When we had scrambled to the top of a high peak, almost instantly we saw the strange mountain pictured in the letter. In shape it was the perfect image of a hawk’s head, and was, as far as we could see, the second highest summit in the island.
Although we were all out of breath from our climb, the Doctor didn’t let us rest a second as soon as he had sighted it. With one look at the sun for direction, down he dashed again, breaking through thickets, splashing over brooks, taking all the shortcuts. For a fat man, he was certainly the swiftest cross-country runner I ever saw.
We floundered after him as fast as we could. When I say we, I mean Bumpo and myself; for the animals, Jip, Chee-Chee and Polynesia, were a long way ahead—even beyond the Doctor—enjoying the hunt like a paper-chase.
At length we arrived at the foot of the mountain we were making for; and we found its sides very steep. Said the Doctor,
“Now we will separate and search for caves. This spot where we now are, will be our meeting-place. If anyone finds anything like a cave or a hole where the earth and rocks have fallen in, he must shout and hulloa to the rest of us. If we find nothing we will all gather here in about an hour’s time—Everybody understand?”
Then we all went off our different ways.
Each of us, you may be sure, was anxious to be the one to make a discovery. And never was a mountain searched so thoroughly. But alas! nothing could we find that looked in the least like a fallen-in cave. There were plenty of places where rocks had tumbled down to the foot of the slopes; but none of these appeared as though caves or passages could possibly lie behind them.
One by one, tired and disappointed, we straggled back to the meeting-place. The Doctor seemed gloomy and impatient but by no means inclined to give up.
“Jip,” he said, “couldn’t you smell anything like an Indian anywhere?”
“No,” said Jip. “I sniffed at every crack on the mountainside. But I am afraid my nose will be of no use to you here, Doctor. The trouble is, the whole air is so saturated with the smell of spider-monkeys that it drowns every other scent—And besides, it’s too cold and dry for good smelling.”
“It is certainly that,” said the Doctor—“and getting colder all the time. I’m afraid the island is still drifting to the southward. Let’s hope it stops before long, or we won’t be able to get even nuts and fruit to eat—everything in the island will perish—Chee-Chee, what luck did you have?”
“None, Doctor. I climbed to every peak and pinnacle I could see. I searched every hollow and cleft. But not one place could I find where men might be hidden.”
“And Polynesia,” asked the Doctor, “did you see nothing that might put us on the right track?”
“Not a thing, Doctor—But I have a plan.”
“Oh good!” cried John Dolittle, full of hope renewed. “What is it? Let’s hear it.”
“You still have that beetle with you,” she asked—“the Biz-biz, or whatever it is you call the wretched insect?”
“Yes,” said the Doctor, producing the glass-topped box from his pocket, “here it is.”
“All right. Now listen,” said she. “If what you have supposed is true—that is, that Long Arrow had been trapped inside the mountain by falling rock, he probably found that beetle inside the cave—perhaps many other different beetles too, eh? He wouldn’t have been likely to take the Biz-biz in with him, would he?—He was hunting plants, you say, not beetles. Isn’t that right?”
“Yes,” said the Doctor, “that’s probably so.”
“Very well. It is fair to suppose then that the beetle’s home, or his hole, is in that place—the part of the mountain where Long Arrow and his party are imprisoned, isn’t it?”
“Quite, quite.”
“All right. Then the thing to do is to let the beetle go—and watch him; and sooner or later he’ll return to his home in Long Arrow’s cave. And there we will follow him—Or at all events,” she added smoothing down her wing-feathers with a very superior air, “we will follow him till the miserable bug starts nosing under the earth. But at least he will show us what part of the mountain Long Arrow is hidden in.”
“But he may fly, if I let him out,” said the Doctor. “Then we shall just lose him and be no better off than we were before.”
“Let him fly,” snorted Polynesia scornfully. “A parrot can wing it as fast as a Biz-biz, I fancy. If he takes to the air, I’ll guarantee not to let the little devil out of my sight. And if he just crawls along the ground you can follow him yourself.”
“Splendid!” cried the Doctor. “Polynesia, you have a great brain. I’ll set him to work at once and see what happens.”
Again we all clustered round the Doctor as he carefully lifted off the glass lid and let the big beetle climb out upon his finger.
“Ladybug, Ladybug, fly away home!” crooned Bumpo. “Your house is on fire and your chil—”
“Oh, be quiet!” snapped Polynesia crossly. “Stop insulting him! Don’t you suppose he has wits enough to go home without your telling him?”
“I thought perchance he might be of a philandering disposition,” said Bumpo humbly. “It could be that he is tired of his home and needs to be encouraged. Shall I sing him ‘Home Sweet Home,’ think you?”
“No. Then he’d never go back. Your voice needs a rest. Don’t sing to him: just watch him—Oh, and Doctor, why not tie another message to the creature’s leg, telling Long Arrow that we’re doing our best to reach him and that he mustn’t give up hope?”
“I will,” said the Doctor. And in a minute he
