Yes, well might they gaze and gaze again in surprise and in excessive admiration; and well might Barney O’Flannagan—­under the circumstances, with such sights and sounds around him, and the delightful odours of myrtle trees arid orange blossoms and the Cape jessamine stealing up his nostrils—­deem himself the tenant of another world, and evince his conviction of the fact in that memorable expression—­“I’ve woked in paradise!”

But Barney began to find “paradise” not quite so comfortable as it ought to be; for when he tried to get up he found his bones pained and stiff from sleeping in damp clothes; and moreover, his face was very much swelled, owing to the myriads of mosquitoes which had supped of it during the night.

“Arrah, then, won’t ye be done!” he cried, angrily, giving his face a slap that killed at least two or three hundred of his tormentors.  But thousands more attacked him instantly, and he soon found out,—­what every one finds out sooner or later in hot climates,—­that patience is one of the best remedies for mosquito bites.  He also discovered shortly afterwards that smoke is not a bad remedy, in connection with patience.

“What are we to have for breakfast, Barney?” inquired Martin as he rose and yawned and stretched his limbs.

“Help yersilf to what ye plase,” said Barney, with a polite bow, waving his hand round him, as if the forest were his private property and Martin Rattler his honoured guest.

“Well, I vote for oranges,” said Martin, going towards a tree which was laden with ripe fruit.

“An’ I’ll try plums, by way of variety,” added his companion.

In a few minutes several kinds of fruit and nuts were gathered and spread at the foot of the tree under which they had reposed.  Then Barney proceeded to kindle a fire,—­not that he had anything to cook, but he said it looked sociable-like, and the smoke would keep off the flies.  The operation, however, was by no means easy.  Everything had been soaked by the rain of the previous night, and a bit of dry grass could scarcely be found.  At length he procured a little; and by rubbing it in the damp gunpowder which he had extracted from his pistol, and drying it in the sun, he formed a sort of tinder that caught fire after much persevering effort.

Some of the fruits they found to be good,—­others bad.  The good they ate,—­the bad they threw away.  After their frugal fare they felt much refreshed, and then began to talk of what they should do.

“We can’t live here with parrots and monkeys, you know,” said Martin; “we must try to find a village or town of some sort; or get to the coast, and then we shall perhaps meet with a ship.”

“True, lad,” replied Barney, knitting his brows and looking extremely sagacious; “the fact is, since neither of us knows nothing about anything, or the way to any place, my advice is to walk straight for’ard till we come to something.”