The Mysterious Island. Jules Verne

sizes, formed a curtain which obstructed their vision. On the right bank, walking would have been difficult because of the holes in the ground and because of the trees which, bent to the surface of the water, were held in place only by their roots. Needless to say, both this forest and the riverbank showed no sign of human life. Pencroff noted the fresh tracks of quadrupeds of a species he did not recognize. Most certainly—and this was also Harbert’s opinion—they had been left by dangerous wild beasts with which they would no doubt have to contend; but nowhere was found the mark of a hatchet on a tree trunk, nor the remains of an extinguished fire, nor a footprint. They should perhaps congratulate themselves because, in this part of the Pacific, the presence of man was often more to be feared than desired.

       Pencroff noted the fresh animal tracks.

      Harbert and Pencroff scarcely spoke because of the difficult path. They advanced slowly and, after an hour, they had scarcely gone a mile. Until then, the hunt had not been productive. Nevertheless, several birds were chirping and flying about under the branches, showing themselves to be very timid as if man instinctively inspired them with a justifiable fear. Among other winged creatures, Harbert saw, in a marshy part of the forest, a bird with a sharp and elongated beak which anatomically resembled a kingfisher. However it was distinguished by its rugged plumage coated with a metallic brilliance.

      “That must be a jacamar,”² said Harbert, trying to close in on the bird.

      “It would be nice to have the opportunity to taste jacamar,” replied the sailor, “if this bird is in a mood to let himself be roasted!”

      At this moment, the lad, skillfully and vigorously, threw a stone that struck the creature at the base of its wing. But it was not enough; the jacamar took to its legs, running away at full speed and disappearing in an instant. “I’m so clumsy,” Harbert shouted.

      “Not at all, my boy,” replied the sailor. “It was a good throw and more than one person would have missed the bird completely. Come! Don’t feel frustrated. We’ll catch it another day.”

      The exploration continued. As the hunters made headway, the trees became more spacious and magnificent. But none produced any edible fruit. Pencroff looked in vain for a few of those precious palm trees, which have so many uses in domestic life and which are found as far as the 40th parallel in the northern hemisphere and down to the 35th parallel in the southern hemisphere. But this forest revealed only conifers such as the deodars already recognized by Harbert, Douglas pines resembling those growing on the northwest coast of America, and admirable spruce measuring a hundred fifty feet in height.

      At this instant, a flock of small birds with pretty plumage and long, glittering tails scattered among the branches, dropping their weakly attached feathers which covered the ground with a fine down. Harbert picked up a few of these feathers and, after having examined them:

      “These are ‘couroucous’,”³ he said.

      “I would prefer a guinea fowl or a grouse cock,” replied Pencroff, “but are they good to eat?”

      “They’re good to eat and their flesh is even tender,” replied Harbert. “Besides, if I am not mistaken, it is easy to approach them and kill them with a stick.”

      The sailor and the boy slipped through the grass and arrived at the foot of a tree whose lower branches were covered with small birds. The couroucous were waiting for passing insects, which served as their nourishment. One could see their feathered feet strongly clenching the small branches which supported them.

      The hunters then straightened up and, using their sticks like a scythe, they mowed down entire rows of these couroucous who did not think of flying away and stupidly allowed themselves to be beaten. A hundred littered the ground before the others decided to fly away.

      “Well,” said Pencroff, “here’s game made for hunters such as ourselves. We’ve only to reach out for it.”

      On a flexible stick the sailor strung up the couroucous like larks, and the exploration continued. They could see that the river took a gentle turn southward, but this detour probably did not extend very far because the river’s source was in the mountain and was fed by the melting snow covering the sides of the central peak.

      The principal object of this excursion was to get the largest possible quantity of game. This goal had not been attained up to now. The sailor actively pursued his search, and how he complained when some animal that he did not even have time to recognize escaped among the tall grass. If only they had had the dog Top. But Top had disappeared at the same time as his master and had probably perished with him.

      About three o’clock in the afternoon, they caught a glimpse of new flocks of birds who were pecking at the aromatic berries of certain trees, junipers among others. Suddenly, a trumpet-like sound resounded throughout the forest. It was the strange and loud fanfare made by gallinules, which are called “grouse” in the United States. Soon they saw several couples, with a variety of brown and fawn colored plumage, and with a brown tail. Harbert recognized the males by the two pointed fins formed by feathers raised on their neck. Pencroff judged it indispensable to get hold of one of these gallinules, as big as a hen, whose flesh is like that of a prairie chicken. But this was difficult because they would not allow themselves to be approached. After several fruitless attempts, which only seemed to frighten the grouse, the sailor said to the lad:

      “Well, since we can’t kill them in flight, we’ll try to take them with a line.”

      “Like a fish?” shouted Harbert, very surprised at this suggestion.

      “Like a fish,” the sailor replied seriously.

Pencroff found a half dozen grouses’ nests in the grass, each having two or three eggs. He took care not to touch these nests, knowing their proprietors would surely return. It was around these nests that he intended to stretch his lines—not collar traps but real hook lines. He took Harbert some distance away from the nests, and there he prepared his strange contraption with the care appropriate to a disciple of Isaac Walton.* Harbert watched this activity with understandable interest, though he doubted the probability of its success. The lines were made of thin creepers fastened to one another at a length of fifteen to twenty feet. Some large strong thorns with bent points, supplied by a dwarf acacia bush, were tied to the ends of the creepers to take the place of hooks. As for bait, some large red worms, which were crawling on the ground, were put on the thorns.

      That done, Pencroff moved among the grass skillfully concealing himself, and placed the end of his lines with baited hooks near the grouses’ nests. Then he took the other end and hid with Harbert behind a large tree. Both then waited patiently. Harbert did not count on the success of inventor Pencroff.

      A long half hour passed but, as predicted by the sailor, several pairs of grouse returned to their nests. They hopped, pecked the ground, and gave no sign that they suspected the presence of the hunters who had taken care to place themselves to the leeward of the gallinules.

      Certainly at this moment the lad was very attentive. He held his breath. Pencroff was staring, his mouth open, his lips protruding as if he was about to taste a piece of grouse, hardly breathing. However the gallinules walked among the hooks without noticing them. Pencroff made small jerks which moved the bait as if the worms were still alive.

      At this instant, the sailor no doubt felt as much emotion as a fisherman who, in contrast, does not see his prey approaching in the water.

      The jerks soon attracted the attention of the gallinules, and they pecked at the hooks. Three of the grouse swallowed both bait and hook. Suddenly, Pencroff sprung his trap, and flapping wings showed that the birds had been taken.

       “Hurrah!”

      “Hurrah!” he shouted, dashing toward the game which he now mastered.