In these storerooms were placed the barrels of provisions that had
deceived the lieutenant. Then Bludson and his assistants passed the
next few hours in throwing overboard the ballast that had been stowed
at Tybee Island in far away America.

Meanwhile Duff and his companions entered the river, which seemed to be
a small stream flowing deviously through a low, half swampy region,
where insects swarmed and many kinds of strange animals and bird life
were to be seen.

Ralph, to try his Winchester, shot at a blue heron on the wing and made
the feathers fly.

"Try it again," urged Duff sharply. "Quick now."

A second shot brought down the bird, and Ralph's opinion of breech
loaders was raised at once.

For several hours they pulled up stream, the mate taking his turn at
the oars with the others. The trees rose to a gigantic height, while
the interlacing undergrowth was at some places impenetrable.

About eleven they halted, mooring the boat to a fallen tree half
imbedded in the water. Deep shadows from the overhanging foliage
screened them from the now scorching sunlight. After a lunch on dried
beef and biscuit, the mate suggested a siesta for an hour or two until
it should be cool enough to proceed. Ralph volunteered to keep watch,
though there did not seem to be much necessity for vigilance. The
whole vast forest and all life within its folds appeared to be steeped