These plants were taken up carefully and carried back to the canoe, where Cyrus Smith had remained absorbed in his own thoughts. The reporter, Herbert, and Pencroff, made many of these excursions, sometimes on the right bank of the Mercy and sometimes upon the left. The latter was less abrupt, but more wooded. The engineer found, by reference to the pocket-compass, that the general direction of the river from its bend was southwest, and that it was nearly straight for about three miles. But it was probable that the direction would change further up, and that it would flow from the spurs of Mount Franklin, which fed its waters in the northwest. During one of these excursions Spilett caught a couple of birds with long, slim beaks, slender necks, short wings, and no tails, which Herbert called tinamous, and which they resolved should be the first occupants of the future poultry-yard. But the first report of a gun that echoed through the forests of the Far West, was provoked by the sight of a beautiful bird, resembling a kingfisher. “I know it,” cried Pencroff. “What do you know?” asked the reporter. “That bird! It is the bird which escaped on our first exploration, the one after which we named this part of the forest!” “A jacamar!” exclaimed Herbert. It was, indeed, one of those beautiful birds, whose harsh plumage is covered with a metallic lustre. Some small shot dropped it to the earth, and Top brought it, and also some touracolories, climbing birds, the size of pigeons, to the canoe. The honor of this first shot belonged to the lad, who was pleased enough with the result. The touracolories were better game than the jacamar, the flash of the latter being tough, but it would have been hard to persuade Pencroff that they had not killed the most delicious of birds. It was 10 o’clock when the canoe reached the second bend of the river, some five miles from the mouth. Here they stopped half an hour, under the shadow of the trees, for breakfast. The river measured from sixty to seventy feet in width, and was five or six feet deep. The engineer had remarked its several affluents, but they were simply unnavigable streams. The Forests of the Far West, or Jacamar Wood, extended farther than they could see, but no where could they detect the presence of man. If, therefore, any persons had been shipwrecked on the island, they had not yet quitted the shore, and it was not in those thick coverts that search must be made for the survivors.