The basin of the river spread out, dotted with numerous
islands, which Dr. Ferguson devoured with his eyes.
He seemed to be seeking for a point of reference which he
had not yet found.
By this time, some blacks, having ventured in a boat
just under the balloon, Kennedy saluted them with a shot
from his rifle, that made them regain the bank at their
utmost speed.
"A good journey to you," bawled Joe, "and if I were in
your place, I wouldn't try coming back again. I should
be mightily afraid of a monster that can hurl thunderbolts
when he pleases."
But, all at once, the doctor snatched up his spy-glass,
and directed it toward an island reposing in the middle
of the river.
"Four trees!" he exclaimed; "look, down there!" Sure
enough, there were four trees standing alone at one
end of it.
"It is Bengal Island! It is the very same," repeated
the doctor, exultingly.
"And what of that?" asked Dick.
"It is there that we shall alight, if God permits."
"But, it seems to be inhabited, doctor."
"Joe is right; and, unless I'm mistaken, there is a
group of about a score of natives on it now."
"We'll make them scatter; there'll be no great trouble
in that," responded Ferguson.
"So be it," chimed in the hunter.
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