e should have gone wild with
delight at the very anticipation of such a cruise, and rushed off to our
bedrooms to begin packing up at once, and crammed our boxes with all
kinds of impossible unnecessaries--eh, Meadows?"

"Yes; our skates, cricket-bats--" cried Sir John.

"And fishing-rods, and sticks. I say, though, we must take a good
supply of sea and fresh-water tackle. Fancy trying some river or lake
in the tropics that has never been fished before."

"Yes, and a walk at the jungle edge, butterfly-catching," cried Sir John
eagerly.

"Yes, and a tramp after rare birds, and always in expectation of
bringing down one never yet seen by science," said the doctor.

"And the flowers and plants," said Sir John, "We must take plenty of
cases and preserving paste."

"And entomological boxes and tins."

"Plenty of spirits, of course, too," cried the doctor. "I say, my
little cooking apparatus I designed--it will be invaluable; and I shall
treat myself to a new double gun, and a rifle."

"No need, my dear boy; I have plenty. But we must have a thoroughly
good supply of fishing-tackle of all kinds."

"And cartridges," said the doctor. "What do you say to clothes for the
rough work?"

"We must have plenty, and flannels and pyjamas," said Sir John. "A
couple of small portable tents, too."

"And boots for the jungle--high boots. A deal depends on boots."

"No, not high," said Sir John, "they're a nuisance--good lace-up ankle
boots, with knickerbockers and leggings."

"Yes, I believe you are right. My word, old fellow, we've got our work
cut out to prepare."

"Yes; how soon would you go?"

"As soon as ever we can get away."

"That's the style. Nothing like striking while the iron is hot."

And, full of enthusiasm, the two friends sat throwing suggestions at one
another, nearly forgetting the presence of Jack, who did not catch a
spark of their excitement, but sat gazing at them with lack-lustre eyes,
and a weary, woe-begone expression of countenance, for it seemed to him
that all was over, that he was to be dragged away from his studious
pursuits to a dreary end. His father and their old friend the doctor
meant well, no doubt; but he knew that they were mistaken, and when the
doctor left at last, it was for Sir John to wake up to the fact that he
had never seen his son look so despondent before.

"Why, Jack, lad, what a face!" cried Sir John merrily.

The boy looked in his eyes, but said nothing. "