staining life on
such berries and other fruits as he could find, till the horror of his
situation was more than his brain could bear. Face to face with the
fact that he might go on wandering there till forced by weakness to lie
down and die, he said the horror mastered him all at once, and the rest
was like some terrible dream of going on and on, with intervals that
were full of delight, and in which he seemed to be amongst glorious
flowers, which he was always collecting, till the heaps crushed him
down, and all was horror, agony, and wild imagination. Then he awoke
lying beneath the bower of leaves, shaded from the sunshine, listening
to the birds, the rushing sound of the river, and, best of all, the
voices of his two companions.

CHAPTER THIRTY.

AN UNEXPECTED ENEMY.

Mr Brazier's recovery took a month from the day of his regaining the
balance of his reason, and even then he was weak; but he was about
again, and, though easily fatigued, took his part in the many little
duties they had to fulfil to sustain life in their forest prison. All
thought of escape by their own efforts had been given up, and they had
all taken the good course, roughly put by Shaddy as "making the best of
things."

In fact, the horror and shock of their position had grown fainter, the
loss of poor Giovanni a softened memory, and the cowardly desertion of
the Indians with the boat a matter over which it was useless to murmur.
For the human mind is very plastic, and, if fully employed, soon finds
satisfaction in its tasks.

It was so here. Every day brought its work, for the most part in
glorious sunshine, and scarcely a night arrived without one of the three
having something to announce in the way of discovery or invention for
the amelioration of their lot.

"There is always the possibility of our being sought out and escaping,"
Mr Brazier said; "and in that hope I shall go on collecting, for the
plants here are wonderful; and if I can get specimens home to England
some day there will be nothing to regret."

In this spirit he went on as he grew stronger; and as for some distance
inland in the triangle of miles, two of whose sides were the greater
river and its tributary, they had formed so many faint trails in their
hunting and fruit-seeking expeditions, the chances of being "bushed," as
the Australians call it, grew fewer, plenty of collecting expeditions
were made, at first in company with Shaddy and Rob, afterwards alone.