ou and him too. But maybe
the boy would be afraid."

"That I shouldn't!" cried Rodd hotly.

"Oh! Then you could come," said the Spaniard. "But you'd be in the way
if you were afraid. Think about it. Good-night."

The doctor was ready to enter into conversation, and question him; but
the boat went off back at once, leaving Uncle Paul mentally troubled,
for the idea of an excursion into the depths of the forest wilds was
exciting in the extreme.

"He needn't have been in such a hurry, Pickle," said the doctor. "I
should have liked to have questioned him a little."

"Yes, uncle. I should like to hear about such things; but it was like
his impudence to say that I should be afraid!"

"Yes, my boy; it was rude," replied the doctor thoughtfully, "Ah! It's
such a chance as might never occur again. A guide like that isn't
always to be picked up."

"No, uncle," replied the boy; "and it must be very wonderful in the
depths of the forest, where you can get through, because you would be
able to row."

"Yes, my boy; wonderfully interesting," said the doctor eagerly.

"But we couldn't go, uncle."

"Why, Pickle? Why?"

"Because we couldn't go away and leave the brig like that."

"No; of course not, my boy. It would be too bad, wouldn't it? And of
course we couldn't go and trust ourselves to a pack of strangers, eh?"

"We shouldn't be afraid, should we, uncle?"

"Well, no, my boy; no. But I don't think it would be prudent. But
there, there, we mustn't think of it. We can't do everything we like."

CHAPTER FORTY.

THE DOCTOR'S CHARGE.

It was very tempting, and, like most lovers of natural history, the
deeper he plunged into his pursuit, with its wonders upon wonders, the
more infatuated Uncle Paul grew. The nephew was quite as bad, though,
boy-like, his was more the natural love of novelty than that of science.

Who among you is there who has not revelled in the thought of something
new, the eager desire to see something fresh? The country boy to see
vast London with all its greatness and littleness, its splendour and its
squalor, its many cares and too often false joys--the town boy to plunge
into that home of mystery and wonder, the country. And though as a rule
the country boy is disappointed, he of the town, when once he has tasted
the true joys of the country and seen Nature at her best, is never
satiated. But that love of the novel and the fresh is in us all--the
desire for that which