e landing-place.
But the sights around were so novel that I rather enjoyed our passage.
In spite of Tom's anxiety, every now and then I ceased paddling to gaze
at some bright-plumaged bird flitting from tree to tree overhanging the
stream. Once I made sure that the great bare vine which swung between
two boughs must be a serpent, till, passing by, we made out its real
character.

At last, though, I awoke to the fact that it was time to be up and
doing, for the current had swept us round a great bend of the river, and
below us I saw that for a wide stretch of quite a couple of miles the
river was broken up by rapids. Great masses of rock thrust their bare
heads out of the water like river monsters, and round them the muddy
tide bubbled, and foamed, and eddied.

It was plain enough that we were approaching a dangerous part, and had
not our sense warned us of the peril we had ample warning in the
increased swiftness and troubled state of the stream. I saw at a glance
that a boat would have but a poor chance of existing amongst the rocky
way if it should be swept there, and I had taken a firm grip of my
paddle when--

"Look, Tom!" I cried.

And for a moment our attention was taken up by one of those glorious
golden-green and scarlet birds--the trogons--flitting close by us, its
emerald crest and gorgeous yard-long tail-feathers flashing in the sun,
while its brilliant scarlet breast was for a moment reflected in the
water.

"Oh, you beauty!" cried Tom. "If I only had my old gun! But, I say,
Mas'r Harry, paddle away!"

Already somewhat more used to the propellers, we began to force the boat
towards the opposite bank, hoping to get into an eddy that should help
us along; but we had dallied with our task, and the stream now ran more
swiftly than ever. Still we made some progress, and were contriving to
dip together, when I almost let my paddle pass from my hands, for a
strange, wild cry rang along the surface of the water.

"What's that?" I exclaimed.

"I should say it was one of them pleasant brutes out for a holiday--one
of them tiger or leopard things, like what we used to see in Wombwell's
show, like great tomcats. I'll lay a wager this is the spot where they
live when they're at home and go yowling about."

"There it is again!" I exclaimed excitedly. "Why, it was a cry for
help. There is some one in the river!"

"Then he'd better hold his tongue," said Tom, "and not get shouting, or
he'll have al