Negoro himself thought he must rejoin the little troop and take his
part of the repast, which was going to be made in common. Doubtless he
had not judged it proper to venture alone under the thick forest,
through which the winding river made its way.

It was one o'clock in the afternoon. The preserved meat, the biscuit,
the sweet water, with the addition of a few drops of rum, of which Bat
had saved a quarter cask, made the requisites for this repast. But if
Negoro took part in it, he did not at all mingle in the conversation,
in which were discussed the measures demanded by the situation of the
shipwrecked. All the time, without appearing to do so, he listened to
it, and doubtless profited by what he heard.

During this time Dingo, who had not been forgotten, watched outside the
grotto. They could be at ease. No living being would show himself on
the strand without the faithful animal giving the alarm.

Mrs. Weldon, holding her little Jack, half lying and almost asleep on
her lap, began to speak.

"Dick, my friend," said she, "in the name of all, I thank you for the
devotion that you have shown us till now; but we do not consider you
free yet. You will be our guide on land, as you were our captain at
sea. We place every confidence in you. Speak, then! What must we do?"

Mrs. Weldon, old Nan, Tom and his companions, all had their eyes fixed
on the young novice. Negoro himself looked at him with a singular
persistence. Evidently, what Dick Sand was going to reply interested
him very particularly.