mong which the river rose.

During one of these excursions, Gideon Spilett managed to get hold
of two couples of living gallinaceae. They were birds with long, thin
beaks, lengthened necks, short wings, and without any appearance of
a tail. Herbert rightly gave them the name of tinamous, and it
was resolved that they should be the first tenants of their future
poultry-yard.

But till then the guns had not spoken, and the first report which awoke
the echoes of the forest of the Far West was provoked by the appearance
of a beautiful bird, resembling the kingfisher.

"I recognize him!" cried Pencroft, and it seemed as if his gun went off
by itself.

"What do you recognize?" asked the reporter.

"The bird which escaped us on our first excursion, and from which we
gave the name to that part of the forest."

"A jacamar!" cried Herbert.

It was indeed a jacamar, of which the plumage shines with a metallic
luster. A shot brought it to the ground, and Top carried it to the
canoe. At the same time half a dozen lories were brought down. The lory
is of the size of a pigeon, the plumage dashed with green, part of
the wings crimson, and its crest bordered with white. To the young boy
belonged the honor of this shot, and he was proud enough of it. Lories
are better food than the jacamar, the flesh of which is rather tough,
but it was difficult to persuade Pencroft that he had not killed the
king of eatable birds. It was ten o'clock in the morning when the canoe
reached a second angle of the Mercy, nearly five miles from its mouth.
Here a halt was made for breakfast under the shade of some splendid
trees. The river still measured from sixty to seventy feet in breadth,
and its bed from five to six feet in depth. The engineer had observed
that it was increased by numerous affluents, but they were unnavigable,
being simply little streams. As to the forest, including Jacamar Wood,
as well as the forests of the Far West, it extended as far as the eye
could reach. In no place, either in the depths of the forests or under
the trees on the banks of the Mercy, was the presence of man revealed.
The explorers could not discover one suspicious trace. It was evident
that the woodman's axe had never touched these trees, that the pioneer's
knife had never severed the creepers hanging from one trunk to another
in the midst of tangled brushwood and long grass. If castaways had
landed on the island, they could not have yet quitted the shore, and