here, sir, round me," said Pete.

"Well, we'll make one end fast round you, and pay out the line as you climb, so that we can haul you in if you fall into the deep water. Will you try?"

"Oh, yes, sir; I'll try," cried Pete.

We made for the side, to find it slightly shallower, and after knotting the rope round his waist, Pete was started up the rocks, which proved, in spite of their threatening appearance much less difficult than we had anticipated, so that in a few minutes the lad had climbed to the level of the top of the falls, where he stood on a broad shelf, and by the help of the rope hauled up our baskets and satchels.

This done, Pete threw the rope down to us, then it was made fast to my waist and I began to climb, Pete hauling in the slack as I advanced, finding the way giddy but easy to climb. The danger was a slip upon the mossy rocks, wet with the fine spray which rose from the awful watery pit below.

But the touch of the rope gave confidence, and in a few minutes I was by Pete's side, ready to throw down the rope to Cross, who came up with the sure-footedness of a sailor. Then the packs were hauled up, and my uncle followed.

Our task was not yet done, for we had to take to the river again, just beyond the edge of the fall, a hundred feet above where we had waded before, and found ourselves in a narrow gorge with almost perpendicular sides covered with tree, bush, creeper, and wonderful ferns, all made glorious by the sunshine and blue sky.

The water was shallow, and we made fair progress, always looking the while for some way out of the gorge, whose beauties tempted us to linger, for we were once more among flowers, insects, and birds, one of the first of which sailed slowly overhead and across the gorge—an eagle with widespread pinions.

"Out of shot," said my uncle, as we stood knee-deep watching the large bird till it floated right out of sight.

"And not the sort of specimen we want, if it were in, uncle," I said.

"Quite right, Nat. Look yonder at the finches and those lovely blue creepers; but they're not what we want."

"No, uncle," I said; "I'm looking for what we do want. Ought not the quetzals to be found in a place like this?"

"We are in their region, Nat," he replied, "and that is all I can say. We know so little about them, the skins having been mostly supplied by the Indians. But these rocks and patches of timber ought to be their home."

"There's a place, sir, where we might climb up out of this hollow," said Cross just then, and he pointed to a mere gash in the rocks, down which a tiny rivulet trickled.

It proved to be passable, and at the end of another quarter of an hour we were upon fairly level ground, open, and in the full sunshine, ready to rest, bask, dry our clothes, and sit down to what seemed to me the most delicious meal I had ever eaten.

In spite of the length of time which we had apparently spent in the darkness, it was still early in the day, and it was not long, after a good rest upon a hot rock in the sunny glow, before the two sufferers from their plunge were able once more to go about in quite dry clothes.

By this time we had made use of pocket compass and glass, taking bearings, so to speak, and pretty well made out our position to be only a few miles to the south and west of Puma Valley, while my uncle was in ecstasies with the promising appearance of the district, for as a collecting ground we had mountain, forest, plain, valley, and the lovely river-gorge waiting to be farther explored.

"If the quetzals are to be found, Nat," said my uncle, "we ought to see them here."

"What about going back, uncle?" I said, interrupting him.

"Back!" he cried. "What, are you tired already?"

"No, I was thinking about the possibility of getting up the tent and some more stores so as to be able to thoroughly explore these higher grounds."

"Yes," he said; "that's what we must do. I fancy we can make our way back without going through that hole again; but it was well worth the trouble, since it led us to this lovely ravine."

"Pst!" I whispered; "Pete sees something. He is making signs. Look, he is signing to those trees."

We seized our guns and advanced cautiously in the direction pointed out, separating so as to cover all the ground, in the full expectation of seeing some rare bird or another take flight. But we met on the other side of the cluster of trees indicated, after having passed right through without a sign.

"Gone on to the next patch, uncle," I whispered; and we went on again, carrying out the same plans; and a finch or two took flight, but nothing more.

Again we went on, and tried a third little clump, but with no better fortune, and we stopped and looked at each other.

"Whatever it was, it is too cunning for us, Nat," said my uncle, "so we may as well give it up, for we could go on like this till dark."

"Yes," I said, with a sigh, "and it's hot and tiring work."

"Never mind; let's go back now," he said. "We don't even know what it was the lad saw."

We began to retrace our steps, keeping a sharp look-out, but seeing nothing but some active lizards sunning themselves among the rocks, and a rattlesnake, which we carefully left at rest; but before we were half-way back to where we had left our companions we came upon them with the spare guns.

"Haven't you shot it, sir?" asked Pete, staring hard at my uncle.

"No, we have not even seen it, whatever it is," said my uncle, smiling.

"Wonderful handsome bird, sir, with long blue and green and red and yellow feathers in its tail."

"Macaw—Ara," said my uncle; "flying across from tree to tree?"

"Yes, sir, I daresay it was," said Pete; "but it wasn't flying; it was on the ground, and when we saw it, in it went among the bushes quite slowly, didn't it, Bill?"

"You said it did, my lad," replied Cross. "I didn't see it."

"Long green, blue, red, and yellow feathers in its tail?" said my uncle.

"Yes, sir; that's it," looking up.

"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 cock, 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 fagged, 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 anchored 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 grass, 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.

But though we discovered and shot numbers of the most beautiful birds, many of them quite new to both, we saw no sign of those we sought, and at last my uncle had decided that we must move a few miles higher, when a discovery was made which sent a thrill of hopefulness through us, and we began exploring and shooting more eagerly than ever, devoting each morning to the task and the evenings to skinning and preserving, till our selection of beautiful skins began to grow to an extent far greater than we had intended.

Meanwhile we had been living a gloriously free and happy life; expeditions had been made twice to the boat for more necessaries, which were supplemented by an abundant supply of birds and fishes, the upper waters being so full of the latter that it was an easy task of a morning for Pete and me to catch enough for a meal.

But we had a few unpleasant experiences. Twice over we found that rattlesnakes had been attracted by the fire and had taken possession of quarters in our tent, for which, as they viciously showed fight, they were condemned to death and executed.

One morning, too, on waking, I caught sight of peculiar marks on the loose dry sand, a smooth deep furrow having been made, to which I drew my uncle's attention.

"We ought to hunt out the creature which made that, Nat," said my uncle. "Rather an unpleasant neighbour to have. Why, the fellow that marked that trail must be a good eighteen feet long."

It, too, suffered for its temerity, for it came again, and was seen by Pete on awaking in the morning, when he cautiously drew my attention to the monster's presence near the fire.

The next minute a couple of shots from my double gun rang out, and the huge serpent was writhing and twining among the bushes, and beating them flat by blows from its powerful tail.

Cross skinned it when it was dead, saying that he must have it for a curiosity if we did not, and probably it stretched a little in the process, for it proved to be a python, twenty feet in length and enormously thick.

It was the very next day when we were about to move, the visit of the python and the possibility of one from its mate having decided our immediate change, after a final tramp round in search of the birds we wanted.

But we had no more luck than usual. We could have shot plenty of specimens, but not those we sought, and we were nearing our camp when all at once what I took to be a pigeon dashed out of a tree, and meaning it for a roast, my gun flew to my shoulder, I fired hastily, and the bird fell.

"Uncle!" I cried, as I picked it out dead from among a clump of ferns.

"A quetzal!" shouted my uncle excitedly, for it was a scarlet-breasted bird, with back and wing, coverts of a glorious golden-green.

"But you said that they had tails three or four feet long."

"Yes," said my uncle; "the kind I want to find have, while this is only short; but here is proof that we are working in the right direction."

"Then we must stop here, uncle," I cried.

"Yes, Nat, it would be madness to leave. We must wait till the right ones come."

That bird's wonderfully oily and tender skin was carefully stripped off in the evening, and it had a drying box all to itself, one made expressly by Cross, who confided to me that it was the finest bird he had ever seen.

"Some of they humming-birds is handsome enough," he said, "but there's nothing of 'em. This one's grand. Now, if I could only find that there chopper as Pete lost—"

"Didn't lose it," growled Pete.

"—I should be," continued the carpenter, severely, "a happy man. Aren't you, sir?"

"No," I said; "nor shall be till I shoot some with tails three feet long."

The finding of this specimen completely, as I have said, changed our plans.

"It would be folly to go away now, Nat," repeated my uncle, "for at any moment we may find quite a flock."

This was one afternoon, when we had returned after an unsuccessful hunt, to take out our treasure and gloat over its wonderful plumage.

"Yes," I said; "but it's very tiresome, all this failure. Perhaps this is the only one for hundreds of miles."

"Nonsense!" cried my uncle. "I daresay, if the truth were known, we pass scores of them every day, sitting after the fashion of these trogons, perfectly still like a ball of feathers, watching us, and with their green plumage so like that of the leaves that we might go by hundreds of times and not see them."

"Oh!" I cried, "we could not pass one of them. The sun would make those beautiful golden-green wing coverts flash again."

"In the sunshine, my boy, but they rest in the deep shade. We shall come upon them yet, and find out their habits. Then all will be easy. Anyone searching for birds of paradise in New Guinea might go scores of times without success, and come away and say there are none. Just as it is in Australia: at one time of year flocks of the great white and sulphur cockatoos can be found; at another time you may search the same district for months and not see one."

"Yes, uncle," I said wearily, for I was tired after a long walk in the hot sun pestered by flies; "and I suppose there are plenty of birds about here that we have not seen. Why, of course, we haven't seen Pete's wonderful specimen yet."

"No," said my uncle drily, "and I shall be very much surprised if we ever do."

"Do you think there is nothing of the kind, then?" I said.

"I don't like to be positive, but I should say that he made that bird out of his own head."

"Oh, I don't think so, uncle," I replied; "Pete's very honest and straightforward."

"Yes, but he lets his brain run riot, Nat. He saw some bird, I do not doubt, but not clothed and ornamented as he says."

"There are birds with brightly-coloured tails such as he said?"

"Are there?" said my uncle drily. "I think not. If there be I should like a specimen; it would be an exciting display for the learned bird-lovers in London to gaze at. Don't you see, my boy, he furnished the specimen he saw with the tail plumage of three different varieties of the macaw—the green the blue, and the red. Pete's eyes played tricks with him that time. I wish he would see the long floating feathers of a quetzal flashing its green and gold and purple in the sunshine."

"So do I, uncle," I replied. "I wish we could find and shoot dozens of them, but I don't long for the task of skinning them; they are so delicate and likely to tear."

"Like all the birds related to the cuckoos," said my uncle; "but we were very successful over this. By the way, Pete is getting very handy in that way. We must trust him with some of the commoner things, for it seems as if after all we shall have to fill up with the best of the less-known birds."

"Oh, no," I said, as I carefully smoothed down the loose silky plumage of our solitary specimen. "We're tired now. When we have had a good wash and our tea-dinner we shall feel different."

I carefully put away the trogon, and crossed to where Pete was busy getting the kettle to boil, and making other preparations for our evening meal. No light task, for his fire troubled him a good deal, and he began about it at once.

"What I want, Master Nat," he said, "is some regular good stiff clay to make up into bricks. They'd bake hard. As for these stones I build up a fireplace and oven with, some go bang and fly off in splinters, and the other sort moulders all away into dust—regular lime, you know, that fizzles and cisses when it's cold and you pour water over it, and then comes hot again."

"Try some of those pieces out of the river bed."

"I have, sir, and they're worst of all. I say, Master Nat, stop and see that the pot don't boil over. I want to go down and get some fresh, clean water."

"Don't be long, then," I cried. "I say, what's in the pot?"

"Dicky bird stoo!" said Pete, grinning. "No touching while I'm gone."

He caught up the bucket and started off down the cliff-side towards the river, while I idly watched him till he was out of sight, and sat back away from the glow of the fire, for I was hot enough without that.

Then I naturally began thinking about the splendid trogons, and whether there was any likely place near that we had not well hunted through.

"Lots," I said to myself. "They're here to-day and gone to-morrow. That's the way with birds, except when they have nests. They go about according to where they can find food. Hullo! He can't have got to the water in this short time."

For I had caught sight of Pete hurrying back, and as soon as he saw me watching him climbing up from below he begun to make signs to me not to speak.

"What has he found?" I said to myself, for he was creeping up nearly bent double and moving with the greatest caution.

I rose to go down to him, but at the slightest movement he waved his hand to me to keep back; so I waited till he came up, panting, his face covered with the great drops of perspiration.

"Seen a big snake?" I said, laughing.

"No," he whispered; "don't make a noise. I've seen the troghums."

"What!" I cried excitedly.

"Don't," he whispered, "or you may frighten 'em again."

"But do you mean to say you've seen some of the beautiful trogons?"

"No," he panted, "not them; I've seen two or three of them other birds with the green and yellow and blue cocked-up tails, same as I saw before and you couldn't find."

"Where are they?" I cried eagerly, for it was evident that he had seen something new in the way of birds.

"Down below in the path we cut away to get to the water. They're behind the low bushes, three or four of 'em, and I could see their tails cocking up over the top. Guns, quick, 'fore they're gone and you say I was dreaming again."

I uttered a low chirruping signal which brought my uncle and Cross to hear the news, and the next minute we had seized our guns.

None too soon, for we were hardly ready before Pete pointed triumphantly downward towards a clump of ferns some twenty yards away, where I distinctly saw something move.

"Now, aren't there no birds with tails like that?" he whispered, and I saw plainly in three places just such feathers as he had described rise into sight; but they were not the tails of birds, being the fantastic feather tiaras of Indians, whose dark faces rose now full in our view.

The next moment we saw that they were armed with bows, and I had hardly realised this when there was a twanging sound, the whizz of arrows, and I uttered a cry of pain.

It was as if a red-hot iron had passed through my shoulder, and my cry was echoed by an Indian yell.



CHAPTER TWELVE.

ATTACKED BY INDIANS.

My pang of agony was accompanied by a feeling of rage against the cause of it, and in blind fury I fired both barrels of my gun in the direction of the Indians, almost at the same moment as my uncle and the carpenter discharged theirs.

The reports were followed by another yell, the crashing of bushes and ferns, and the sound as of men tearing away.

"Take care, Cross," cried my uncle. "Load again, and keep under cover. Hah! there goes one of the treacherous hounds. Gone, and I'm not loaded. Now I am. Not hurt, are you, Nat?"

"I'm afraid I am," I said, drawing in my breath with pain.

"Here, let's look," cried my uncle. "Keep under cover, Pete. I don't want anyone else to be hurt. You, Cross, look out, and fire at the first sign. Now, Nat, what is it? Tut, tut, tut! There, keep a good heart, my lad. It has gone clean through your shoulder."

"Poisoned, uncle?" I cried anxiously.

"Pooh! Nonsense, boy! Hold still. It will not be a long operation."

I saw him take out his keen knife.

"Are you going to cut out the arrow head?" I said huskily.

"There is no need; the Indian did that for you. Look here."

I could not help shuddering, but I was firm, and watched him take hold of the slender arrow close to my shoulder, and with one stroke cut cleanly through it close to the wing-feathers. Then, going behind me, he seized the other part and made me wince once more with pain, as with one quick, steady movement, he drew the missile right through.

"Hurt?" he said cheerfully.

"Horribly, uncle."

"Never mind that. It's only through flesh. No bone-touch, and there are only a couple of little holes to heal up. Pan of water here, Pete."

"Aren't none, sir. I was going to fetch a bucket when I see what I thought was birds."

"Tut, tut, tut!" ejaculated my uncle. "I must have some water to bathe the wounds."

"All right, sir; I'll run down for some. Bucket's down there."

"No, no! The Indians—they may attack you."

"What!" cried Pete in a whimpering voice; "touch me when I'm going for some water for Master Nat? They'd better! I'd smash 'em."

Before he could be stopped he was bounding down the precipitous place, and my uncle turned anxiously to Cross.

"See any sign of them?" he said.

"Yes, sir, twice over; but they were too quick for me to get a shot. They've waded the river down yonder, and I got a glimpse of two of 'em climbing up."

"Hah! Then he may escape them. Cross, one of us ought to follow and cover him."

"Right, sir. I'm off," cried the carpenter, and he hurried down our way to the river, just as we heard two sharp cracks from somewhere below.

"Make you feel sick, Nat?" said my uncle.

"No, I forgot it just then. I was thinking what a trump Pete is. Poor fellow! He has risked his life to get me that water."

"Yes," said my uncle through his teeth: "he's a brave fellow, and he likes you, Nat."

No more was said, and in a few minutes we heard the rustling of bushes and saw Bill Cross coming backwards with his gun at the ready, covering Pete, who was panting up with his bucket of water.

The next minute my smarting wounds were being bathed and the bleeding encouraged till it stopped naturally, when my uncle brought out his pocket-book, applied some lint from it, and bandaged the places firmly, afterwards turning a handkerchief into a sling.

"There," he said, "you need not fidget about poison, my lad. The place will soon heal. Now then, any sign of the enemy?"

"No, sir," cried Pete; "they cut away across the river, all but that chap that was hit."

"Was one hit?" said my uncle eagerly.

"Yes, sir; he's lying down yonder by the water, and he's got our chopper."

"What?"

"I come upon him lying bleeding, and as soon as he saw me he began to put an arrow on his bow-string; but I hit him on the nose, broke his bow in two, and chucked his arrows in the river. He must have come before, and sneaked our old axe."

"Then he's there now?"

"Yes, sir; he can't run. You winged him—I mean legged. But I've got our chopper again."

"Sit still, Nat," said my uncle. "Here, Pete, carry my gun, and you, Cross, come and cover me. I can't leave the poor wretch like that."

I saw Cross frown as he followed my uncle, and Pete stopped for a moment behind with me.

"I mustn't stop, Master Nat," he said. "I am sorry, sir, but don't you be a downhearted 'un. I shan't be long. I say: who was right about the axe?"

I nodded my thanks to him, and then sat back, in acute pain, thinking about the sudden change in the state of our affairs, and of how necessary it would be for us to retreat into a safer part of the country. It was all so unexpected and so vexatious, just as in all probability we might be on the point of discovering the birds we sought.

I was musing in a half-faint way, the pain and shock having made me feel very sick, when I heard the sounds of the returning party, and to my surprise they brought in the wounded Indian on Cross's back, the poor fellow being in a half-fainting condition from a frightful wound in the right thigh.

As he was laid down on his back he began to come-to, and looked wildly round, while when he saw my uncle approach him knife in hand, he set his teeth and made a fierce attempt to rise.

But Cross was holding him from behind, and the poor fellow was helpless. He evidently believed that his enemy was about to put him to death, and on finding that he could not help himself he seemed ready to calmly accept his fate, for he fixed his eyes upon my uncle with a bitter, contemptuous smile, and then folded his arms and lay there like an image cast in bronze.

It was not a fierce countenance, being smooth, large-eyed, and disposed to be effeminate and plump, while when my uncle busied himself over the terrible wound with the knife, and must have given the man excruciating pain, he did not even wince, but kept gazing hard at his surgeon who tortured him, as if proud and defiant to the last.

His expression only began to change when he saw the knife laid aside and Pete bring some water in the tin for my uncle to bathe the wound; and now it was full of wonder as the place was covered with lint from the pocket-book, and then carefully bandaged from the supply ready against accidents.

"There, my fine fellow," said my uncle at last; "now if you keep quiet, you being a healthy fellow, young and strong, that bad wound will soon heal. If you had left us alone you would not have got it. You don't understand, of course; but you must lie still."

The Indian's countenance changed more than ever. He had fully grasped the fact that he was not to be slain, and also that his wound had been carefully dressed, and with his fierce aspect completely gone, he took hold of the hand with which my uncle was pressing him back to lie still, and held it against his forehead, smiling up at him the while; and then he sank back and closed his eyes.

"It's a bad wound, Nat, but he'll get over it. That must have been your shot."

"Why not yours?" I said. "I couldn't shoot with that arrow through me."

"But you did, for it was done with the big swan pellets, and I had nothing but dust shot in my gun, for the little birds."

"Oh!" I cried wonderingly.

"Ah, that's why you made that poor fellow cry."

As I lay and thought afterwards I was to my dissatisfaction convinced that mine had been the hand which fired the shot, and the knowledge of this somehow made me feel a kind of sympathy for the savage who lay there far more badly wounded than I, while the carpenter and my uncle, with Pete's help, built up a kind of semi-circular hedge as a defence around us.

"We can't begin our retreat with you in that condition, Nat," my uncle said, "and I don't like to be driven away by a little party of ruffians like these."

"I could walk," I said.

"I know that," he replied curtly; "walk yourself into a state, of fever, and make your wound go bad. Look at that fellow; Nature teaches him what to do—lie still—curl up like an animal, till his injury heals. What are you thinking about?"

"That poor fellow's wound."

"Poor fellow! Possibly the savage who sent that arrow through your shoulder. You're a rum fellow, Nat."

"Well, you were just as sympathetic, uncle," I said. "See how you dressed his wound, just as if he were a friend."

"No, I did not, Nat," he said, smiling. "I dressed him just as a surgeon should a wounded patient. By the way, he did not seem to bear any malice."

"Perhaps he will, uncle, when he knows I shot him."

"Don't tell him, then. We'll all share the blame."

"So you mean to stop here, then?" I said.

"Yes, certainly, for the present. Why, if we were to begin to pack up, I daresay the next thing we should see would be a flock of quetzals flying about."

"But suppose a whole tribe of Indians attack us?"

"Not likely, Nat. These people are few and greatly scattered; but if we are attacked we shall have to give the poor wretches a scaring with a few charges of shot—I mean distant charges, scattered, not fired at close quarters like yours."

The day passed slowly by, with my three companions working away to strengthen our little camp, and the wounded Indian sleeping. I, too, dropped off for an hour during the great heat of the late afternoon, and awoke feeling feverish and strange. But Pete was set to bathe my forehead with water, and the rapid evaporation made my head comparatively cool and pleasant, so much so that my uncle smiled.

"You're going on all right, Nat," he said, "and the wound will soon grow easier."

The sun had passed over to the west, and was behind the cliff, leaving us well in shelter; the sound of the rushing water below sounded cool and pleasant, and I was lying back watching the wounded Indian—Carib, my uncle called him—when all at once there came a low howl from the thicket on the other side of the river.

"What's that! One of the howling monkeys?" I said to uncle.

"No," he said softly, and I saw him reach out his hand slowly for his gun. "Watch my patient."

I turned my eyes to where the man lay, and saw that he had raised his head, and was gazing keenly in the direction whence the cry had come.

The next minute the howl was repeated, and it had hardly died out when it arose again, but this time from our prisoner, who placed his hands to his lips and sent forth a mournful cry.

Then it was answered from the other side, and the Carib turned excitedly to us, talking rapidly, but without our being able to comprehend a word.

One thing, though, was evident—the poor fellow was highly excited, and he smiled and chattered at us, before repeating the cry, which was again answered, and then a kind of duet was kept up, with the distance and time between the calls growing shorter minute by minute.

"This is all very well," said Cross softly, "but he's bringing on his Injun mates. You'll tell us when to fire, sir?"

"Yes, if there is any need," said my uncle. "Be ready; that is all."

Our prisoner watched us excitedly, and evidently grasped what was meant, for he began to talk to us eagerly, and then pointed downward again and again.

He was in the midst of an eager explanation to us when there was a rustling in the bushes below, and a dusky figure came up, caught sight of us behind the barricade, and stopped short. But our prisoner uttered a call, and the dark, pleasant-faced figure came on fearlessly, found the opening we had left, and the next moment was down upon her knees wailing softly and passing her hands over the bandages, ending by laying her face against our prisoner's breast, and beginning to sob.

"Nothing to fear from her," said my uncle. "It's the poor fellow's wife."

Meanwhile the Carib was evidently explaining his position to the woman, and she turned to us, smiling, evidently ready to be the best of friends, while her manners showed that she meant to stay and nurse her wounded husband, whom she had traced to where he lay.

"Better be friends than enemies, Nat," said my uncle. "But one of us must keep watch to-night."



CHAPTER THIRTEEN.

SUCCESS AT LAST.

Watch was kept that night and several more, while the days were passed suspiciously and uneasily. But we saw no sign of more Indians, those who shared our camp seeming quite at home, and proving to be gentle, inoffensive creatures, now that they were satisfied that we intended to do them no harm.

The woman began at once to see to the fire, and fetch water from the river, and only once showed any sign of resentment. That was on the morning following her coming, when my uncle began to unfasten his patient's bandages after dressing my arm.

This she tried to stop by seizing my uncle's hand, but at a word from her husband she sat down and watched the whole process. After that the morning performance of the surgical duties was looked for with the greatest interest, the woman fetching water and waiting upon my uncle during his attention to both his patients.

The days passed on, with my wound troubling me but very little. The prisoner's was far worse, but he did not seem to suffer, settling down quite happily in a dreamy way, and as no danger came near, the shooting and collecting went on, my uncle going alone, and leaving Pete and Cross to protect me and the camp.

Fortunately we had a sufficiency of stores, my uncle shot for provisions as well as science; I helped by sitting down in one particular spot by the rushing stream and catching fish almost as fast as I could throw in, and Mapah, as the woman's name seemed to be, went off every morning and returned loaded with wild fruit and certain roots, which she and her husband ate eagerly.

Some very good specimens were brought in by my uncle, and the two Indians sat watching us curiously as we busily skinned them, filled them out, and laid them to dry, Mapah eagerly taking possession of the tail-feathers of some parrots intended to be cooked for the evening's meal, and weaving them into a band of plaited grass so as to form tiaras of the bright-hued plumes for herself and her husband, both wearing them with no little show of pride.

"And only to think of it, Master Nat," said Pete. "Reg'larly cheated me when I see 'em first over the bushes; I made sure they was birds."

They expressed a good deal of pleasure, too, over some of the brighter birds brought in, and our prisoner talked and made signs to me and pointed in one direction as he tried hard to make me understand something one day; but I was alone with him, and very dense for a time, as in a crippled way I put the finishing touches to the skin of a brilliant kingfisher.

Then all at once I grasped his meaning.

"Why, of course!" I cried. "How thick-headed of me!"

I went to the bamboo half-box, half-basket Cross had made, and brought it back to where the Indian was sitting nursing his wounded leg, took off the lid, and carefully withdrew the trogon.

"Is that the sort of bird you mean?" I said.

"Hah!" he said, in a long-drawn cry, full of the satisfaction he felt, and both he and his wife chattered to me eagerly, Mapah shaking her head, though, and pointing at the bird's tail with one dusky hand, before holding both out before me a yard apart.

"You've seen them with tails as long as that?" I said, placing my hand by the caudal feathers of our one specimen, and then slowly drawing it away till it was some distance off.

"Hah!" cried the Indian again, and he laughed and chatted, and pointed across the river to the south, while his wife took off her feather crown, held it before me, and drew each long feather through her hand as if stretching it to three feet in length, and then touched the golden-green plumage of our solitary specimen.

The trogon was carefully put away, the kingfisher laid to dry, and then I could hardly contain myself till my uncle's return, well laden with ducks and a dusky bird that was evidently a half-grown turkey.

"Tired out, Nat," he said, throwing down the birds, for Mapah and her husband to seize and begin to pluck for our evening meal. "We must make a fresh start."

"Why?" I said quietly.

"Because we have shot the only trogon in the district, and we are wasting time here."

"Nonsense," I said; "there are plenty more."

"If we could find them," he replied wearily.

I had intended to keep him waiting longer, but I could not hold back what I felt certain I had discovered, and hurrying to the case I brought out the precious specimen and made Mapah and her husband go through the whole pantomime again.

"Why, Nat," cried my uncle excitedly, while Pete and Cross looked on, "it's as plain as a pikestaff: these people are quite familiar with the long-tailed species—resplendens—and they could take us to places where they could be found."

"That's it, uncle," I cried, and Pete and Cross joined in a hearty cheer.

"Oh, but to think of it—the misery and disappointment," cried my uncle: "that poor fellow will not be able to walk and act as guide for a month, and it may be a hundred miles away."

"That don't matter, sir," cried Pete; "he's only a little chap. Me and Bill Cross'll take it in turns pig-a-backing him; won't we mate?"

"We will that, Pete, lad," cried the carpenter, and somehow that seemed to be the brightest evening of our expedition, even the two Indians seeming to share our satisfaction, for they readily grasped the idea that they had afforded us pleasure by promising in their fashion to show us the objects of our weary search.

As we lay down to sleep that night I felt more wakeful than ever I had been before, and I could hear my uncle turning restlessly about.

All at once he broke the silence by whispering,—

"Asleep, Nat?"

"Asleep? No; I've got quetzal on the brain, and the birds seem to be pecking at my shoulder on both sides with red-hot beaks. How do you feel?"

"In agony, my boy. I'm afraid we have been jumping at conclusions. Perhaps the Indians do not understand, after all."

Sleep came at last, though, and the next day nothing else could be thought of or talked of. The Indians were questioned in dumb show, with the skin of the trogon for a text, and we got on more, Uncle Dick's spirits rising as it grew more plainly that the Indian fully understood about the birds we wanted. In fact, in dumb show he at last began to teach us the bird's habits.

He showed us how it sat upon the branch of a tree, taking a parroquet as an example, pointing out that the bird we meant had toes like it, two before and two behind, setting it on a piece of wood, and then ruffling its plumage all up till it looked like a ball of feathers.

"That's right, Nat," cried my uncle. "Exactly how trogons sit. The fellow's a born observer. I am glad you shot him. Go on, Dusky."

The man understood, as he sat holding the piece of branch in one hand, the bird in the other. He glanced at us to see if we were watching him, and then smoothing the feathers quickly, he began to buzz and whirr like a beetle, as cleverly as a ventriloquist. Next he made the dead bird he held dart from its perch, and imitated the quick flight of one chasing a large beetle through the air, catching it, and returning to its perch, where with wonderful accuracy he went through the movements of it swallowing its prey, and then ruffling itself up again into a ball of feathers.

"Splendid!" cried my uncle. "Exact. He knows the right birds, Nat. Now then, Cuvier, where is the happy spot? Over yonder?" and my uncle pointed up the river; but the Indian shook his head, and pointed across and away to the south, after which he laid his head upon his hand and imitated going to sleep eight times.

"Eight days' journey to the south, Nat," said Uncle Dick. "A long way to carry him. I understand," he said, turning to the Indian again, shouldering his gun, bending down, and making believe to walk; but his patient shook his head violently, took hold of his piece of wood, and went through the motion of paddling.

"Hah!" I cried, imitating him. "He means we should have to go in a canoe, uncle."

"That's it," he cried, and he pointed down at the river; but the man shook his head again, and pointed right across into the distance.

"Nat," said my uncle, "we shall do it yet. It must be on that river we passed before we turned up this. We shall have to get him down to the boat."

I wish I could write—No sooner said than done; but it was not so; for our future guide was not yet fit to start on such a journey. He was getting better fast, but not fast enough, and in spite of my assertions, I was not recovered from a very bad wound. In short, it seemed that the only thing to do, as we appeared to have nothing more to fear from Indians with two such guards in camp, was to send down to the boat for more of the stores, that is, enough for another fortnight's stay, when the difficulty was solved by Cross one morning.

"I've been turning it over in my mind, Master Nat, about carrying that chap down to the boat, but the doctor says it would open his wound again and throw him back, so that won't do."

"No; certainly not," I said.

"Then I got a notion that I could knock up a sort of chair he could sit in, and me and Pete and Mrs Mapah could carry it strapped on our backs in turn."

"Nonsense! That little woman could not carry her husband."

"What, sir!" cried Cross laughing. "Don't you make a mistake, sir; she's as strong as a pony. But the doctor says it would shake him too much, so what do you say to this? S'pose I build a raft, and we go back the same as we come?"

"Through the dark cavern?"

"I don't know no laws again' our burning a good light, sir."

"But how are you going to get it down the falls?"

"In bits, sir," he said, laughing. "I should build it down yonder on the side at the bottom of the falls. Then we could swing old Dusky down with the rope, and all we should want would be a couple of bamboo poles, and there we are."

The notion seemed wild at first, but Cross soon showed Uncle Dick and me that it was quite possible; and in the course of the next fortnight he proved it by means of his axe, making the raft out of the bamboos that he cut and which we sent down to him over the falls, some to be broken in the descent, but the most part to reach him safe and sound.

As the work went on Mapah helped, being wonderfully active and sure-footed on the rocks; and through her our prisoner grasped the meaning of what was going on, nodding and smiling when the time came for our start, and to my great satisfaction showing not the slightest shrinking from venturing into the cavern after being carefully lowered down.

For at last all was ready, and with a good supply of resinous boughs cut into lengths for torches, we lit up and embarked upon our return journey, to find that what had looked so terrible through the darkness of ignorance was a perfectly trivial affair. It was through resounding cavern and winding tunnel, shrouded in gloom, but utterly wanting in terrors and difficulties, being merely the gliding down a subterranean stream out into broad daylight at the other end.

Here our raft served to carry us over the shallows right down to our boat, at which our prisoner gazed in wonder—wonder which was increased when we set sail and glided towards the mouth of the little river we had passed on our way up.

It soon became evident that in his wanderings our Indian had been over the ground before. This was proved by his manner towards his wife, to whom he talked eagerly, pointing out different objects, rocky cliff, forest and mountain, as if they were familiar objects.

But the great proof of all was his behaviour a couple of days later, when we felt that the mouth of the southern river must be near, for he was all excitement till it was in sight, when he began shouting to us and pointing, indicating that we should steer the boat into the mouth of the very river as I suggested weeks before, and take a fresh course.

"Hah!" exclaimed my uncle; "you were right, Nat, after all. I fancied he meant this."

Fortunately for us, the narrowness and the way in which the side stream was encumbered with overhanging growth, fallen log and tangle proved to be only at the very beginning; for at the end of a mile or two of difficulties which were very discouraging, while the stream narrowed so that it promised to close in overhead, its course became clearer and its waters deep and sluggish, so that we were able to camp at night some miles from the mouth.

The next day our guide showed us by signs that our oars were not proper implements for use in such a river, with the result that Cross set to work roughing out a paddle which our companions seized upon to finish off while another was made. Boards from the bottom and thwarts were cut up for the purpose, and before many hours had passed we were furnished with half-a-dozen fairly useful paddles, by whose aid, and all working together, the boat could be directed through the narrowest channels of verdure.

For the next six days we steadily advanced, through a wonderfully beautiful region, a very paradise for a naturalist, and where we might have collected gorgeously plumaged birds by the thousand and insects galore.

But we had our one aim in view, and though we seemed as far off as ever, and there were moments when Uncle Dick and I began to doubt, our guide seemed so confident, pointing always onward, that we grew hopeful again, and went on and on.

"Do you know what Bill Cross says, Master Nat?" said Pete, when we were camping one evening.

"How should I?" I replied pettishly, for I was weary of the continuous paddling.

"Then, I'll tell you, sir," said Pete solemnly, "He says he feels cock-sure that them two brown 'uns is taking us to where their tribe lives, so that they may grab the boat and guns and things, and then light a fire and have a feast."

"Eat us?" I said.

"That's it, sir; the doctor says they must be Caribs, and Caribs is cannibals, and we ought to go back."

"So we will, Pete," I said, "when we have found the quetzals."

It was the very next day that, after struggling a few more miles over shallows, the roar of water fell upon our ears, and the current gradually grew more swift, while that night with a good deal of pantomime our guide indicated that the boat could go no farther.

"As if we didn't know that, Master Nat," said Cross.

The consequence was that our craft was securely moored, the tent once more set up on shore, and after a good night's rest we started off to explore the open wooded country around the beautiful falls close at hand.

We left Cross in camp with the Indian, and his wife eagerly started with us as guide, leading us through lovely patches of forest and open glade till we were well above the falls, and where the little stream now glided slowly along.

"It looks as if we're to find the quetzal at last," said my uncle softly; "the woman seems so confident."

"I hope so," I said; "for if ever there was a beautiful home for a bird it ought to be here."

We had hardly spoken before Mapah, who was some distance ahead, stopped, held up her hand, and stole back, signing for us to take her place and go forward.

We cocked our guns and stepped cautiously on, to find ourselves at the edge of an opening where no less than five of the lovely birds we sought were perched, each on a dead bough, with plumage absolutely glittering in the sun-rays, which shot through, just as the flashing scale of the humming-bird sends forth its gleams of broken light.

Every now and then one darted out into the full sunshine in chase of butterfly or beetle, its loose tail-feathers spreading out comet-like and waving in the clear air.

The scene was so striking that for some time we stood bending forward watching the birds and their actions, every movement showing their glorious plumage in a fresh light, and but one feeling was upon us—that it was like sacrilege to destroy creatures so exquisitely perfect. At last, though, the naturalist and collector prevailed. We had come thousands of miles to secure specimens of these birds for English museums, and have them we must.

I started as from a dream on seeing my uncle move.

"Going to fire, uncle?" I said.

"Yes, Nat," he replied, with something like a sigh; "we must have a few to take back."

He raised his gun, but lowered it again, and looked at me, while I looked at him.

"Was it all a dream?" he said hoarsely.

"Surely not, uncle," I cried, as I stared about the opening, where not a bird was to be seen.

But we had proof directly that it was no dream, for Pete, who was holding the spare guns, cried excitedly:

"Oh, I say! You've let 'em go!"

In the days which followed we were less sentimental, getting, in the neighbourhood of where we had seen them first, specimen after specimen in the most perfect plumage, till we felt that it would be like a crime to shoot down more.

"Let's get away from the temptation, Nat," said my uncle, and the very next day we started back, intent now on the one thought of getting our treasures safely home.

We parted from our Indian companions a fortnight later, sending them ashore with our guide's wound so nearly cured that he could limp about easily. They were laden with presents—Uncle Dick's patient proud of the grandest prize he evidently thought a man could possess, to wit, the carpenter's axe; and his wife rejoicing in a leather housewife of needles and thread, a pair of good useful scissors, and my old silver watch, hung by its chain round her tawny neck—her great joy being in a child-like way to hold it to her ear after winding up to listen to its ticking.

Bill Cross made a set of new cases when he reached Port Royal for the careful packing of the skins in our glorious collection, and he and Pete parted from us with every sign of regret.

"I thought my tools might come in useful, gentlemen," he said, smiling.

"I don't know what we should have done without you, Cross," said my uncle.

Pete's forehead wrinkled up, and he looked at me wistfully.

"I don't know which was the more useful, Cross," I said, "you or Pete."

"Wish you a safe journey home to the old country, gentlemen," said Pete, smiling; "and, if ever you're going collecting again and'll take me, why, I'd come from anywheres the wide world round."

But they did not say good-bye when the vessel in which we had taken our passage sailed, for the captain was short of hands and gladly took them on, so that it was at Liverpool we finally parted, for we had what they wished us, a safe journey home.

"You will take me if you go again, Master Nat?" cried Pete, when we shook hands.

"Yes, Pete," I said; "I promise you I will."

THE END.