"Oh, I don't know," replied the middy. "It seems so strange and weird here in the darkness. It makes me feel quite low-spirited." "Do you know why that is?" asked Poole. "Of course I do. It is all dark and dangerous, and at any time we may have those mongrel Spaniels, as Chips calls them, rushing at us and firing as they come." "Well, we should fire at them back again," said Poole coolly. "But it isn't that that makes you nervous and dull." "Isn't it? Well, I suppose I am not so brave as you," whispered the middy. "Fudge! It's nothing to do with being brave. I don't feel brave. I am just as low-spirited as you are. It's because we are tired and hungry." "Why, we are keeping on eating." "Yes; biscuit-and-water. But that only keeps you from starving; it doesn't do you good. Why, if old Andy had a good fire and was roasting a wild turkey, or grilling some fish, we shouldn't feel dull, but be all expectation, and sniffing at the cooking, impatient till it was done." "Well, I suppose there is something in that," said Fitz, "for I feel as faint as can be. I seem to have been so ever since I began to get better. Always wanting something more to eat." "Of course you do. That's right enough." "What's that?" cried Fitz, catching his companion by the arm; for there was a loud slap, as if the water of the river had suddenly received a sharp blow with the blade of an oar. "I d'know," said Poole. "Boat coming, I think. Did you hear that, father?" And the speaker looked in the direction where the skipper had last been seen. "Oh yes," was the reply, coming from outside one of the windows of the room they had strengthened with a breastwork. "It's a boat coming, isn't it, father?" "No, my lad," said the skipper, in a deep-toned growl. "It's one of the crocodiles or alligators fishing for its supper." "No, no, Mr Reed," cried Fitz; "we mean that sound like a heavy slap on the water. There it goes again! That!" "Yes, that's the sound I meant," said the skipper. "Sounds queer, doesn't it, in the darkness? But that's right. It's one of the great alligator fellows thrashing the water to stun the fish. This makes them turn up, and then the great lizardly thing swallows them down." Fitz uttered a little grunt as if he thought it was very queer, and then went on nibbling his biscuit. "Poole," he whispered, "what stupids we were not to go and fish before it got dark." "That's just what I was thinking," was the reply. "Yes," continued Fitz; "we hadn't as much sense as an alligator. I wish we had a good fish or two here." "To eat raw?" said Poole scornfully. "Raw? Nonsense! We'd set old Andy to work." "No, we shouldn't. How could we have a fire here? It would be like setting ourselves up for the enemy to fire at. Why, they could creep in through the jungle till they were fifty or sixty yards away, and take pot-shots at us. But only let us get to-night over, and we will go shooting or fishing as soon as it's day."