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Mass' George: A Boy's Adventures in the Old Savannah, a novel by George Manville Fenn |
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Chapter 24 |
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_ CHAPTER TWENTY FOUR. "No, no, Pomp," I said, after a time, during which we had been thoroughly enjoying our food, "you've had quite enough. We shall want to make this last till night." "Mass' George no want to finish um all up?" "No." "So not hav' to carry walletum." "Of course not. We shall soon be hungry again." "Catch fis; shoot de duck; Pomp fine plenty 'tick; and make a fire." "I wish you'd find the boat," I said, packing up the remains of the meal the while. "Think it's any use to go any farther?" "Yes; go right on, Mass' George; plenty time." "Yes, we'll go on," I said, for I felt refreshed and rested, and as if I should like to go journeying on for days--the beauty of the river and the various things we saw exciting a desire to continue our trip. "I don't suppose any one ever came here before, but we mustn't lose our way." "Couldn't lose way, Mass' George. Ony got to keep by ribber, and he show de way back." "Of course," I said; "I forgot that." "No walk back." "I hope not," I said. "We are going to find the boat." Pomp made a grimace and looked round, as if to say, "Not likely." "No find a boat, put lot ob 'tick togedder and float down de ribber home." "Ah, well, we'll see," I said; and we continued our journey for hour after hour, always finding some fresh beauty to entice me, or living object for Pomp to stalk and beg me to shoot. But though we looked here and there as well as we could, there was no sign of the object of our search; in fact, I soon began to feel that I had embarked upon an enterprise that was almost an impossibility. The river had now grown a little swifter, and though there was plenty of swampy land down by its banks, it seemed as if we were getting into a more elevated region, the margin being higher, and here and there quite precipitous, but it was always more beautiful, and the objects of natural history grew frequent every hour. Now it was a squirrel, of which there seemed to be great numbers; then all at once, as we were threading our way through the low bushes, something sprang up from its lair and went bounding off among the trees, giving me just a glimpse of a pretty head with large eyes and small horns, before it was gone. "Oh, Mass' George, you ought shoot dat," said Pomp, reproachfully. "Dat berry good to eat." "If I had been on the look-out, I could not have hit it," I said. "But I say, Pomp," I continued, looking round as we came upon a high sandy bluff through which the river had cut its way, and whose dry, sun-bathed sides offered a pleasant resting-place, "aren't you tired?" "No," said the boy, thoughtfully, "Pomp not bit tired, only one leg." "Well, are you hungry then?" "Dreffle, Mass' George. You like emp de walletum now?" "Yes, we'll sit down and have a good meal, and then we shall have to make haste back." "Top lil bit, Mass' George," said the boy, cautiously. "Oh no, there are no pins and forns there to 'tick in us," I said. "No, Mass' George, but dat sort o' place for rattle tailum 'nake. I go look fust." I felt a shudder run through me at the mention of the noxious creature, and brought the gun to bear as we advanced. "No; no shoot," whispered the boy. "Big 'tick bess for 'nake." We advanced very cautiously, with our eyes searching the ground, but there was nothing in sight, and after selecting a comfortable place where the sand had slowly been washed down from the bluff till it lay thick and dry as when it is drifted on the seashore, we sat down, the fine grains feeling delightful to our limbs, and made a hearty meal of the remains left in the wallet. It was wonderfully still there, the trees being quite motionless, and the only sounds heard being the hum of some insect and the ripple of the water a dozen yards away. High above us through the thin tracery of an overhanging tree the sky looked of a brilliant blue, and away to left and right extended the forest. Pomp was lying face downwards, lazily scooping a hole in the sand, and watching it trickle back as fast as he scraped it away, just as if it were so much dry water in grains. I was lying on my back where the sand sloped up to the bank; and as I gazed at the trees, half expecting to see our boat sticking somewhere up among the branches, it seemed to me as if I had never felt so happy and contented before. Perhaps it was the soft, clear atmosphere, or the fact that I was resting, or that I had just partaken of a pleasant meal. I don't know. All I can say is that everything felt peaceful and restful; even Pomp, who as a rule was like a piece of spring in motion. There was a lovely pale blue haze in the distance, and a warm golden glow nearer at hand; the sun was getting well to the west; and I knew that we must soon start and walk fast, so as to get back, but I did not feel disposed to move for a few minutes. We should be able to walk so much better after a rest, I thought, and we should not stop to look for the boat, or at anything, but keep steadily walking on, so that it would not take us a quarter of the time; and if night did come on, the moon would rise early, and we could easily get to the house. How deliriously faint and blue that looked right away there in the distance, and how still it all was! Even Pomp enjoyed the silence, and I would not disturb him yet, but let him rest too. No fear of any snakes coming if we were there, and in a few minutes I'd jump up, tell Pomp, and we'd go and have a delicious bathe, and dry ourselves in the warm sand; that would make us walk splendidly. But I would not wake him yet--not just yet--I'd wake him presently, for he was so still that he must have gone to sleep. There he lay with his face to the sand, and his fingers half buried in the hole he had been scraping. "What a fellow he is to snooze!" I thought to myself. "Lucky I'm not so ready to go to sleep. How--how long shall I wait before I wake him?--How long--how long--how--" _ |
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