SECOND PART
CHAPTER 10: The Underwater Coalfields
(continued)
Naturally enough, the Canadian wanted to lay in a supply of honey,
and it would have been ill-mannered of me to say no. He mixed sulfur
with some dry leaves, set them on fire with a spark from his tinderbox,
and proceeded to smoke the bees out. Little by little the buzzing died
down and the disemboweled hive yielded several pounds of sweet honey.
Ned Land stuffed his haversack with it.
"When I've mixed this honey with our breadfruit batter," he told us,
"I'll be ready to serve you a delectable piece of cake."
"But of course," Conseil put in, "it will be gingerbread!"
"I'm all for gingerbread," I said, "but let's resume
this fascinating stroll."
At certain turns in the trail we were going along, the lake
appeared in its full expanse. The ship's beacon lit up that whole
placid surface, which experienced neither ripples nor undulations.
The Nautilus lay perfectly still. On its platform and on the embankment,
crewmen were bustling around, black shadows that stood out clearly
in the midst of the luminous air.
Just then we went around the highest ridge of these rocky
foothills that supported the vault. Then I saw that bees weren't
the animal kingdom's only representatives inside this volcano.
Here and in the shadows, birds of prey soared and whirled,
flying away from nests perched on tips of rock. There were
sparrow hawks with white bellies, and screeching kestrels.
With all the speed their stiltlike legs could muster, fine fat bustards
scampered over the slopes. I'll let the reader decide whether
the Canadian's appetite was aroused by the sight of this tasty game,
and whether he regretted having no rifle in his hands. He tried
to make stones do the work of bullets, and after several fruitless
attempts, he managed to wound one of these magnificent bustards.
To say he risked his life twenty times in order to capture this
bird is simply the unadulterated truth; but he fared so well,
the animal went into his sack to join the honeycombs.
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