“Arrows, bows!” said Pencroff with a condescending pout. “That’s all well and good for children!”
“Don’t be proud, friend Pencroff,” responded the reporter. “Bows and arrows sufficed for centuries to stain the earth with blood. Powder is only an invention of yesterday, but war is as old as the human race, unfortunately.”
“That’s very true, and you must excuse me, Mr. Spilett,” replied the sailor, “I always speak too hastily.”
Harbert however, engrossed in his favorite science of natural history, returned to the subject of the kangaroos by saying:
“Besides, we had an encounter there with a species that is difficult to capture. They were giant kangaroos with long grey fur, but if I am not mistaken, there also exist black and red kangaroos, rock kangaroos and rat kangaroos, which are much easier to catch. There are at least a dozen different species …”
“Harbert,” replied the sailor dogmatically, “for me there is only one species of kangaroo, the ‘kangaroo-on-the-spit,’ and that is precisely the one that we won’t be having this evening.”
They could not help laughing on hearing this new classification by Master Pencroff. The good sailor could not hide his regret at being reduced to a dinner of singing pheasants, but good fortune would once more accommodate him.
Top took a strong interest in the hunt, nosing about everywhere with an instinct increased by a ferocious appetite. It was even likely that, if he managed to catch some game, nothing would be left to the hunters because Top was now hunting for himself. Neb did well to watch him.
About three o’clock, the dog disappeared into the brushwood, and some muffled growlings soon indicated that he was fighting with some animal.
Neb dashed forward and, sure enough, he found Top greedily devouring a quadruped which, ten seconds later, would have been impossible to recognize. But, fortunately, the dog had fallen upon an entire brood. He had killed three, but two other rodents—the animals in question appeared to be of this order—were lying strangled on the ground.
Neb reappeared, triumphantly holding one of these rodents in each hand whose size exceeded that of a hare. Their yellow fur was mixed with greenish spots and their tail existed only as a rudimentary nub.
The citizens of the Union did not hesitate to give these rodents the name which befitted them. They were “maras,” a sort of agouti,4 a little larger than their cousins from the tropical countries, real American rabbits, with long ears and with five molars on each side of the jaws, which is the distinguishing characteristic of agoutis.
“Hurrah!” cried Pencroff. “The roast has arrived, and now we can go home!”
The march, momentarily interrupted, was resumed. The clear water of Red Creek rambled on under a canopy of casuarinas, banksias,5 and gigantic gum trees. Superb liliaceous6 plants grew to a height of twenty feet. Other species of trees, unknown to the young naturalist, leaned over the brook which they heard murmuring under these arches of foliage.
The watercourse was becoming noticeably wider, and Cyrus Smith was led to believe that they would soon reach its mouth. And, upon leaving a thick mass of beautiful trees, it suddenly appeared before them.
The explorers had arrived on the western shore of Lake Grant, an area worth examining. This expanse of water with a circumference of about seven miles and with an area of 250 acres was set within a border of various species of trees. Toward the east, the the sparkling horizon of the sea appeared. In the north, the lake traced a slightly concave curve which contrasted with the sharp outline of is lower point. Numerous aquatic birds frequented the banks of this small Ontario. The “Thousand Islands” of its American namesake were represented by a rock which emerged above the surface at several hundred feet from the southern bank. There, several pairs of kingfishers lived together, perched on a stone, solemn, motionless, on the lookout for passing fish, then, plunging into the water with a sharp cry, they would reappear with their prey in their beaks. Elsewhere on the banks and on the islet strutted wild ducks, pelicans, waterfowl, redbeaks, philedons with a tongue like a paintbrush, and one or two specimens of those splendid lyrebirds7 whose tail unfolds like the gracious motion of a harp.
As for the waters of the lake, they were sweet and clear. From the many concentric circles bubbling on its surface, they could not doubt but that it abounded in fish.
“This lake is truly beautiful,” said Gideon Spilett. “We could live on its shore.”
“We’ll live here!” replied Cyrus Smith.
The colonists, who wanted to return to the Chimneys by the shortest way, went toward the angle formed in the south by the junction of the banks of the lake. With some difficulty, they cut a path through the thickets and brushwood where the hand of man had never made its mark, and so they went toward the shore, arriving at the north of Grand View Plateau. They crossed two miles in this direction when, after a last screen of trees, the plateau appeared, covered with a thick turf, and beyond that, the infinite sea.
In order to return to the Chimneys, it would have been sufficient to cross the plateau for a distance of a mile and to descend to the bend formed by the first detour of the Mercy. But the engineer wanted to find out how and where the overflow of water escaped from the lake. The exploration was prolonged under the trees for a mile and a half toward the north. It was probable that an outlet existed which went through a breach in the granite. In sum, the lake was only an immense basin which the creek gradually replenished, and it could well be that the overflow escaped to the sea by some falls. If such was the case, the engineer thought that it might be possible to utilize this waterfall’s force, now without profit to anyone. They continued to follow the banks of Lake Grant along the plateau; but after going another mile in this direction, Cyrus Smith had not been able to discover the outlet.
It was then half past four. The preparations for dinner required that the colonists go back to their dwelling. The small troop then retraced its steps along the left bank of the Mercy, and Cyrus Smith and his companions finally arrived at the Chimneys.
There, the fire was lit, and Neb and Pencroff took on the duty of chefs, the one by virtue of being a Negro, the other by virtue of being a sailor. And they skillfully prepared a meal of grilled agoutis to which they all did justice.
The meal completed, the time came for everyone to get ready for bed. Cyrus Smith took some small samples of different minerals from his pocket and said briefly:
“My friends, here’s iron ore, pyrites, clay, lime and coal. This is what nature gives us as its contributions to our efforts. Tomorrow we’ll do our share.”
Grilled agouti.
*Name which Americans give to a small, unimportant watercourse.
CHAPTER XIII
“Well, Mr. Cyrus, where shall we begin?” Pencroff asked the engineer the next morning.
“At the beginning,” replied Cyrus Smith.
The colonists did indeed have to begin at the very beginning. They did not even possess the tools needed to make tools, and they did not find themselves in the position of Nature which, “having time, economizes on effort.” They had no time since they had to provide immediately for the needs of their very existence. And if, profiting from their acquired experience, they had nothing to invent, they nonetheless had everything to make. Their iron and steel was still only in the mineral state, their pottery was in the clay state, their linen and clothes were in the state of textile materials.
It must be said, however, that these colonists were “men” in the truest sense of the word. The engineer could not have been seconded by companions of more intelligence, devotion, or zeal. He had questioned them, and he knew their strengths.
Gideon