As they landed, the
captain pointed out the mangrove swamps, and the rich growth of wild
indigo and Karunda bushes, while Hope went wild over the splendid
butterflies, which settled down in showers before them, transforming
the green bushes into great nosegays of purple, crimson, and orange
bloom. Only, these blossoms constantly changed and shifted, with
feathery, fluttering movements and kaleidoscopic changes.
Birds were many and brilliant, also, and to add to this animal life a
horde of dark-skinned little Hindu boys started up at every turn,
clamoring to sell the party all sorts of odd collections, from jungle
flowers to the gilded wood lice, the name of which condemns them,
though they are really beautiful insects, until death robs them of
their glow, and makes them as repulsive as others of their kin.
"Haven't I heard that snakes abound here?" asked Faith timorously, as
they ascended the stone steps leading up the hill from the swampland
below. "Don't they kill a good many every year?"
Her father smiled knowingly, and, as they reached the top, turned to an
English soldier in charge, and said laughingly, "My daughter, here,
imagines you keep snakes on hand--the idea!"
The other seemed to find some fun in the remark, and grinned broadly.
"The young ladies need have no fear," he returned politely, as he
touched his white helmet.
But, as the girls passed on, he detained the Captain with a wink. "I
see you know," he whispered, "but don't be worried.
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