"Turn up the side branch, my lads.

Keep up the comedy of the shooting, and have a shot at something." "But there's nothing to shoot at, sir," I said, feeling rather doubtful of the accuracy of Ching's ideas.
But as we turned up the narrow branch of the river--a creek not much wider than an English canal, I caught sight of a black-looking bird, which rose from the water and flew away paddling the surface with its feet.
I fired and dropped the bird, but it flapped along, and the men cheered and pulled in chase for two or three hundred yards before it was retrieved.
"It's a sort of moor-hen," I said, as I looked up from my captive.
"One of the pirate's hens, perhaps, Herrick," said Mr Brooke, smiling.
"Well, Ching, had we better go on ?" "Yes, go 'long," said the Chinaman rather huskily.

"Velly good place." We rowed on for another three or four hundred yards, the branch winding a great deal, so that we seemed to be in a succession of lakes, while the trees on either side completely shut us in.
"Stream runs very fast," I said.
"Yes, velly fast," said Ching.
"There, I think we had better turn back now," said Mr Brooke, but Ching smiled in a curious way.
"What go turnee back?
Pilate fliend both come in cleek after, to see what Queen Victolia jolly sailor boy go to do." "Are you sure ?" said Mr Brooke excitedly.
"Yes, sir, I see the top of one of their sails," said Tom Jecks.
"Then, by George, we are in the right track," cried Mr Brooke, and, as my heart began to beat rapidly, "Give way, my lads," he cried, "give way.".