CHAPTER X
THE ASCENT OF THE UPPER AMAZON
Day was just breaking when the launch nosed her way out into the little stream. Overhead, the leaf-covered branches of the trees that lined the water-course met to form a delicate tracery of black against the graying sky.
Birds raised their voices, clear and cheery in the checkered canopy and others responded in drowsy, listless whispers from the dark walls on either side.
Where the creek was narrowest or where the foliage was so dense as completely to obscure the sky, the water seemed to melt away into deep pools of blackness; but the launch glided on and on without plunging abruptly into some unseen abyss, although the muffled throb of the engine always seemed fainter in the heavier gloom as if in deference to the all-pervading spirit of darkness.
Once there was a sudden crashing in the heavy undergrowth followed by the splash of a heavy body in the water; then silence for a short interval. Now the sequence was reversed. There was first a splashing in the water and then the crashing of brush—on the opposite side of the stream. A tapir, alarmed by the boat, had sought refuge in the water only to discover that the cause of its terror was directly in its path. Therefore it had dived and swum swiftly beneath the surface and then, emerging, lost no time in regaining the land.
When the light grew somewhat stronger gaunt forms appeared between the water and the fretwork overhead. They always sprang out of the deepest shadows and melted into the distance as silent as spectres and as devoid of clews as to their identity. But finally, when one of them emitted a hoarse croak of fright as the launch rounded a bend and brushed the vegetation in which the creature had been concealed, David knew that it was a heron.
The occasional chorus of squawks that came from high above belonged to flocks of macaws on their way to some fruiting tree for an early breakfast.
By the time the sun rose the launch had entered the main river where the craft hugged the shore in order to avoid the strong current further out. There now being less danger of collisions they moved at a faster rate of speed. David could not but feel how different this mode of travel was from the slow, painful progress made by the batalao when he came up this same river to the ranch.
The Solimoes was broad, majestic and awe-inspiring. Frequently they were caught in swift eddies near the bank, where the launch had to fight for each inch of the way; and occasionally they had to make detours far out into the river to avoid treacherous sand bars covered with only a few inches of water. The latter were in great contrast to other parts of the river where the depth was immense.
One such place was pointed out by the men. The spot was marked by a keg buoy; one of the steamers plying on the Upper Amazon had gone down there shortly before with nearly all hands. The boat had been located on the bottom, two hundred and ninety feet down. Divers could not descend to that great depth and even if they could they would not on account of the aquatic monsters that lurked far beneath the surface.
At Palomas, a small station maintained from the ranch, they stopped to replenish their supply of gasoline. Carrying the cases to the launch and storing them took several hours and as it was late in the afternoon when the work was finished it was decided to remain at anchor until the next morning.
David worked with the others, carrying the heavy tins on his shoulder until it seemed the sharp corners had cut furrows in the flesh; and, while some of the others did a good deal of complaining, he said nothing.
After the task had been completed he stripped for a swim—the first in days. One of the men observed his action and hastened to caution him against entering the river on account of the great numbers of crocodiles and cannibal fishes that congregated at this particular spot and would make short work of anyone foolhardy enough to enter the water. However, there was a place farther up where one could swim in safety.
Several others now came to join them and together they went to a little bay where a stockade of stout poles had been driven into the bottom forming an enclosure that barred the entrance of the savage creatures inhabiting the river.
So far, the peons, while not discourteous, had persisted in their aloofness toward David, and he could not but feel that as yet they had not accepted him as one of their number. He wanted to overcome that feeling on their part; he was compelled to share their labors and it was but natural that he wanted to share their confidences also. The tobacco he had given them in the hut at the ranch, and on several occasions after that, had helped break down the barrier between them. But for the greater part, they had accepted it merely as a present from someone financially able and by nature generous enough to give it. Anyone in like circumstances could do that. It would require some feat of physical prowess and courage to establish the stranger deeply in their estimation. Not until he had demonstrated such traits to their entire satisfaction would the gulf between them be closed.
After ascertaining the depth of the water, David began to dive off the high bank, from numerous positions, and before he realized it, the men had stopped swimming and had formed a semi-circle to watch. Then came exclamations of surprise and approbation as he plunged, again and again, into the water.
“Bravo,” they shouted as he reappeared after each splash.
“It’s nothing,” David answered with a happy smile. “Come along and I’ll show you how to do it.”
But the men did not follow him; the bank was too high, they said. Therefore, Jones showed them various strokes in swimming and in this they all joined, vieing with one another in attempts to master the lesson and thereby win the muito bom of approval from the master.
When they returned to the launch the men who had been to swim told the others what had occurred and were loud in their praise of their new companion.
Everyone listened interestedly except Miguel, their self-appointed leader.
“Who couldn’t swim inside the stockade?” he asked derisively.
“It wasn’t that. We all swam, but it was the ways he did it. And you should have seen him dive from the top of the bank, and you know how high that is.”
“All it takes to do that is practice,” Miguel said, with an air of pouring out wisdom to the ignorant. “Some day we will see if this Nobody is so wonderful in the water. I will go into the river—” he paused so that they might appreciate the full weight of his words, “into the river, I said, where there is no stockade, or into a lagoon full of piranhas and crocodiles. See if he will follow me.”
At first David said nothing. But the men were looking at him expectantly and a few were showing disappointment in their faces.
“All right,” he answered slowly. “Let me know when you are ready. I am not trying to show off but I can certainly do anything you can.”
The men now looked at Miguel. He moved uneasily. His bluff had been called, much to his dismay. But he held his ground.
“I will let you know” he said, “and everybody else, too, so they can see just how brave you are and what a good swimmer you are. You said you would follow me; I have witnesses.”
“Yes. I said that. I expect you to make good—I have witnesses, too.”
Just then the cook called the men for the evening meal, so taking their bowls and spoons they went to the launch for their dole of rice and beef.
In the days that followed, David gave demonstrations and lessons in swimming and diving so often as the opportunity presented itself; and, under his instruction a number of the party soon became adepts at performing the feats they had admired so greatly. In return, they showed him how to handle the lasso and he lost no chance to practice with it, using stumps and snags for targets and sometimes one of the men who would run past, inviting the entangling coils of the rope.
Miguel made no further mention of his challenge and David was careful not to remind him of it. It was not until several weeks later that the matter again came up, with consequences as unexpected as they were startling.
For the present David was fully occupied with the venture in hand. There were a hundred things he wanted to learn and the questions he asked were many. The men, however, were reluctant to talk on most subjects and he finally came to the conclusion that their reticence was the result either of ignorance or of orders from higher up.
They were glad enough to help him with his study of their language—so far as they themselves knew it; to tell him about the river or the animals; and of the methods employed in collecting and preparing the rubber latex. But when he asked about Rice, the ranch, or kindred things they remained ominously silent.
After a while David did not mention these subjects again. It was too evident that the men did not want to discuss them.
A week later they entered a river that joined the Solimoes from the west. It was a small stream compared with the one into which it emptied—not over a few hundred yards in width. At least, the channel they had entered was narrow and the water was clear and swift so that the launch made slow progress. When David looked down at the water speeding past them it seemed that they must be moving along at a furious rate; when he looked at the trees on the bank he knew that they were barely making any headway. It took several hours for them to battle their way up the turbulent stretch of rapids.
“That is an island,” said one of the men, pointing to the land on their right. “This channel is bad enough—especially when the water is low. But you should see the branch on the other side of the island. There is a drop there several meters high and no boat can pass up or down it.”
David was not greatly impressed by these words. He did not recall them even later when he found himself suddenly at the brink of that very drop.
The country rapidly became wilder in appearance. Perhaps it only seemed so because the stream was so narrow that they had a continuous close view of both banks and the heavy growth that clothed them.
The launch seemed strangely out of place in the dreary, primeval waste of jungle and hurrying water. Men had come and gone before on the river; and Indians and beasts lived in the green fortresses on either side. But there was no sign of them, no trace of their presence or existence. Only once was there evidence that others besides themselves were stirring on the now silent, undemonstrative river.
They had just rounded a sharp bend which had obstructed their view up-stream. Ahead of them and not more than two hundred yards distant was another abrupt bend. The stern of a dugout canoe was just disappearing around it. They could not see the occupants of the craft, but the widening circles of ripples on the water showed that a number of paddles had been dipped deep to propel the canoe at great speed.
They reached the spot soon after. Ahead of them was a clear stretch of water fully a mile long. It was not possible that the Indians could have covered that distance while the launch, travelling much faster, was traversing the very short distance that had separated them. But the dugout was not in sight. There was not a trace of it—not even a ripple on the water to tell where it had gone. It had vanished completely.
The river glided on as smoothly and as silently as before with the secret of the mysterious craft safely locked in its yellow flood.
“The guns,” the captain said quietly as they steered toward the middle of the stream.
The men who had weapons loaded them and held them ready for instant action. They scanned the banks as they sped along, but saw no signs of the canoe. There were no creeks or inlets in which it could have been hidden.
“Where did it get to?” David asked in astonishment.
“Who knows?” one of the men answered. “That is one of the mysterious things the Indians do that cannot be explained. One minute you see them, the next they are gone. And the minute you forget all about them a shower of arrows comes rattling around your head.”
“I can’t understand it. I should think it would get on your nerves,” David commented with a shudder.
“It does. Who wouldn’t be upset when he knows there are silent, tricky shadows all around him that appear and fade away at will. You’ll understand it better when you have been in the country longer.”
“I don’t feel comfortable. It doesn’t seem natural.”
“I tell you these Indians are diablos. They are not human. That’s why we are no match for them. You’ll see!”
The river grew somewhat narrower as they advanced up-stream. Also the water was still falling, the dry season not having reached its height. In a few weeks it would be at its lowest stage; then it would remain stationary for some time, until the coming of the rains when it always rose rapidly until the stream was converted into a roaring flood.
The receding water left the ledges of rock that cropped out of the river bank exposed above the surface—some of them many feet up, others sloping gently into the stream. All of them were covered with mud which had not dried on the more recently exposed ones.
They came suddenly upon such a table-like expanse glistening in the bright sunlight. On it were dark masses that moved. The distance separating them was at first too great for David to tell just what the objects were, but the men saw them before long and raised a shout of joy.
“Meat, meat!” they said. “Now we will have fresh meat to eat.”
“What are they, turtles?” David asked, then answered his own question. “They can’t be. Look at the bright colors.”
“They are birds,” someone said. “All kinds of parrots.”
“Parrots? What are they doing in the mud?”
“Eating it, of course.”
“And you expect me to believe that? There are a good many things I don’t know about your country, but I do know that parrots don’t eat mud.”
“It’s the truth”; it was Miguel who strove to show his superior knowledge. “They come each year when the water is low and gorge themselves on the fresh mud. There is salt or something of that kind in it and they come to get that.”
They were now near enough to the ledge so that a good view of the birds could be had. There were large groups of them that must have totaled thousands of individuals. Many different species were abundantly represented. There were red and blue macaws of great size; large green parrots with yellow heads; parrokeets no larger than an English sparrow; and many of intermediate dimensions. Almost every hue of the rainbow could be seen in the assortment. But standing out from the motley array was a group of the magnificent hyacinthine macaws.
Much to the surprise of David the birds were not alarmed upon the approach of the launch. Ordinarily so wary, they paid not the slightest attention to the oncoming, noisy craft, but continued delving deeply into the mire with their hooked beaks.
“The mud makes them stupid,” they explained when he asked the reason for the seeming indifference, “or else they get drunk on it. Anyway, they can’t fly away. That’s why we are going to have all the fresh meat we can eat for a few days.”
When the launch reached the ledge the men leaped ashore with poles in their hands and clambered into the midst of the groups of birds. A few took wing, circled once or twice and then came back to their old places; a number of others ran about aimlessly, obviously bewildered, but unable to seek safety in flight. The vast majority, however, did not notice the men, who began clubbing them with their poles.
David revolted at the sight, but was powerless to prevent the slaughter, in which, however, he took no part.
“I’m going to have one for a pet, though,” he thought, “one of the big blue ones.”
He threw his coat over a hyacinthine macaw and carried it back to the launch where he deposited it on the deck. When he removed the covering the bird struggled to its feet and stood blinking at him in a dazed manner.
How wonderful it was! It measured nearly four feet from the tip of its hooked beak to the end of its tail, and was of a uniform deep blue color. The bill was of enormous proportions, fully three inches deep, the upper mandible ending in a sharp, hooked point, the lower fitting into it like a keen-edged scoop. He had not imagined that such a creature existed.
Soon the men came back laden with their victims. They made several trips back and forth to gather up all the birds they had killed, but at last the task was completed and a high heap lay on the deck. Fortunately, large numbers of survivors still remained on the ledge, eating as unconcernedly as if nothing out of the ordinary had occurred.
When the men saw what David had done they roared with laughter.
“Wait until it wakes up,” one said. “It will make things hot for you. You’ll never manage it.”
“I’m going to tie it,” David explained. “Here is a string that I bet will hold it.”
At this they laughed louder than before.
“Better use this wire,” one suggested, handing him one of the kind used in binding the bales of dried beef, and he accepted it, fastening one end to one of the bird’s legs and the other to the rail.
“Now, I guess you’ll stay a while,” David commented. “I’m going to tame you and take you back home with me.”
The remainder of the day was spent plucking and dressing the parrots and that night they ate quantities of them that had been boiled first and then roasted. The flesh was of excellent flavor, though many of the birds were tough in the extreme. However, they were a most welcome change from the everlasting dried beef and there were enough left for several days to come.
CHAPTER XI
IN THE RUBBER FOREST
The rubber camp was a dismal place. The clusters of huts comprising the settlement stood in the deep shade cast by gigantic trees that grew close together; most of them were little more than shelters—peaked roofs on poles, and were of the flimsiest possible construction. The palm-leaf thatch was held in place by poles laid across it short distances apart, instead of being tied with strips of bark or creepers. However, the makeshift construction was entirely practicable as the hovels had to be replaced each year and they served their purpose well for one short season.
The paths that had been worn between the huts were muddy and a number of lean pigs wallowed in them. The latter were the camp scavengers and were also relied upon to destroy scorpions, tarantulas and other obnoxious creatures that ventured near the human habitations.
The smokehouses in which the rubber later was prepared, after it had been brought in from the forest, stood apart from the huts occupied as living quarters by the men. These had walls that enclosed them, but light filtered into the interior through the thin layer of leaves that extended from the roof to the ground. The earth floors were littered with an array of large tin cones, pails, bowls of various sizes, wooden paddles and heaps of the palm nuts burned to produce the acrid smoke needed to congeal the rubber milk. There were also numerous little fireplaces built of stones. David was to learn the use of all these utensils very soon.
Several long dug-out canoes were tied up at the bank. They were a precautionary measure. If the water in the river should rise suddenly, as it sometimes did, the men could take to the boats as the whole region would soon be inundated.
They unloaded the launch and carried the supplies to the storehouse. Their personal effects were taken to those huts having sufficient space for their hammocks. David returned to the boat just in time to see a large bird winging its way up the river.
“There goes your pet,” one of the men greeted him. “I told you so.”
The wire had been bitten in two as if it had been a thread.
“Well, if it’s like that, I’m glad it’s gone,” David said, but he was in reality somewhat sorry to lose his prize.
“You can’t keep them,” the man continued. “They bite or gnaw their way out of anything and if you try to be friendly they bite your fingers off.”
The bird had swerved in its flight and with raucous screams disappeared over the tree-tops.
Nothing was seen of the men engaged in the rubber harvest, for they were in the forest collecting the previous night’s flow of sap. Only two Brazilians, the cook and his helper, were on duty at the camp, and they kept up a continuous bombardment of questions of the newcomers, most of which concerned David, but he did not try to understand what was being said.
The Indians and Brazilians arrived from the forest shortly before noon and looked at the white man in astonishment. The Indians had their abodes apart from the others and did not mingle with the Brazilians; most of them had their entire families with them and all helped with the work in hand.
David was awakened early the following morning. Daylight had not yet penetrated into the jungle, but by the time coffee had been prepared, each man going to the cook shack with his cup for his share, the gray light was filtering through the branches overhead. The Indians remained near their hovels and prepared their own food over small fires.
“Come with me!” The speaker was one of the men who had come on the launch, and his words were directed at David.
“Here is your outfit. I will start you on a route and tell you all you have to know,” he continued. “Tomorrow and every day after that you’ll be alone like the rest of us.”
David took the small ax which, however, had a handle five feet long; that was the “outfit” to which the man had referred. Silently, he followed his guide into the forest.
“Now, listen,” the latter said, after they had gone a short distance. “The trees that produce the rubber milk are called Hevea braziliensis; everybody knows that name, even the most ignorant Indians, so you ought to remember it, too. The trees grow all over the forest, but the trouble is that there are never very many of them close together. You will find one here and one there and by the time you have discovered a few hundred you will be many kilometers from where you started. Could you tell one if you saw it?”
“Yes, I know a rubber tree. It has long, thick leaves. Some of them grow higher than I am,” David replied, proud of his knowledge.
“I never saw one like that. This is one of the kind I mean,” and the man stopped. Before him was a tree fully seventy-five feet high and eighteen inches through at the base. At first it looked to David exactly like all the other trees around them. But a second glance showed a number of V-shaped welts distributed evenly around the lower part of the trunk.
“Is that one?” he asked. “It is different from my kind, but I see. It will be easy to find the trees now that you have pointed one out to me. I could tell them from a distance on account of the way the bark grows.”
The man burst into a laugh.
“The bark don’t grow that way naturally,” he said. “This tree has been bled some time ago and those marks are the scars that have healed over.”
He then explained the characteristics by which the hevea trees could be readily identified. The bark, for instance, was fairly smooth, and the long leaves grew in little clusters of three.
They walked on rapidly winding to right and to left so as to find all the trees growing in a wide belt of country, but kept a straight course toward the east.
After a while the guide stopped suddenly.
“Do you know where we are?” he asked.
“Yes, I think so,” David replied.
“Where is camp?”
“That way,” and David pointed north.
“You’re wrong, but it’s my fault. I should have told you before; the best way to mark your trail in the jungle is to bend down twigs as you go along. The under sides of the leaves are much lighter than the upper sides, so you can see them a long way off. Watch!”
He snapped a small branch and the two walked on. Looking back, David could easily distinguish the light, silvery under surface of the leaves on the branch that had been bent.
After that he snapped twigs frequently, leaving a well-defined trail in back of them.
They had spent nearly three hours in the forest and had penetrated a distance of fully four miles.
“This will be enough trees to start with,” the Brazilian said, stopping. “I have spotted two hundred and fifty of them and they will keep you busy until you learn more about the work. After a while you can go as much further as you like. A good man works five or six hundred trees. But you will have your hands full with these now.”
“What do I have to do?” David asked. “How do you milk a rubber tree?”
“They are not milked,” the man replied with a superior air. “They are bled. We will take this one for an example. Watch what I do. Look closely and ask me any questions you want to.”
He took the long-handled ax and standing on the tips of his toes made a number of quick cuts in the bark as high up as he could reach. Two incisions were always made together to form a V, and the blade was not driven straight into the bark but at an angle so that the cut had slanting edges.
After encircling the tree-trunk with these marks—about ten inches apart, the ring of them being over ten feet above the ground, the man stopped to explain their purpose. They were made merely to stimulate the flow of sap or latex. Each cut was a wound to the tree; it would rush a stream of sap to the spot to cleanse it, keep out insects and dust and to seal it until it could grow together again. That was nature’s way of protecting the tree when it was injured and while healing was in progress.
If the tree were wounded in too many places at the same time it would be unable to cope with the situation and would die of the shock. But if the injuries were inflicted in gradually increasing numbers it would build up a strong defense by storing a large quantity of sap, ready to be rushed to any part of the trunk to clean new abrasions and protect them so soon as they were inflicted.
Three or four days would be required to bring about this state of affairs in most cases, although in some trees it would take a week.
That would be David’s first task—to make circles of incisions each morning to stimulate the trees to action.
Next, he was told the rules that had to be observed in tapping the trees. The cuts must be ten inches apart and each new ring must be ten inches below the last one. Also, the position of each incision had to be halfway between those above, so that two days’ work would look like this
V V V V
Only one other thing remained to be told. No tree was to be disturbed unless it had a circumference of six spans half a meter above the ground.
When, on the fourth or fifth day, the milk began to flow in quantity sufficient to be collected, a strip of tough palm midrib was tied around the trunk near the base. One side was pushed down a few inches; when the milk ran down the trunk it was stopped by the girdle and flowing along it soon reached the lowest part where a large leaf folded into a cone was suspended to receive it.
It all looked very simple and David was sure he would have no trouble in following the instructions given him. On the return journey he snapped twigs continually so that he could easily find his way over the same route the next day.
He was back on the trail early, starting at the same time as the others, who branched away in all directions. The long-handled ax was in his hands and the revolver, which he now always carried, was in its holster at his side. Most of the men had a firearm of some kind; others had bows and arrows, in the use of which they were proficient, having learned the art from the Indians.
There was no trouble in picking up the trail of the previous day, and the bent twigs with the silvery under side of the leaves showing plainly, made it easy to follow the route that had been selected for him.
As he came to each rubber tree he stopped and made the circle of V-shaped cuts so high up as he could reach with the ax. It was still early when he finished and began the homeward walk. The forest was strangely silent save for the call of an occasional bird in the distance.
As he was covering his route for the second time he noticed that the cuts he had made the day before were covered with beads and rivulets of whitish gum. Some of it had trickled down a few inches on the trunk before hardening. That was encouraging and he hastened to make the second ring of incisions below the first.
This was continued daily for a period of five days and by that time the sap was flowing so abundantly that the ground at the foot of the trees was covered with it. The girdles and leaf-cups were now put in position and it was with a feeling of eagerness that David started on his journey the following morning, this time carrying a large tin pail in addition to the ax.
Each folded leaf contained from one to two ounces of the milky sap. They were emptied into the bucket and the leaves were replaced at the lowest part of the belt. New cuts were made in the trees for the next day’s supply.
When Jones reached the end of his line the pail was nearly full and he had to walk carefully in order not to spill any of the precious fluid. Also, it was very heavy. As he walked along slowly, an idea came to him. Why had he begun to collect the milk at the near end of the trail? That meant carrying the filled pail all the way back! By starting at the far end the pail would not be full until he was nearly back in camp and so the carry would be a short one.
After the midday meal, which was most uninviting as it consisted of the eternal dried beef, rice and beans, all boiled together so that they formed a thick, brown mass, he went to one of the smokehouses to prepare his day’s catch.
This structure, like the others used for the purpose, was almost entirely enclosed; that is, the palm leaves, of which the roof was composed, hung down in a ragged fringe until they touched the ground. The ends were closed with other leaves fastened to cross pieces of bamboo. There was only one small opening that served as a doorway, but light entered the interior through the numerous little holes between the leaves.
The smoke was so dense that at first David could see nothing. His eyes began to smart and tears rolled down his cheeks. The smoke threatened to suffocate him and, coughing violently, he began to grope blindly for the doorway.
“Stoop down, caboclo,” someone called to him and he obeyed mechanically. The air was clear lower down; in fact, the smoke hovered in a thick cloud near the top of the structure, its lower edge four feet above the earth floor.
David had recognized the voice that had called to him. It was Miguel’s. And the word caboclo meant a sort of worthless fellow and was always used derisively. But he was in no condition to resent the insult just then, so pretended not to have noticed it.
When his eyes had cleared he could make out a number of men squatting near their smudges, each engaged in smoking his day’s harvest of rubber sap. There being several unused fireplaces he went to one of them and set down his pail. Then he went to one of the men—one he had taught to swim and dive, and asked questions, watching him proceed with his work the while. The process was a very simple one, so he soon returned to his place, started a fire between the stones and when the dry sticks were blazing he placed upon them several of the large palm nuts used to produce the smudge.
Soon the smoke was rolling upward in a broad, white column; then he placed one of the tall, cone-shaped tins over it so that it now poured out of the opening in the pointed end in a small though dense stream.
The milk was emptied into a wide, shallow pan. A pole five feet long and having a circumference of six inches was suspended by one end from the rafters with a strong cord. He took the loose end in one hand, swung the pole over the pan, dipped up some of the milk with a gourd dipper and poured it over the central part of the pole. A good deal of it adhered to the wood but the greater part of it ran down again into the pan. Then he quickly swung the pole so that the part covered with sap was directly over the tin cone; the acrid smoke pouring out of it instantly converted the milk into rubber by congealing and darkening it.
In a short time he became very proficient in the operation. The pole was kept swinging back and forth constantly; when it was above the pan it received a fresh coat of milk and when it swung over the smoke a new, thin layer of rubber was formed.
It took several hours to prepare his morning’s catch. The novelty of the work made it interesting, at first. After that it was nothing but a monotonous, mechanical grind and David was glad when the last drops had been scooped out of the pan and added to the slowly forming ball on the pole. All the others had finished their work long before that time and were lolling about camp.
David went to his quarters for his lasso. There were still several hours before nightfall and he would use them in practice with the rope; it was absolutely necessary that he become expert in its use before returning to the ranch.
Again and again the coil was swung over his head and sent speeding at a conveniently situated stump that served as a target. More often than not the loop fell wide of the mark. He was so engrossed in his occupation that he had not noticed the little group of men that had gathered to watch his efforts.
“He will never learn anything. Just look at that! missed it four meters.” David knew that the voice belonged to Miguel, without turning to look at the speaker. “I told you he was a caboclo,” the latter continued.
David pretended not to hear. He whipped up the noose with a snap and prepared it for another throw.
“And he’s worse than that. If anybody called me a caboclo I’d fight.” Miguel had been encouraged by David’s silence and was adding insult to injury.
That was too much for David. He dropped the rope and in a few quick strides reached the man who had so openly challenged him.
“Look here,” he said very quietly, “don’t you ever get the idea that I’m afraid of you—or anyone else either. This is not the first time you tried to make trouble; but it’s going to be the last time. Understand?”
The even tones deceived Miguel. The only kind of fighting he knew was always preceded by loud, fiery arguments. The American was clearly evading the issue.
“Well,” he said with a sneer, “what are you going to do about it?”
“This!” David’s right fist shot out like a bolt and sent the troublemaker flat on his back.
CHAPTER XII
A BATTLE WITH A CROCODILE
A gasp escaped the circle of onlookers as Miguel struck the ground. And the first feeling of surprise was followed by one of expectancy, of curiosity to see what would happen next. According to the rules of the game as they knew it David should have immediately pounced upon the prostrate man and given him a good mauling, but he did nothing of the sort. That puzzled them.
He stood over him, however, with clenched fists, ready for instant action when Miguel regained his feet.
After a moment the man opened his eyes.
“Now take back what you said,” David demanded.
“I was only joking,” Miguel answered, rising to a sitting position and holding one hand to his head.
“Well, I was not joking,” David replied. “You know that by this time. I was in dead earnest. I’ve stood for a good many things to keep from hurting anybody, but there’s a limit. Take back your words or you won’t stay on your feet very long when you get up. I’ll knock you down every time you try it. What you’ve had so far is only a sample.”
The man looked appealingly to the circle of his companions. But the look in their faces gave him no encouragement to expect help in that direction. First one, then another face was scrutinized. The onlookers, if anything, were afraid the fight would stop too soon; they wanted to see more of it.
“Hurry up!” David’s voice rang out clear and sharp. “Do what I told you to unless you want to spend the whole afternoon down in the dirt.”
“I said I was only joking,” Miguel persisted. “I said I didn’t mean anything.” He stopped short.
“All right. And I said I am not joking. Now continue. Say you’re sorry and take it all back.”
After a short hesitation the man did as he was directed.
“Now get up,” David said. “I’m sorry, too, I had to hurt you and I hope it won’t be necessary to do it again. It depends on you.”
Picking up his rope he continued his occupation as unconcernedly as if nothing had happened.
Miguel got up and walked toward one of the huts. The others, however, remained, watching David’s efforts and giving him a good deal of helpful advice which he was glad to have.
Day after day the work of collecting the rubber sap continued. The unvaried nature of the work was monotonous. Each morning David tramped up the long trail to its end and then went slowly homeward emptying the little leaf-cups into his pail and cutting new gashes into the trees as he went. The flow was increasing steadily and was of excellent quality. As a result of this the ball of rubber on the stick in the smokehouse grew rapidly. Each day’s work added another layer to the rapidly accumulating mass.
The men, so it was said, received the equivalent of ten cents a pound for the rubber they collected. And as David was now adding not less than twenty pounds a day to his lot, it was amounting up rapidly.
In covering his route one day he found that instead of the white liquid he had expected to find, many of the cups were filled with little cakes of a tough cheesy consistency and of a grayish color. He could not account for the sudden change. Removing one of the cups he pulled away the leaf in fragments, revealing the little cake in its entirety, and puzzled over it for some time. There was nothing to do but to collect the masses and replace the leaf-cups with new ones. Those containers that held latex as it should be were emptied into the pail. David removed his shirt and used it for a bag in which to carry the chunks of congealed substance.
This took more time than usual and it was well past the noon hour when he reached camp. The men were in the smokehouses, busy with their occupation. It had occurred to David that the condition of his catch might be the result of some change in the weather, but when he saw the others with their pans of snowy liquid he knew that there must be some other reason.
Dom Carlos, the foreman, happened to be in the hut when he entered. He was in his usual ugly mood and glared at David as he emptied the contents of his shirt on the floor.
“What have you got there?” he called in a loud voice.
“I don’t know what caused it,” David began, while some of the men started to laugh, “but it was nearly all like this today. I thought maybe it was the heat caused it.”
“Who do you think I am, to try to give me such an excuse?” Carlos bellowed. “The heat! The heat! It must have affected you but not the rubber. It’s your own laziness spoiled it. You’ve wasted a day of your employer’s time and a lot of his property. Do you realize that?”
David did not like being called down before all the others and he could hardly keep from expressing his feelings in a forcible manner. But upon second thought he suppressed the impulse. Perhaps the man was trying to pick a fight.
“What’s the reason for it?” he asked. “Why did the milk get hard like that?”
“Dirt, of course. You’ve been using the same old cups every day when you should make new ones at least every third day.”
“What do you want done with this? Isn’t it worth anything?” David asked.
“Throw it into the scrap heap. The boss is entitled to all the rubber on his property, and if anyone wastes it, as you have done, he suffers a loss. But I’ll see that he doesn’t lose anything in this case. I’ll charge it against your work,” the foreman said in an angry manner.
That part did not trouble David greatly. He was not counting so much on earning money as on winning the good will of everyone around him. So he made no reply.
Having nothing to do that afternoon, after the small quantity of good sap had been prepared, he spent the time with his lasso. It was remarkable how quickly one could become fairly proficient through constant, earnest practice. He could now swing the rope easily and hurl it accurately. If he continued to show improvement at the present rate he would be well able to hold his own when they returned to the ranch.
“I believe in making hay while the sun shines,” he thought, “then after I’ve won my spurs in the bush it will be easier to get along at Las Palmas.”
The next morning the contents of most of the cups were found to be in the same condition as on the previous day. After examining a number of the little, tough cakes David came to the conclusion that no matter what caused the trouble, he was not responsible for it. The cups were clean, for they were new ones. And the milk that trickled from the cuts was as it should be; it was only after it reached the little containers that it quickly coagulated. No! It was not his fault and not the fault of the trees; they had not soured overnight. Someone had visited his route and had tampered with his work.
First he would try to find out what had been done and the next step would be to discover the guilty party.
He took one of the small cakes and examined it carefully. The exterior was perfectly smooth. Then he cut it in half and looked at the texture of the interior of the mass. It did not differ from the outside. Not satisfied with this finding he divided one of the halves and when the knife had gone into it a little ways it scraped against some hard substance near the bottom. It was a large, black ant and he had cut it in two.
That might be a clew as to what caused the difficulty. Acting on a sudden impulse he smelled of the pieces in his hand. There was a strong odor of acid, not unfamiliar to him.
“Formic acid, of course,” he said half aloud. “Ants are full of it. It’s strong enough to curdle almost anything.”
The presence of the ant seemed to explain the condition of the latex; but someone must have placed it there. It was possible that it had been attracted by the fluid and had fallen into it while drinking. But he did not recall having seen a single one at any time and if they were so plentiful that they invaded fully half his cups, it seemed that he must have observed them for they were of extraordinary size, being nearly an inch long.
David cut open one after another of the muffin-like pieces as he found them; each contained one or more of the ants. That fact confirmed his suspicions. Then he pulled out one of the insects and examined it minutely; and the first thing he saw was that it was headless. He cut and broke the mass of rubber into small bits, but the missing head could not be found. A hurried examination of a number of other pieces produced the same result. All the insects had been decapitated and were in about the center of the mass, indicating that they had been dropped into the cups some time after the sap began to flow—probably late in the afternoon.
The whole thing was perfectly clear to David now. After finishing his work in the smokehouse Miguel stole back over David’s trail with a supply of the ants he had gathered at some nest he had discovered and placed them in the containers. He recalled now that Miguel was always among the first to finish the smoking and often disappeared shortly after. Also, it was not surprising that he should want to have revenge on the person who had humiliated him.
David determined that he would feign ignorance of his discovery and trap the culprit at his game. He did not trouble to collect the coagulated masses, for they would only be thrown into the scrap heap, but tossed them aside and placed new cups into position.
That afternoon David was passing the time with his lasso, as usual; several of the men who had finished their task were watching him and offering advice when up walked Miguel.
The thrashing he had received rankled. He had lost prestige with the men; and he was determined to square the account.
David saw at a glance that Miguel was in an ugly mood and bent on starting trouble, but pretended not to notice him.
For a moment the Brazilian said nothing. But the look on his face as he watched David plainly showed the thoughts that were in his mind.
“That was wonderful,” he said finally and with a note of sarcasm in his voice, as David, throwing at one of the men who ran past, thus serving as a moving target, missed. “Keep it up and you’ll soon be foreman of the ranch.”
Strange to say, none of the men laughed. Their sympathy was entirely with David and this added to Miguel’s anger.
“And how about that fancy swimming you talked so much about?” he added.
“Who, me?” David seemed surprised. “I don’t remember saying anything about it.”
“I do, and I have witnesses. You said you would go anywhere I would.”
“All right. I’ll go any time you say.”
“The water is full of crocodiles. You won’t go in when you see them, and then they,” pointing to the others, “will see how brave you are. And if you do go in you’ll be eaten in a minute, because you can’t swim well enough to——”
“I’ll go at any time and place you say and I’ll do anything you will. Right now suits me. Now come on, or shut up,” David interrupted him hotly.
Miguel flushed and moved his feet uneasily, but there was now no getting out of it.
“The lagoon,” he said grimly. “We’ll go to the lagoon.”
“No, Miguel; not there.” One of the men stepped forward as if to stop him. “It is full of caimen and they are the largest and most savage of any place. Go to the river.”
“Get out of the way!” Miguel pushed him aside.
David had not even heard that there was a lagoon in the neighborhood, but followed his challenger as he walked away. Without fully realizing what he was doing he still retained hold of the rope. In his belt he had only the long brush knife each man carried; the revolver was in his hammock in the shack where he invariably placed it upon his return from the forest at noon.
The men who had been present followed the two in a straggling line. The thing that was about to happen might have a thrilling ending and they did not want to miss it.
Miguel took a trail that was new to David and walked rapidly through the semi-gloom of the heavy jungle. He was grimly silent. He realized the serious nature of the mission; he had spoken hastily and now regretted his conduct. But, much to his surprise, David had accepted promptly, and now, with the others following, there was nothing to do but see the thing through.
After half an hour’s walk, during which no one spoke, they reached a point where the forest grew thinner and the patches of sky showing through the branches ahead of them were larger. They were coming to the jungle’s end.
Then the trees were replaced by a growth of brush in scattered clumps and the ground was soggy underfoot. Ahead of them glistened a sheet of water fringed with reeds and grass. Here and there was a cluster of tall, feathery bamboo in which large, crested birds were fluttering and croaking. A number of tall herons, frightened from their places of concealment by the newcomers, flapped heavily across the opening, voicing their resentment in hoarse squawks.
A more desolate place would be hard to picture, but Miguel did not falter. He picked his way carefully over the muddy path and made straight for the lagoon, David not ten feet in back of him and the others bringing up the rear.
It happened so suddenly that at first David did not know what took place. Miguel was just rounding one of the dense clumps of bushes when he gave a wild cry of terror and sank down into the grass. There was a struggle of some kind going on. The tall blades beside the trail waved and crumpled; there was the sound of a heavy body thumping in the mud; and Miguel’s screams filled the air.
“Help! help! help! For heaven’s sake, help me!” he was calling frantically.
David thought the unfortunate man had been seized by a giant snake. He looked back to where the other men had been; they were fleeing down the trail for their lives and calling to him to follow them.
Just then Miguel’s head and shoulders appeared above the waving grass. He was clutching wildly at the stems and sprouts, but they either gave way or his grasp was broken by an irresistible force that was dragging him rapidly toward the lagoon.
David started for the man on a run; and then he saw that Miguel was in the clutches of a monster crocodile. The repulsive reptile had seized him by one foot and was moving away with surprising agility—so fast, in fact, that David could not hope to overtake it before it reached the muddy water.
Miguel’s position seemed hopeless; in a few moments he would be dragged to the bottom and drowned.
David’s mind was in a turmoil. His only weapon was the long knife in his belt, but that was useless at the moment. But there was the rope with which he had been toying when the trouble started and which was still in his hands. Almost before he realized what he was doing the noose was whirling over his head; the next instant it was soaring through the air, opening as it went, and as it sped on its way he prayed that it would find its mark.
By this time the crocodile had reached the bare, muddy flat bordering the water. In another moment it would disappear into the stagnant depths with its terror-stricken victim.
The rope flew after it with a whining sound and sent up a shower of thin mud as it struck. Then it lay limp. The noose had failed in its mission.
A cry of despair escaped David when he realized what had happened; and then a tug, a violent pull, brought him to his senses. Luckily he still had the end of the rope in his hands, but he soon found that he had not the strength to stop the rush of the great creature. He was as nothing compared to the powerful reptile, which pulled him along as if unconscious of any hindrance.
A clump of thick sprouts grew just off the trail to one side of him. They offered the one means of