He would not have disdained even a monkey, if he could kill nothing else. He first made his way to the spring, where he had to quench his burning thirst. He then crawled on until he reached a tree, behind which he stood, hoping that some animal might come by at which he might take a steady aim. He waited and waited, however, in vain. He saw several deer in the distance, but they bounded along far out of range of his bow. At last he saw two hogs come grunting up, turning up the ground with their snouts in search of roots. They approached slowly. Trembling with eagerness, hoping that he might be able to kill one of them, he kept the arrow in the string, ready to shoot. The hogs came on moving from one side to the other, till they had got to within about thirty yards of it, when, fearing that they might suddenly turn off away from the tree, and sure that he could send his arrow to that distance, steadying himself as well as he could, he bent his bow. The arrow flew from the string, but though it struck the hog with a force which made the creature squeak, it glanced off from its thick hide, and both the animals, looking round, scampered away at a rate which made it hopeless to attempt overtaking them. Lord Reginald, however, getting ready another arrow, shot it, but it missed both hogs, who escaped, whisking their tails. He followed to pick up the arrows. Neither of them was broken. He next tried his skill at a cockatoo, but the arrow glanced against a bough, and the bird flew away with a scream of derision,--so poor Lord Reginald thought it. He was equally unsuccessful when aiming at some green pigeons. He had lost five of the arrows, and was almost in despair, when he caught sight of a monkey. He fixed the last arrow to the string and took as he thought a steady aim, but the monkey gave a nimble skip, and went chattering away to a distance, as if fully aware of the evil intended him, while the bow, as it sprang back again, gave a crack, and to Lord Reginald's dismay he found that it was broken. He dashed it down to the ground. "Unfortunate being that I am!" he exclaimed. "Surrounded by plenty, I am doomed to starve." The agitation of his feelings almost overcame him. "I must depend in future for subsistence on the shell-fish, the _very_ taste of which I abhor." With difficulty he staggered towards the cave; that would at all events afford him shelter at night. On the way he stopped to drink at the spring, and fill a large clam-shell which he had previously carried there with water. He could scarcely, however, carry it along without spilling the contents. He at last reached his cave. On looking around he discovered that Neptune was not with him. "The dog has gone off to that fellow Hargrave, for food. I'll take care that he doesn't go again. He ought to be satisfied with what I can get," he exclaimed.