They tramped on. David was now trailbreaker. They took turns at this for the vegetation was growing heavier constantly and the leader had to use his knife frequently to cut through the sprouts and creepers that disputed their way.
It was after cutting a path through one of the thickets that David caught sight of some living creature disappearing among the dense growth. He did not know what it was, for the glimpse had been a fleeting one, so he stopped to tell Miguel, but before he had finished the sentence an arrow tore its way through the leaves a few inches on one side of them.
They needed no further proof to tell them that the vanishing form had been that of an Indian. Dashing back over their trail they fled in a wide detour of the spot and then advanced more cautiously. There was no question but that the savage would take up the pursuit. And a long, quavering note like that of a forest dove that reached their ears was a signal to other Indians who must be in the neighborhood.
A second call, low and plaintive, came in answer to the first. It was directly in front of them. They dropped into the shadow between two buttressed roots of a giant tree just in time to see two nude savages appear and make their way stealthily toward the spot from which the first one had signalled.
“The forest is full of Indians,” Miguel whispered when they had disappeared. “They are calling one another for a discussion. Then they will try to catch us.”
“Let’s go, then. The bigger the start we have the harder it will be for them to find us,” David panted. “If we stay here they’re sure to catch us.”
“The river! The river!” Miguel whispered. “We must get to the river. Come on.”
They darted away at a rapid pace, making toward the roaring sound that was rapidly growing louder. The going was terrible. Instead of stopping to use the knife in clearing a path as before, they crashed through the dense clumps of dwarf bamboo, matted ferns and thick sprouts. The sharp thorns covering some of the growths slashed their clothing into ribbons and tore into their flesh; and more than once they fell to the ground when creepers, like steel wires, encircled their feet and tripped them.
The cooing voices of the Indians were not far behind them. Occasionally they heard the breaking of branches and the swishing of the leaves where the pursuing savages fought their way through the jungle. It was fortunate that the vegetation was so dense that they could not be seen and thus afford easy targets for the arrows of the forest men.
“It can’t be far now,” Miguel said encouragingly. The roar of the water had become so loud that he was compelled to shout to make himself heard.
David was too breathless from his exertions to talk, so he nodded his head in assent. They could not hear their pursuers now, but there was no doubt about their being hot on the trail, which they would not leave until the fugitives had been overtaken.
At last the two fought their way through the last living wall of green and stood on the brink of the river. They were a sorry sight, bleeding from numerous cuts and bruises, their clothing in shreds, and on the point of exhaustion.
Before them lay a deep gorge through which the river, of considerable size, rushed over a bed littered with huge boulders. There was no crossing the stream; even a boat would have been short-lived in the maelstrom that hissed and boiled a hundred feet below them.
They took in the situation at a glance, and it seemed as if they were in a worse dilemma than before. The Indians were approaching on one side, cutting off retreat, and the river prevented further flight in that direction.
There was no time to ponder the situation. Miguel peered over the embankment. Then, beckoning to David to follow, he slid over the edge, held to it for a moment and let go.
David looked down just in time to see his companion stop against a flat rock twenty feet below and in a moment he had landed by his side. Then followed a second drop into a clump of bushes; it was higher than the first but the springy boughs broke the force of the fall.
The remainder of the descent was easier. There was a slant to the wall down which they slid to the rocks on the very edge of the water.
A hasty survey of the situation showed that the sides of the gorge up-stream were the more precipitous; and the pathway on the margin of the seething flood was safer, so they started in that direction, clambering over the slippery boulders where a misstep meant a plunge into the water below. What they sought was a place where it would be impossible to be seen from above, and when this had been attained they stopped to rest.
Ahead of them was the marvellous spectacle of a cataract dashing over a series of steplike rocks and ending in a sheer fall ten feet or more in height.
The prospect was discouraging in spite of momentary safety. If they should turn downstream they would become easy marks for the Indians, who must have reached the brink of the gorge by that time; up-stream was the wall of roaring water, but toward it they went.
“Come,” David shouted to Miguel, who was close at his heels. “I want to see the falls and—and—what’s under them.”
Miguel did not understand the meaning of the words but when they were abreast of the curtain of water he saw the facts at a glance.
The falling body of crystal liquid did not, of course, hug closely the stone wall over which it rushed. The momentum of the water was so great that it carried it clear of the ledge a distance of several feet. It was just as David had expected, provided——
He crawled close to the edge of the fall and then gave a shout that Miguel heard even above the rumble that was all but deafening.
At the base of any cataract one may find either of two things: a deep pool of whirling water or a mass of shattered rock fragments that has broken off the ledge above and lodged against the base of the wall. The latter is what David hoped to find and it is what he found.
A ridge of splintered rock stretched from the edge of the water into the mist so far under the fall as they could see. If it continued, unbroken, to the other side, it would afford a means of crossing the stream.
David ventured gingerly onto the jagged pathway. The stones were cold and wet and he had to crawl on hands and knees as there was not headroom to stand. So soon as he was well under way Miguel followed.
It was a terrifying experience, justified only by a desperate situation. The sheet of clear water, streaked with green, shot over the crouching men with a thunderous roar, intensified by the cavity in which they found themselves. A cold mist saturated their ragged clothing and chilled them through; also, the vapor soon shut off their view in the direction from which they had come, enveloping them in a clammy fog that shut out the daylight. Swallows left their nests that had been plastered against the face of the wall and dashed away in the gloom with frightened twitters. Below, the water raged and boiled and tongues crested with foam leaped angrily toward the men as if trying to drag them into the cauldron below.
Once David faltered; it seemed he could go no farther. But there was Miguel in back of him. He could not retreat and in so doing display a lack of courage before his companion. Hope for them lay in one direction only and that was straight ahead, even if at the same time it seemed to promise certain disaster.
After what seemed like ages the gray twilight in front of them brightened and a strong wind fanned the face of the foremost man. The end of the perilous journey was in sight. And soon they had emerged from under the river and stood on the rocks that flanked the side, drenched, cold and shivering.
“Thank heaven, we got through that all right,” David said between chattering teeth. “Do you think the Indians will follow?”
“They would if they knew where we went. We have to keep out of sight,” Miguel replied. “But they wouldn’t come under the fall; they would go downstream and cross.”
The two were compelled to remain in their present position until darkness came, screened from view of those on the other side by the clouds of mist that rose from the fall. They had an occasional glimpse, however, of the high bluff across the stream; it was dotted with the nude, brown forms of the savages, boldly outlined against the deep green vegetation.
They selected a route that appeared climbable and when darkness had fallen, clambered to the top. From this position directly across the gorge they saw waving, flickering lights like huge fireflies weaving in and out among the trees far up and down the river; the Indians had lighted torches. They were mystified by the disappearance of the white men. But the search was still on and there was not the slightest indication that they had any intention of abandoning it.
CHAPTER XVII
THE TERROR OF THE ISLAND
David and Miguel spent the night in the thick growth into which they had fought their way upon the coming of darkness. Their narrow escape from the savages; the long vigil in the bamboo clump; the day and two nights without food; and the uncertainty of their present plight, all combined to bring about a state of exhaustion that should have induced sleep so soon as they became convinced that the pursuit was not likely to extend to their side of the river.
Sleep, however, did not come. The night was cold; it was the first warning of the coming change of seasons and the two men were numb long before the sun rose to dispel the chill gloom that had enveloped them.
Daylight showed their surroundings to be not materially different from the ones they had just left on the other side of the river. There were the same kinds of trees, the same matted, thorny undergrowth; but the tangle was even denser—more nearly impenetrable.
“Let’s start a fire,” David said, shaking and trembling with the cold.
“No,” Miguel answered. His teeth, too, were rattling. “Not here, on account of the smoke; the Indians would see it.”
“Indians or no Indians, I’m freezing,” David protested.
“We’ll start walking right away. That will warm us up. The sun is coming up, too. Soon it will be hot.”
They began to battle their way through the thickets and before long were perspiring from their exertions. The growth was generally so difficult to penetrate that they made slow progress.
In one of the more open places they came upon a pair of large forest partridges; they were nearly the size of hens. Also they were stupid birds, and after Miguel had shot one of them the other remained looking at the men in curiosity, until a second arrow added it to their bag.
“We ought to be far below the fall now,” David suggested. “Let’s go to the water; it might be easier walking. We can look across first to see if the Indians have come down this far.”
Miguel offered no objection, so they made their way to the edge of the stream. They waited in hiding for some time but saw no sign of the savages. Far up the river, however, a cloud of smoke was ascending high above the treetops. The brown men of the forest had started fires in the hope of driving them out of their place of concealment.
“It’s all right,” Miguel said, gazing intently at the smoke. “They’re still over there looking for us. They think we climbed a tree and are trying to smoke us out. We can go on.”
The abrupt walls of the gorge on their side of the river were breaking down rapidly; on the other side they still towered high above the turbulent water.
Stone and sand terraces replaced the thick jungle from which they had just emerged. But the thing that puzzled them was that the land seemed to end in a point just ahead. There appeared to be water in front and on both sides of them.
Each looked at the other in silent apprehension, but not a word was spoken. They hastened down the open strip of land to its termination and then their fears were verified.
A roaring rapid surged past on each side and met in front to form one broad, even more treacherous stream that sped away below. They were on an island. With this realization came also the knowledge that there was no escape from their present position, for no raft could long survive in the maelstrom that surrounded them.
They could return to the mainland, it is true, by way of the precarious path under the fall; but there were the Indians to be considered, who would not give up the search for days, perhaps, even knowing where the fugitives had gone and fully aware of the fact that they had to come back the same way or remain marooned on the island.
“Let’s cook the birds and eat,” David suggested. “I’m almost starved.”
“The same here,” Miguel assented. “Then we’ll sleep. I can’t think now. Nothing we can do will make the fix we’re in any worse. So let’s eat and sleep. Tomorrow is another day.”
And when the sun was high in the heavens on the following day they awoke much refreshed. They followed the riverbank, going up-stream on the far side of the island, for it had occurred to them that they might not be stranded after all. The channel they had discovered was perhaps another river instead of a branch of the one they had crossed.
They walked close to the bank, for there the ground was open. When they had gone less than a mile, farther progress was blocked; they had reached the head of what was, after all, an island.
“It is an island, all right,” David said. “See where the stream divides and one side is as bad as the other.”
“We have to get off somehow,” Miguel returned, “because we can’t use a raft in that water. We have to reach the mainland and then walk down below the rapids. But how are we going to do it?”
“I’ll tell you,” David proposed; “how about crossing under the fall at night and slipping down the gorge. We can travel after dark and hide in the daytime until we’re too far away for the Indians to follow.”
Miguel, while not enthusiastic over the plan, could offer no other to take its place, so they made their way to the other side to have a good view of the lay of the land and to form their plans accordingly.
There were now no Indians in sight on the opposite bank, nor were there any signs of their presence. Therefore, they clambered down the side of the bluff to the edge of the waterfall.
The water had fallen a great deal since they had come across. Instead of the thick stream shooting far out over the ledge, there was now a greatly reduced volume, so that it fell in a cascade that closely hugged the rock wall. The passage underneath the fall was closed. Their one avenue of escape to the mainland was blocked.
“There’s only one thing to do,” Miguel said in disgust, “and that is to make ourselves as comfortable as possible until we can think of some way to get off the island or until something unexpected happens.”
David agreed that there was no other course to pursue, and the lower end of the island being the more open, they decided to make camp there. They cleared a small space in the edge of the jungle, cut four saplings for corner-posts and built a rather substantial shelter, covered with a layer of palm-leaves on top and on all four sides, leaving only one opening for a doorway. Bunks were arranged along the walls and a fireplace built in front, of stones brought up from the riverbank.
The domicile was designedly of sturdy construction for they did not know how long they would be compelled to occupy it.
Then followed two days devoted to a thorough exploration of the island. It was small, not over three-quarters of a mile long, and less than a third as wide. Birds of many species were abundant and there was no difficulty in procuring all the meat that was needed. But there were no mammals of any size; if there had been monkeys in the tree-tops, or deer, tapirs or peccaries in the forest they soon should have found them, or at least seen traces of their presence. The turbulent character of the water surrounding them accounted for this. The birds, of course, could fly across, but no mammal could swim across the barrier of agitated water.
On the second night after they had built the hut, David awoke with a start. The awakening was so sudden that he felt there must be a reason for it, although there was not a sound upon the still, cool air. However, a disagreeable odor filled the room. He lay quietly for some minutes with the uncanny feeling that he was being watched by some living creature and that, too, from no great distance.
David knew that the best policy under such circumstances, was to remain perfectly motionless. A sudden move might invite attack.
As he waited, wondering what could be the cause of his presentiment, Miguel suddenly sat up.
“I can’t stand it any longer,” he cried. “There’s——”
The sentence remained unfinished. His words were drowned by a rustling, creaking noise and the hut shook as if about to collapse. A moment later they heard the sound of a heavy body rushing away through the jungle.
“Good heavens,” David exclaimed in consternation. “What can it be? There are no animals on the island. Let’s start a fire.”
Miguel was so frightened he could hardly move.
“I don’t know,” he whispered, “unless it is the evil one himself.”
“It was something a lot more real than that. But what?” David replied.
They started a fire and remained near it the remainder of the night, discussing their strange visitor, but reaching no conclusion as to what it could have been.
Daylight revealed the fact that their shelter had been badly battered. They searched the ground for foot-prints but found none. There was not the slightest clue to give any intimation of the solution of the mystery.
After a hasty breakfast, they started on a systematic search of the island, cutting a number of straight trails across from one side to the other, but still they found not the least sign of the presence of an animal of any kind. However, Miguel did discover a species of palm, the large terminal bud of which was delicious eaten raw, and another kind of the same trees which gave quantities of white sap or milk of fine flavor; they had only to tap it in the fashion of a rubber tree. These two articles were a most welcome addition to their food supply of meat that had begun to pall. Also, they provided the vegetable matter so necessary to their well-being.
That night the men took turns in watching throughout the hours of darkness, but the nocturnal prowler did not return. They supposed, therefore, that they had frightened the creature away, whatever it could have been, and this thought afforded them a measure of relief.
“I’ll tell you what we could do,” David said the following morning. “We could get material together for a raft and start to build it. It will keep us occupied and perhaps we can make one strong enough to run the rapids without breaking apart.”
Miguel shook his head. “Impossible,” he said. “No raft or boat of any kind could do it. Look at the rocks; look at the whirlpools; look at the swift current. There might even be more falls below. But we can make one anyway. It will keep us busy, and—say, I just thought of something. In the rainy season, when the water is high, there won’t be any rapids, or at least they will be only very mild, and we could use the raft then.”
David could have shouted for joy. Now that Miguel had mentioned it, he, too, realized that higher water would cover the rocks and obliterate the narrow, angry channels between them as well as blot out the whirlpools.
They lost no time in starting to collect material for their craft. First, they selected a clump of tall, feathery bamboo near the water’s edge and began to cut down the stems. Each pole was upward of forty feet long and six inches thick; and, as the joints of which they were composed were filled with water, they had to tap each one to permit the liquid to drain; otherwise they would be too heavy to float. The afternoon was half over when they began the latter task.
“How about getting something for supper?” David asked. “This job makes me feel as if I could eat a dozen partridges.”
“And me,” Miguel agreed, “and a few palm buds and a liter of milk, too.”
The two started away, stealthily following one of the narrow trails they had made and had no difficulty in securing a number of the stupid tinamou that were so plentiful. To collect the palm buds and milk required a greater length of time, and darkness had fallen when they retraced their steps to camp. However, a full moon, high in the heavens, sent soft shafts of light through the branches overhead, where the jungle was less dense; and when they reached the edge of the forest where their camp was located, a flood of silvery moonlight met their eyes.
“Santo Paulo! Our house is gone!” It was Miguel’s voice, filled with consternation. He was in the lead and had stopped suddenly, hands raised in horror at the unexpected sight.
“Gone?” David pushed forward, incredulous that such a thing could have happened. “It can’t be gone because there was no wind to blow it away.”
“But it is gone. Look! Where is it?” Miguel was still standing where he had stopped.
“We must be in the wrong place, but, no, this is the spot.” David was puzzled. He approached cautiously.
“It’s been broken down to the ground,” he exclaimed. “Somebody or something has been here while we were away.”
They dared not advance into the clearing where the shelter had stood because there was the possibility that their marauding visitor was in the neighborhood, awaiting their return. But from their position they could see that the structure had been crushed to the earth and completely wrecked, as if by men or some gigantic animal.
After watching a while they returned to the heavier forest to spend the night.
“I told you it was a spirit,” Miguel insisted, “when it visited us that first night. Now do you believe it?”
“No, I don’t.”
“Then what is it?”
“I don’t know, but we’ll find out.”
They rebuilt the hut on the same spot. The island was so small that one place was as good as another and the old location possessed the advantage of having been cleared of underbrush.
The remainder of the day had been spent collecting material for the raft. After the water had drained out of the bamboo poles the holes had to be sealed with gum taken from trees. After that the light, buoyant stems had to be fastened together to form the raft and having no nails it was necessary to tie them together. Only one material was available for the purpose and that was bark.
They gathered armfuls of the long, shaggy fiber that hung like a fringe from the trunks of the chiqui-chiqui palms and placed them in a heap near the hut. By the time sufficient of the material had been collected it was too late to begin braiding it into ropes.
After a supper of the usual fare the two concealed themselves in the edge of the forest to watch for the possible return of their unwelcome visitor.
Hour after hour passed, but there was no disturbance of any kind. It was evident that they were not to be molested that night, so they returned to the shelter.
No sooner had Miguel entered the doorway than he gave a shriek and darted out again. He staggered a few steps and fell headlong to the ground.
David picked up the limp form of his companion and carried it toward the open beach, but the man recovered and struggled to his feet.
“Oh!” he gasped. “It’s in there now. It almost got me.”
David tried to find out what it was Miguel had seen, but the latter talked incoherently so that it was impossible to make out the meaning of his words. He thought that his companion was greatly exaggerating the truth; perhaps he had seen nothing at all and had merely imagined the presence of some weird being conjured by his superstitious mind. He would decide the matter by going to see for himself. To strengthen the latter conclusion, nothing had come out of the hut and there was no sound within.
David drew his revolver and held it in readiness for instant action. Then he lighted a bunch of the palm fiber and holding it aloft, went slowly toward the structure.
When he reached the doorway he thrust the flaming torch in first and raised it above his head. The glare lighted up the interior of the small room, but for a moment only.
David stood paralyzed in his tracks when he saw the thing that had invaded their domicile. From the center of the palm-leaf thatch that formed the ceiling and drooping almost to the ground were the head and part of the body of an enormous snake. It hung suspended in space, as motionless as if carved out of variegated marble. As he looked in horror, the great reptile raised its massive head slowly, at the same time drawing it back like a bent spring, as if to strike. Its beady eyes were fixed on those of the man and the forked tongue moved rapidly in and out of its mouth. As it did this it emitted a long hiss that sounded like a jet of escaping steam.
David recovered his senses in a flash. He would have to act quickly. If the reptile’s head shot forward it would knock him down like the blow of a battering ram.
Without moving the flaming torch, he raised his right hand slowly and took careful aim at the great head not two yards away, his finger tightening on the trigger until the slightest further pressure would cause its release. Then came a flash and a deafening crack. He dropped the blazing fagot and ran out upon the open bank where Miguel was sitting, still too dazed for speech.
When he stopped he became aware of a thrashing noise, coming from the direction of the hut; then the entire structure fell with a crash—on top of the bunch of palm fiber now flickering its last.
Soon little tongues of fire leaped up, lapping eagerly at the dry leaves of which their shelter had been composed. In a moment the entire heap was a mass of flames that lighted up the scene as bright as day. And in the midst of the conflagration he saw the writhing, lashing coils of the giant serpent that did not cease their movements, even after the fire had died down to a pile of feebly glowing embers.
CHAPTER XVIII
WHEN THE WATER RAN HIGH
The two men had watched the burning of their hut until the last flickering blaze had died; Miguel as in a trance, and David spellbound by the sight. The loss of their abode, while causing them some inconvenience, was not a calamity, for they easily could build another. The visits of the great snake, however, was another matter.
“The sucurujú never lives alone,” Miguel said finally when he had recovered from the shock of his experience. They were watching the huge coils writhe in the glowing embers.
“What do you mean?” David asked.
“There are always a pair together. When one goes out and remains away any length of time the other one goes to look for it. And if you kill one of them, the other will follow you until it has avenged its mate.”
“Then you think there is another snake around here?”
“Yes,” Miguel said. “We had better not stay at this end of the island tonight.”
“The thing that puzzles me, is where did this monster come from?” David said. “I can understand now why the creature that visited our hut did not leave tracks, but I don’t see how we could have overlooked it in walking about the island. It is so big we couldn’t have missed it unless it lived in a cave, and—there are no caves.”
“Anacondas live in holes in the riverbank,” Miguel explained. “That’s why we didn’t see this one. It came up from the water while we were watching in the forest. And the other is liable to be along any minute, so we had better go.”
Early the next morning they went back to the ruins of their hut to inspect the snake. They found it, a mound of shimmering color, near the pile of ashes and it was, of course, dead. David’s shot had struck it fairly in the head. It was of a greenish brown color with small black spots and mottlings on its back. When, after a good deal of tugging they succeeded in straightening it on the ground and paced the distance from head to tail, they found that it was in the neighborhood of thirty-two feet long. The weight, they estimated, was not less than three hundred pounds, for it had a girth of over two feet in the thickest part of its body and was very heavy.
“I wish we could save the skin,” David said, regretfully, “but we can’t cure it and it’s too cumbersome to carry.”
Miguel tried to lessen his disappointment. “It’s all scorched and burned anyway. I’m glad it didn’t get us; it could have crushed us into jelly in a moment.”
“What about the other one?” David asked.
The Brazilian looked around uneasily.
“Let’s get busy on the raft,” he said. “One snake is enough for me. We might not be so lucky another time.”
It required two more days to complete the raft. They rolled and pushed the bamboo poles to the very edge of the water and then began the work of constructing their craft. First they spread a layer of the bamboos on the ground; then they bound them together securely with the fiber rope, weaving the cables back and forth, until they had what resembled a huge mat. Upon this they placed a second layer across the first and fastened it into place. A third was carefully tied on top of this and after that a fourth.
The raft was two feet thick when it was finished. It had a length of twenty feet and a width of eight; they felt sure that it was ample to carry their weight without submerging to the level of the water. When it was finished they cut stout poles and using them as levers, pried it into the stream, and tied it with one of the ropes.
“The water is rising,” Miguel announced joyfully. “If it keeps up until morning we can start.”
David looked down the angry stretch in front of them. Many of the rocks that had protruded above the surface were now submerged. Patches of rolling, oily-looking water marked the spots where they were concealed. On a whole, the river was still a swirling, roaring flood that only the direst necessity could induce anyone to navigate. But there must be no hesitation, no delay. A single day lost might mean the falling of the water and the restoration of the cataracts to their former fury.
These thoughts came to both men as they surveyed the craft upon the behavior of which their lives depended, and then gazed at the stream to whose whims they would be exposed before the passing of many hours. And the same thoughts recurred to them more forcibly the next morning, when they hastened to the water’s edge with a feeling of eagerness tempered with many misgivings. The raft was gone.
The men looked at one another in dismay; and also at the raging, hissing river that seemed to mock them in their misfortune.
“It’s awful,” David said at last. “The rope snapped and the raft is lost.”
Miguel sat down on the sand and covered his face with his hands.
“It was our last chance.” He was almost sobbing. “And now that’s gone.”
David, too, was far from cheerful. Their hopes had been dashed to pieces; their enthusiasm had been killed; their work had been for nothing. Once again fate, in the guise of the merciless river, had conspired against them. The strain under which they had labored began to make itself felt. They could endure but so much and the limit was in sight.
“Say, this will never do.” The speaker was David. He had regained mastery over himself. “Our chance is as good as it ever was. We can make another raft. Maybe it’s a good thing this one broke away. We must make the ropes stronger. It is a warning to us.”
Miguel looked up, and, encouraged, David continued in a cheerful manner.
“It won’t take so long this time either, because we know how to go about it. And listen, the water may continue to rise and then the going will be better than ever.”
“It may fall, too,” Miguel ventured half-heartedly.
“Of course. If it does, we’ll just have to wait. It will have to rise again sometime. There’s enough to eat here, so why should we worry?”
It was three days later that the second raft was ready. This time they did not launch it until the morning of the start. The water had fallen somewhat but after a thorough discussion of the matter, they decided to chance the passage through the rapids. They loaded their small stock of meat and palm buds, tied the packages down securely, stepped aboard the floating platform and pushed away from the bank.
The raft drifted slowly and steadily toward the center of the stream. Then the currents, coming from each side, caught it, carrying it along at a rapidly increasing rate of speed until they were flying along at a terrific pace.
So far the water had been fairly smooth though swift. But ahead of them was a ruffled stretch, the surface dotted with rocks that showed a few inches of their height while the angry waves and back-washes told of other, invisible obstructions of a still more formidable nature.
The raft began to lurch so violently that its two occupants lost their footing and fell flat on the ribbed surface. There they clung while the floating platform spun and tossed madly at the mercy of the flood, for the two men were now powerless to steady it with the long poles they had carried for that purpose. Grating noises told them when they scraped over partly submerged obstacles and there was an occasional shock and sudden halt when they collided with rocks. But the current always swung the raft to one side and swept it away in its thundering embrace.
The two men, hanging on for their lives, could not speak to one another because the roar of the water drowned the sound of their voices. Showers of spray dashed over them as they plunged down the terraces of cascades, but the raft always bobbed up again after the leaps and its laminated construction made it staunch enough to withstand the frightful strain to which it was subjected.
After a half hour’s race down the agitated stream the water became calmer and the current slackened. The raft now drifted lazily on the broad expanse and the men regained their feet, glad of the relief afforded them from their strained position. The poles they had used were gone.
“We had better land and cut new ones,” Miguel said, calling attention to their loss. “Without them we’ll simply drift along and not get anywhere.”
David agreed that this was the proper thing to do. There was now but one way to propel their craft; that was to lie flat and paddle with their hands.
They soon found, however, that their efforts had little effect on the large, cumbersome raft. It responded so feebly that the result was barely noticeable. Then they both lay on the same side; this weighted down the edge they were on while it raised the other side out of the water. Their combined efforts, coupled with the position of the raft in the water, caused it to swing slightly toward the bank.
It was mid-afternoon when they finally touched land; the men were nearly exhausted. They pulled one end up on the shelving bank and tied it securely. Then they sat down to eat and to rest.
“We are this far, anyway,” David commented. “It isn’t very far, I know, but it’s a start and we’re away from the island. The raft behaved fine in the rapids. It will stand anything.”
“Yes,” Miguel agreed, “but we don’t know if we are going in the right direction. This river may never take us near camp.”
“All the rivers must find their way into the Amazon,” David insisted, “so we can’t go wrong.”
“Then we can just drift along. Everything will be all right in the end.” Miguel seemed filled with confidence.
His words carried a double meaning to David. He had done nothing but drift—from one thing to another—into one difficulty after the other, since reaching Brazil.
“Are you sure, Miguel,” he asked, “that everything will be all right in the end?”
“Yes, it always is. But it often takes a long time.”
At this point the subject of the conversation was changed abruptly, for appearing out of the forest on the other side of the river were a number of Indians—the very ones, no doubt, from whom they had so narrowly escaped.
The brown men were looking at them and waving their arms and the sound of their voices could be heard plainly across the wide expanse of the stream.
“They’re like wolves on the trail,” Miguel said. “They never give up. But they can’t get to us now. They have no canoes and the river is too broad to swim.”
“Then let’s wave back to them,” David said, standing up. He swung his arms and shouted at the top of his voice. The Indians began to show signs of excitement; they raced up and down the bank, jumped into the air and called more loudly than before.
“I don’t like their actions. I can’t think of a thing they can do now, but so soon as its dark we had better leave,” David suggested.
“You’re right,” Miguel agreed. “We can cut the poles now and get a few extra ones to tie on the raft so we can have them handy if we lose the ones we’re using.”
This task completed, they remained in hiding near the raft until after the sun had set. And all the while the savages on the opposite bank, in increasing numbers, continued their antics.
“Seems to me they could make a raft and come across,” said David, as they watched. He could observe them through the screen of vegetation behind which they were concealed.
“Some tribes never navigate the rivers. Others have canoes and seldom travel by land. Then there are still others who travel overland and when they reach a stream they want to cross, build a raft or make a wood-skin canoe which they abandon or sink after it has been used.”
“I hope those over there belong to the kind that don’t venture on the water,” David said.
“I think they do,” Miguel reassured him, “or they would have been over here before now.”
They boarded their raft in the concealing darkness and pushed downstream, remaining as near the bank as possible. As they drifted along, slowly at first, they felt the impatient tug of the current trying to hurry them toward the center of the stream.
“We could make better time if we went farther out,” Miguel said. “We are barely moving here and I don’t like to be scraping against the branches above.”
“Nor I,” David agreed.
They allowed the craft to follow the urge of the water and soon they were moving at a fast rate. This pleased them, because it meant rapidly increasing the distance between themselves and the savages they were leaving behind.
When the moon rose they saw that the raft had been swept to the center of the river. Use of the poles had been abandoned when the depth had become too great for them to reach the bottom.
“We’ll be in camp before many days at this rate,” David said hopefully. “See how fast we’re going?”
“Yes,” from Miguel, “but this is as fast as we ought to go. If the current gets much swifter we’ll have to land.”
“Why?” David asked in surprise. “We can’t get back too soon to suit me.”
“Nor me. But there may be rapids ahead. We don’t know the river, so can’t take too many chances at night. If it gets worse we’ll have to wait until daylight so we can see first what we are to go through.”
David made no reply, at first.
“We could hear them,” he said finally.
It was not long after that that they heard the faint, warning noise that meant trouble ahead. A muffled roar came to their ears; it rose and fell in swells of sound like the vibrations of a bell. It was so far away, however, they could scarcely hear it.
“You win, Miguel,” David said dejectedly.
“It’s always that way,” Miguel replied. “I win when I want to lose and I lose when I want to win. Let’s make for the bank and stay close to it until we reach the rapids.”
They dug the poles deep into the water and pushed with all their might. The raft responded gently to their efforts, but they knew it would drift downstream a great distance before reaching the bank.
Before they had gone very far they realized that the rapids must be nearer than they had supposed for the roar was growing louder each minute and seemed to come out of the night no great distance ahead.
Miguel was alarmed. “Faster,” he cried. “It’s just in front of us. We have to make the bank or we’re lost.”
David shouted assent. He looked at the dark wall of trees still a good hundred yards off. Then he bent to his task with more force than before.
In a few minutes it became obvious that their race was a doubtful one. The water surged and boiled as it rushed along at frightful speed and the raft began to lurch so that they could scarcely retain their footing, while the roar that now came to their ears was of thunderous volume.
“We can’t make it,” David shouted finally. He had just estimated the span of angry water that still separated them from the land.
“What will we do?” Miguel called in return.
“It sounds too dangerous to attempt—at night. What do you say?” he added as David made no reply.
“Wait!” David spoke quickly. “We can see a little way ahead and we can both swim.”
Rocks of large size now loomed up in the riverbed. Around them the water raged and hissed in fretful torrents. But still the men kept their places, and inch by inch the raft drew toward the forested bank as it raced in the grip of the flood.
David glanced up from time to time to appraise the water in front of them; its character would, of course, determine their course of action.
“Quick,” he shouted suddenly, “that rock. Make for it for all you’re worth,” pointing to a black mass that rose out of the seething water in front of them, but ten yards to one side.
Miguel did not know why his companion had come to the sudden conclusion that they should make for the rock; before, they had taken care to avoid obstructions of this kind. But there was no time to ask questions. He pulled with all the strength in his powerful frame in an effort to carry out the instructions that had been given him.
The thing David had seen was a thin veil of mist rising into the moonlit sky. That one glimpse had been enough, for it meant that there was a waterfall below the haze. There was just time for the shout of warning to Miguel; their only hope lay in gaining the rock.
They worked frantically, but soon it was apparent that the heavy raft could not be swung sufficiently to make the goal in the distance that separated them. Their position was desperate. They must gain the rock or be swept over the fall that now boomed with the rumble of thunder.
Caught in the swirling eddies, the raft began to pitch and roll so wildly they could no longer stay on their feet.
David grasped Miguel’s arm. The din made speech impossible. He pointed down to the water, then to the rock. The Brazilian understood and accepted the frightful challenge.
They sprang from the lurching platform and struck out boldly for the rock. The swift current bore them along like chips on a millrace; curling swells dashed over them and the roaring made their ears throb. But there was no turning back, no other course to pursue, and side by side they fought the treacherous torrent with powerful strokes.
The black mass loomed nearer and nearer; it was now but a few yards ahead. And almost before they realized it they had been washed upon a ledge and were crawling out of reach of the eager swell that rushed up after them.
As they gained their feet, trembling from the chill of the water and the effects of their terrifying experience, a dark object sped past the rock, still a number of yards away. They followed it with their eyes. It tossed and spun as it dashed down the river. They continued to watch it in silence, facinated by the awful sight.
It was their raft. Suddenly it seemed to pitch forward, and then stand on end; for a moment it hung suspended in space, the ragged ends of the bamboos of which it was made clearly outlined like a black fringe against the white curtain of mist. The bright moonlight lighted up the scene so clearly that they missed no detail of it.
Then the raft, still on end, slid downward and was gone. It had plunged over the brink of the fall.
“Oh!” It was Miguel. “Everything is lost. All our things were on it—my bow and arrows and your gun, too.”
“Yes,” David returned mournfully. “Everything we had is gone. But we’re all right, and that’s something to be thankful for.”
CHAPTER XIX
THE BROWN MEN OF THE JUNGLE
When daylight came, the two men cowering on the bare rock around which the turbulent water raged, were more appalled than ever at the realization of how narrowly they had escaped a terrible fate. The soft moonlight had concealed much that the bright sunlight revealed.
All about them were roaring cascades, whirlpools and rapids of a formidable character. Above, the stretch of water through which they had swum was nearly as bad. It was well that the mellow light had been deceptive, for it had hidden the real nature of the river and had made it appear much calmer than it really was; if David and Miguel had been able to see what was before them it is doubtful if they could have reached the rock.
Below, and not more than fifty yards distant, the stream seemed to end in a long, even line; it was the edge of the fall. They could not tell how far the sheet of water dropped, but the roar that came up from below sounded like booming thunder and the clouds of swirling mist rising high into the sky indicated that the distance of the plunge must be great.
The rock upon which the men were stranded was only fifty feet from the bank. Both were splendid swimmers. But one look at the narrow channel separating them from the land was enough to convince them that they could not cross to safety before being swept over the fall. To swim against the current in an effort to head up-stream was impossible. Their only hope had been to go with the water at the same time striking obliquely toward the shore; but that, too, was plainly out of the question.
They discussed their predicament in serious voices; but there was no way out of the difficulty, so far as they could see.
“We might as well be in the middle of the Amazon as right here,” Miguel said.
“I’d rather be in the middle of the ocean,” David replied. “Then a ship would be liable to come along to pick us up. Here nobody will find us.”
“No, because no one would be foolish enough to try to navigate this river as we did.”
“Suppose the Indians should come down this far?” David asked suddenly. “What easy marks we would be!”
“Let them come,” Miguel returned gloomily. “It would be quicker than drowning or starving.”
“Maybe so. But I’d like to have something to fight back with. We have nothing. Even the revolver is gone.”
The thought of the Indians may have come to them as a premonition, for the Indians did arrive not many hours after, and apparently they were the same ones who had been following and attempting to capture them.
As they were gazing with longing at the green walls of forest that grew down to the rocks bordering the water the thick curtain of foliage parted revealing the brown form of a savage.
“My heavens,” Miguel moaned, “they did find us. It’s all over now.”
“I’ve changed my mind,” David panted at about the same moment. “If they start shooting at us I’ll jump in and go over the fall; they might not be so high as we think and anyway, it’s a fighting chance. I won’t be shot like a trapped animal.”
“I’ll go, too,” Miguel said quickly. “I won’t let them shoot me either.”
They perched on the very edge of the rock, ready to make the plunge.
“Before we go,” said Miguel, as a peculiar look came over his face, “I want to tell you something; I tried to tell you before, but——”
“Not now,” David interrupted him. “There isn’t time and there’s too much noise. And I don’t feel that our end is in sight. I think I suspect, too, what you want to say.”
Miguel looked puzzled, but said no more.
Other savages joined the first on the bank, bows and arrows in their hands, but still there was no show of hostility. They only stared and chattered excitedly among themselves.
Then the group was joined by one who was apparently their chief. He pushed boldly to the front and came out into full view on the rocks. The newcomer towered a full head above the others and his powerful body looked like a bronze statue against the green background. In one hand he held a long bow, in the other, an arrow.
For a moment he stood motionless, looking steadily at the helpless men on the rock. Then he glanced up and down the river as if assuring himself that they could not escape.
David and Miguel, ready to jump, did not remove their eyes from him for a moment. Their hearts were pounding wildly and their breath came in gasps.
After surveying the situation a short time longer, the chief turned to the savages in back of him and asked a question to which they replied with shouts and many gestures. Then he turned and did a most surprising thing.
Again facing toward the two white men, he looked at them intently for a long time, then stooped and deliberately placed his bow on the rock on which he stood. Next, he grasped the arrow in both hands, snapped the shaft in two with a quick movement of his wrists and threw the pieces into the river. After that he extended his arms at full length toward David and Miguel.
This action startled the two so they nearly fell off the rock. They sat down, limp and helpless after the terrific ordeal to which they had been subjected.
“Does he mean it?” David asked weakly. “Isn’t it a scheme to capture us alive?”
“No!” Miguel, too, could barely make himself heard. “An Indian never goes back on his word. We are