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.
Harbert clapped his hands. It was the first time he had seen birds taken with a line, but the sailor very modestly told him that it was not his first try and not his invention.
“And in any case,” he added, “in our situation, we must depend on measures such as these.”
The grouse were tied by their feet and Pencroff, happy that he was not returning with empty hands and seeing that the daylight was beginning to lessen, decided to return home.
The path to follow was clearly indicated by the river; there was no question about which direction to go. At about six o’clock, rather tired from their excursion, Harbert and Pencroff again entered the Chimneys.
*Celebrated author of a book on angling.4
CHAPTER VII
Gideon Spilett, motionless, his arms crossed, was on the beach looking at the sea whose horizon was obscured in the east by a large black cloud that was rapidly moving towards the zenith. The wind was already strong and becoming fresher with the decline of day. The sky looked bad and the first symptoms of a storm were apparent.
Harbert entered the Chimneys, and Pencroff went to the reporter. The latter, deeply absorbed, did not see him come.
“We’re going to have a bad night, Mr. Spilett!” said the sailor. “Rain and wind are the joy of petrels.”*
The reporter, then turning, saw Pencroff and his first words were these:
“At what distance from the coast would you say the basket was when it was struck by the wave which carried off our companion?”
The sailor had not expected this question. He reflected for a moment and replied:
“At two cables length at most.”
“But what is a cable length?”
“About 120 fathoms or 600 feet.”
“Then,” said the reporter, “Cyrus Smith disappeared 1200 feet at most from the shore?”
“About,” replied Pencroff.
“And his dog also?”
“Also.”
“What astonishes me,” added the reporter, “is that our companion has perished, and Top has likewise met his end, but neither the body of the dog nor that of his master has been thrown on shore.”
“It isn’t astonishing with such a strong sea,” replied the sailor. “Besides, it’s possible that the current carried them further along the coast.”
“So it’s your opinion that our companion has perished among the waves?” the reporter asked again.
“That’s my opinion.”
“My
