Таинственный остров / Mysterious Island

The opposite bank was more undulating, and the valley was more clearly defined[27 - clearly defined – отчётливо обрисована]. The hill, covered with trees, rising in terraces, intercepted the vision. They could hardly walk along the right bank, for the descent was steep, and the trees were only sustained by their roots. It is needless to say that both forest and shore seemed a virgin wilderness. They even saw fresh traces of animals whose species was unknown to them.

They hardly spoke, and their hunting was fruitless.

Birds were singing and flying to and fro[28 - to and fro – взад-вперёд] under the trees; but they showed an instinctive fear of their enemy man. Among fir trees was fluttering a flock of birds, with small bodies and long, glittering tails.

“These are couroucous[29 - couroucous – куруку (птица из породы ворон)],” said Herbert. “They are good to eat; their meat is delicious. Besides, I think we can easily get at them with our sticks.

”

They reached the foot of a tree. Using their sticks like a scythe, they mowed down whole rows of the couroucous, of whom 105 were knocked over before the stupid birds thought of escape.

Their route was indicated by the river; they followed it downward, and by 6 o’clock Herbert and Pencroff re-entered the Chimneys.

Chapter VII

Gideon Spilett stood motionless upon the shore, gazing on the sea, whose horizon was darkened. The wind, already strong, was freshening, and the heavens had an angry look.

Pencroff began to prepare dinner. At 7 o’clock Neb was still absent.

The storm began. A furious gust of wind passed over the coast from the southeast. At 8 o’clock Neb had not returned. The birds were all they had for supper, but the party found them excellent eating. Pencroff and Herbert devoured them. Then each one retired to his corner, and Herbert was soon asleep.

It was about 2 o’clock when Pencroff was suddenly aroused from a deep sleep.

The reporter was shaking him.

“What’s the matter?” Pencroff cried.

The reporter was bending over him and saying:

“Listen, Pencroff, listen!”

The sailor listened, but could hear nothing interesting.

“It is the wind,” he said.

“No,” answered Spilett, “listen again! I think I heard…”

“What?”

“The barking of a dog!”

“A dog!” cried Pencroff, springing to his feet.

“Yes, the barking.