tIcouldseenothingofthemoon-lightsavethathereandtherethehighbranchesmadeatangledfiligreeagainstthestarrysky.Astheeyesbecamemoreusedtotheobscurityonelearnedthatthereweredifferentdegreesofdarknessamongthetrees—thatsomeweredimlyvisible,whilebetweenandamongthemtherewerecoal-blackshadowedpatches,likethemouthsofcaves,fromwhichIshrankinhorrorasIpassed.Ithoughtofthedespairingyellofthetorturediguanodon—thatdreadfulcrywhichhadechoedthroughthewoods.Ithought,too,oftheglimpseIhadinthelightofLordJohn'storchofthatbloated,warty,blood-slaveringmuzzle.EvennowIwasonitshunting-ground.Atanyinstantitmightspringuponmefromtheshadows—thisnamelessandhorriblemonster.Istopped,and,pickingacartridgefrommypocket,Iopenedthebreechofmygun.AsItouchedthelevermyheartleapedwithinme.Itwastheshot-gun,nottherifle,whichIhadtaken!
Againtheimpulsetoreturnsweptoverme.Here,surely,wasamostexcellentreasonformyfailure—oneforwhichnoonewouldthinkthelessofme.Butagainthefoolishpridefoughtagainstthatveryword.Icouldnot—mustnot—fail.Afterall,myriflewouldprobablyhavebeenasuselessasashot-gunagainstsuchdangersasImightmeet.IfIweretogobacktocamptochangemyweaponIcouldhardlyexpecttoenterandtoleaveagainwithoutbeingseen.Inthatcasetherewouldbeexplanations,andmyattemptwouldnolongerbeallmyown.Afteralittlehesitation,then,Iscrewedupmycourageandcontinueduponmyway,myuselessgunundermyarm.
Thedarknessoftheforesthadbeenalarming,butevenworsewasthewhite,stillfloodofmoonlightintheopengladeoftheiguanodons.Hidamongthebushes,Ilookedoutatit.Noneofthegreatbruteswereinsight.Perhapsthetragedywhichhadbefallenoneofthemhaddriventhemfromtheirfeeding-ground.Inthemisty,silverynightIcouldseenosignofanylivingthing.Takingcourage,therefore,Islippedrapidlyacrossit,andamongthejungleonthefarthersideIpickeduponceagainthebrookwhichwasmyguide.Itwasacheerycompanion,gurglingandchucklingasitran,likethedearoldtrout-streamintheWestCountrywhereIhavefishedatnightinmyboyhood.SolongasIfolloweditdownImustcometothelake,andsolongasIfolloweditbackImustcometothecamp.OftenIhadtolosesightofitonaccountofthetangledbrush-wood,butIwasalwayswithinearshotofitstinkleandsplash.
Asonedescendedtheslopethewoodsbecamethinner,andbushes,withoccasionalhightrees,tooktheplaceoftheforest.Icouldmakegoodprogress,therefore,andIcouldseewithoutbeingseen.Ipassedclosetothepterodactylswamp,andasIdidso,withadry,crisp,leatheryrattleofwings,oneofthesegreatcreatures—itwastwentyfeetatleastfromtiptotip—roseupfromsomewherenearmeandsoaredintotheair.Asitpassedacrossthefaceofthemoonthelightshoneclearl