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Ballantyne, R. M. (Robert Michael), 1825-1894

"The Coral Island A Tale of the Pacific Ocean"

This rendered it necessary that we should watch the sun when we
happened to be out hunting; for to be suddenly left in the dark while
in the woods was very perplexing, as, although the stars shone with
great beauty and brilliancy, they could not pierce through the thick
umbrageous boughs that interlaced above our heads.
But to return: after having told all we could to Peterkin about the
Diamond Cave under Spouting Cliff, as we named the locality, we were
wending our way rapidly homewards, when a grunt and a squeal were borne
down by the land breeze to our ears.
"That's the ticket!" was Peterkin's remarkable exclamation, as he
started convulsively and levelled his spear.
"Hist!" cried Jack; "these are your friends, Peterkin. They must have
come over expressly to pay you a friendly visit, for it is the first
time we have seen them on this side the island."
"Come along!" cried Peterkin, hurrying towards the wood, while Jack and
I followed, smiling at his impatience.
Another grunt and half-a-dozen squeals, much louder than before, came
down the valley. At this time we were just opposite the small vale
which lay between the Valley of the Wreck and Spouting Cliff.
"I say, Peterkin," cried Jack in a hoarse whisper.
"Well, what is't?"
"Stay a bit, man. These grunters are just up there on the hillside. If
you go and stand with Ralph in the lee of yon cliff, I'll cut round
behind and drive them through the gorge, so that you'll have a better
chance of picking out a good one.


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