Part 9 (1/2)
”Well, you said we had nothing for arrow points--”
”Good boy! We'll cinch them, and ask questions later.”
A few blows with the club loosened the tusks. Blake handed them over to Winthrope, together with the whiskey flask, and led the way to the half-broken path through the thicket. A free use of his club made the path a little more worthy of the name, and as there was less need of haste than on the previous evening, Winthrope and Miss Leslie came through with only a few fresh scratches. Once on open ground again, they soon gained the fallen palms.
At a word from Blake, Miss Leslie hastened to fetch nuts for Winthrope to husk and open. Blake, who had plucked three leaves from a fan palm near the edge of the jungle, began to split long shreds from one of the huge leaves of a cocoanut palm. This gave him a quant.i.ty of coa.r.s.e, stiff fibre, part of which he twisted in a cord and used to tie one of the leaves of the fan palm over his head.
”How's that for a bonnet?” he demanded.
The improvised head-gear bore so grotesque a resemblance to a recent type of picture hat that Winthrope could not repress a derisive laugh. Miss Leslie, however, examined the hat and gave her opinion without a sign of amus.e.m.e.nt. ”I think it is splendid, Mr. Blake. If we must go out in the sun again, it is just the thing to protect one.”
”Yes. Here's two more I've fixed for you. Ready yet, Winthrope?”
The Englishman nodded, and the three sat down to their third feast of cocoanuts. They were hungry enough at the start, and Blake added no little keenness even to his own appet.i.te by a grim joke on the slender prospects of the next meal, to the effect that, if in the meantime not eaten themselves, they might possibly find their next meal within a week.
”But if we must move, could we not take some of the nuts with us?”
suggested Winthrope.
Blake pondered over this as he ate, and when, fully satisfied, he helped himself up with his club, he motioned the others to remain seated.
”There are your hats and the strings,” he said, ”but you won't need them now. I'm going to take a prospect along the river; and while I'm gone, you can make a try at stringing nuts on some of this leaf fibre.”
”But, Mr. Blake, do you think it's quite safe?” asked Miss Leslie, and she glanced from him to the jungle.
”Safe?” he repeated. ”Well, nothing ate you yesterday, if that's anything to go by. It's all I know about it.”
He did not wait for further protests. Swinging his club on his shoulder, he started for the break in the jungle which marked the hippopotamus path. The others looked at each other, and Miss Leslie sighed.
”If only he were a gentleman!” she complained.
Winthrope turned abruptly to the cocoanuts.
CHAPTER VII
AROUND THE HEADLAND
It was mid morning before Blake reappeared. He came from the mangrove swamp where it ran down into the sea. His trousers were smeared to the thigh with slimy mud; but as he approached, the drooping brim of his palm-leaf hat failed to hide his exultant expression.
”Come on!” he called. ”I've struck it. We'll be over in half an hour.”
”How's that?” asked Winthrope.
”Bar,” answered Blake, hurrying forward. ”Sling on your hats, and get into my coat again, Miss Jenny. The sun's hot as yesterday. How about the nuts?”
”Here they are. Three strings; all that I fancied we could carry,”
explained Winthrope.