VERNANIA: The Celebrated Works of Jules Verne in One Edition. Жюль Верн
Чтение книги онлайн.
Читать онлайн книгу VERNANIA: The Celebrated Works of Jules Verne in One Edition - Жюль Верн страница 269
“And now what are we going to do?” said Glenarvan.
“Make our nest, of course!” replied Paganel
“Make our nest!” exclaimed Robert.
“Certainly, my boy, and live the life of birds, since we can’t that of fishes.”
“All very well, but who will fill our bills for us?” said Glenarvan.
“I will,” said the Major.
All eyes turned toward him immediately, and there he sat in a natural armchair, formed of two elastic boughs, holding out his ALFORJAS damp, but still intact.
“Oh, McNabbs, that’s just like you,” exclaimed Glenarvan, “you think of everything even under circumstances which would drive all out of your head.”
“Since it was settled we were not going to be drowned, I had no intention of starving of hunger.”
“I should have thought of it, too,” said Paganel, “but I am so DISTRAIT.”
“And what is in the ALFORJAS?” asked Tom Austin.
“Food enough to last seven men for two days,” replied McNabbs.
“And I hope the inundation will have gone down in twenty-four hours,” said Glenarvan.
“Or that we shall have found some way of regaining terra firma,” added Paganel.
“Our first business, then, now is to breakfast,” said Glenarvan.
“I suppose you mean after we have made ourselves dry,” observed the Major.
“And where’s the fire?” asked Wilson.
“We must make it,” returned Paganel.
“Where?”
“On the top of the trunk, of course.”
“And what with?”
“With the dead wood we cut off the tree.”
“But how will you kindle it?” asked Glenarvan. “Our tinder is just like wet sponge.”
“We can dispense with it,” replied Paganel. “We only want a little dry moss and a ray of sunshine, and the lens of my telescope, and you’ll see what a fire I’ll get to dry myself by. Who will go and cut wood in the forest?”
“I will,” said Robert.
And off he scampered like a young cat into the depths of the foliage, followed by his friend Wilson. Paganel set to work to find dry moss, and had soon gathered sufficient. This he laid on a bed of damp leaves, just where the large branches began to fork out, forming a natural hearth, where there was little fear of conflagration.
Robert and Wilson speedily reappeared, each with an armful of dry wood, which they threw on the moss. By the help of the lens it was easily kindled, for the sun was blazing overhead. In order to ensure a proper draught, Paganel stood over the hearth with his long legs straddled out in the Arab manner. Then stooping down and raising himself with a rapid motion, he made a violent current of air with his poncho, which made the wood take fire, and soon a bright flame roared in the improvised brasier. After drying themselves, each in his own fashion, and hanging their ponchos on the tree, where they were swung to and fro in the breeze, they breakfasted, carefully however rationing out the provisions, for the morrow had to be thought of; the immense basin might not empty so soon as Glenarvan expected, and, anyway, the supply was very limited. The OMBU produced no fruit, though fortunately, it would likely abound in fresh eggs, thanks to the numerous nests stowed away among the leaves, not to speak of their feathered proprietors. These resources were by no means to be despised.
The next business was to install themselves as comfortably as they could, in prospect of a long stay.
“As the kitchen and diningroom are on the ground floor,” said Paganel, “we must sleep on the first floor. The house is large, and as the rent is not dear, we must not cramp ourselves for room. I can see up yonder natural cradles, in which once safely tucked up we shall sleep as if we were in the best beds in the world. We have nothing to fear. Besides, we will watch, and we are numerous enough to repulse a fleet of Indians and other wild animals.”
“We only want firearms.”
“I have my revolvers,” said Glenarvan.
“And I have mine,” replied Robert.
“But what’s the good of them?” said Tom Austin, “unless Monsieur Paganel can find out some way of making powder.”
“We don’t need it,” replied McNabbs, exhibiting a powder flask in a perfect state of preservation.
“Where did you get it from, Major,” asked Paganel.
“From Thalcave. He thought it might be useful to us, and gave it to me before he plunged into the water to save Thaouka.”
“Generous, brave Indian!” exclaimed Glenarvan.
“Yes,” replied Tom Austin, “if all the Patagonians are cut after the same pattern, I must compliment Patagonia.”
“I protest against leaving out the horse,” said Paganel. “He is part and parcel of the Patagonian, and I’m much mistaken if we don’t see them again, the one on the other’s back.”
“What distance are we from the Atlantic?” asked the Major.
“About forty miles at the outside,” replied Paganel; “and now, friends, since this is Liberty Hall, I beg to take leave of you. I am going to choose an observatory for myself up there, and by the help of my telescope, let you know how things are going on in the world.”
Forthwith the geographer set off, hoisting himself up very cleverly from bough to bough, till he disappeared beyond the thick foliage. His companions began to arrange the night quarters, and prepare their beds. But this was neither a long nor difficult task, and very soon they resumed their seats round the fire to have a talk.
As usual their theme was Captain Grant. In three days, should the water subside, they would be on board the DUNCAN once more. But Harry Grant and his two sailors, those poor shipwrecked fellows, would not be with them. Indeed, it even seemed after this ill success and this useless journey across America, that all chance of finding them was gone forever. Where could they commence a fresh quest? What grief Lady Helena and Mary Grant would feel on hearing there was no further hope.
“Poor sister!” said Robert. “It is all up with us.”
For the first time Glenarvan could not find any comfort to give him. What could he say to the lad?
Had