ptain Bradleigh
prophesied."

"What's that?" said the captain sharply.

"I don't think there is any question about it. She might have drifted a
little way, but that is doubtful, for one end was well aground. We must
have had visitors while we were away. I thought they would not give up
that canoe without a struggle."

"Yes," said the captain, "they must have been. That canoe was too
valuable to be lost. I said so."

"Then they may come again at any moment?" said Sir John.

"Yes, sir," replied the captain; "and they must find us well prepared."

"Mr Jack, sir," whispered Ned at the first chance, "we're going to have
some fighting after all."

CHAPTER TWENTY FIVE.

"A WAS AN ARCHER, WHO SHOT--"

No more was seen of the blacks, while a fortnight passed; and encouraged
by the utter solitude of the place, the well-armed parties which left
the yacht made longer and longer excursions, coming home with an
abundance of specimens to preserve. The sailors took to the task with
the greatest of gusto, and evidently thoroughly enjoyed the hunt for
rare birds and butterflies, of which there proved to be an abundance.
One day Jack would be helping his father collect the wonderfully painted
insects which hovered or darted about in the sunny glades or in the
moist shady openings over the streams, where they hung over the lovely
blossoms of the orchids. At another time the doctor would claim his
attention, and shouldering one gun, while Edward carried another and the
cartridges, long tramps were taken over the mountain slopes and at the
edge of the forest, to penetrate which, save in rare places, was
impossible. Their sport was plentiful enough, for the birds were fresh
to the gun, and when startled their flight was short, and they alighted
again within reach. They were all new to the boy, who seemed never
weary of examining the lovely plumage of the prizes, which one or other
of the sailors carried afterwards, slung by their beaks from a stick, so
that the feathers should not be damaged. Now it was a green paroquet,
with long slender tail and head of the most delicate peach-colour or of
a brilliant orange yellow. At another time, after a careful stalk, one
or other of the pittas, the exquisitely-coloured ground thrushes, in
their uniforms of pale fawn and blue, turquoise, sapphire, and amethyst.
And perhaps the next shot would be at one of the soft feathery trogons,
cuckoo-like birds in their habits, but instead