Boys -- Juvenile fiction; Fantasy literature; Nature -- Juvenile fiction; Self-reliance -- Juvenile fiction
At length he came to a river about thirty or forty yards wide; and this
was the same river that he had bathed in many leagues further down in
the open valley. It is called by the savages Co-viota-co-chamanga, which
means that it runs partly in the dark and partly in the light. Here it
was in the dark. The trees grew thick and tall on its banks, and their
wide branches met and intermingled above its waters that flowed on
without a ripple, black to the eye as a river of ink. How strange it
seemed when, holding on to a twig, he bent over and saw himself
reflected--a white, naked child with a scared face--in that black
mirror! Overcome by thirst, he ventured to creep down and dip his hand
in the stream, and was astonished to see that the black water looked as
clear as crystal in his hollow hand. After quenching his thirst he went
on, following the river now, for it had made him turn aside; but after
walking for an hour or more he came to a great tree that had fallen
across the stream, and climbing on to the slippery trunk, he crept
cautiously over and then went gladly on in the old direction.
[Illustration: HOW STRANGE IT SEEMED WHEN, HOLDING ON TO A TWIG, HE BENT
OVER AND SAW HIMSELF REFLECTED IN THAT BLACK MIRROR.]
Now, after he had crossed the river and walked a long distance, he came
to a more open part; but though it was nice to feel the sunshine on him
again, the underwood and grass and creepers trailing over the ground
made it difficult and tiring to walk, and in this place a curious thing
happened. Picking his way through the tangled herbage, an animal his
footsteps had startled scuttled away in great fear, and as it went he
caught a glimpse of it. It was a kind of weasel, but very large--larger
than a big tom-cat, and all over as black as the blackest cat. Looking
down he discovered that this strange animal had been feasting on eggs.
The eggs were nearly as large as fowls', of a deep green colour, with
polished shells. There had been about a dozen in the nest, which was
only a small hollow in the ground lined with dry grass, but most of them
had been broken, and the contents devoured by the weasel. Only two
remained entire, and these he took, and tempted by his hunger, soon
broke the shells at the small end and sucked them clean. They were raw,
but never had eggs, boiled, fried, or poached, tasted so nice before! He
had just finished his meal, and was wishing that a third egg had
remained in the ruined nest, when a slight sound like the buzzing of an
insect made him look round, and there, within a few feet of him, was the
big black weasel once more, looking strangely bold and savage-tempered.
It kept staring fixedly at Martin out of its small, wicked, beady black
eyes, and snarling so as to show its white sharp teeth; and very white
they looked by contrast with the black lips, and nose, and hair. Martin
stared back at it, but it kept moving and coming nearer, now sitting
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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