Next morning, the 6th January, nothing new appeared on board. No sound was heard, not a sign of life. The launch lay alongside as we had left it. We resolved to return to the island. Ned Land was hoping to be more successful as a hunter than he had been the day before, and wished to visit another portion of the forest.
At sunrise we were en route. The boat, assisted by the tide, soon reached the island.
We disembarked, and thinking it better to trust to the instinct of the Canadian, we followed Ned Land, whose long legs threatened to distance us.
He took his course towards the west, then finding some torrents, he gained the high ground, which is surrounded by beautiful woods. Some kingfishers darted along the water-courses, but would not allow us to approach them. Their caution was to me evidence that they were acquainted with mankind; and if the island was not actually inhabited, it was frequently visited by human beings.
Having crossed an immense grass prairie, we reached the edge of a little wood, which resounded with the songs and rustlings of a quantity of birds.
“They are nothing but birds,” said Conseil.
“But there is something to be eaten,” replied the harpooner.
“Not at all,” replied Conseil, “for I can see nothing but parrots.”
“Friend Conseil,” said Ned, gravely, “a parrot becomes a pheasant to those who have nothing but parrots to eat.”
