CHAPTER XXVII
BRINGING DOWN AN OCELOT
The centipede scare had been almost too much for Hockley, and he hardly ate a mouthful of the breakfast which the others prepared.
“It’s a nasty country—I’m sorry I came here,” he told Mark. “I expected a better time.”
“Well you are here and that’s the end of it,” was the simple answer. “But perhaps things won’t be so bad after we get used to it.”
“I thought it would be like hunting in the mountains of Pennsylvania. I once went out there and had a fine time, bringing down small game and fishing for trout. But that awfully big jungle—” Hockley did not finish, but his look of fear was more impressive than words.
However, the breakfast passed off pleasantly enough and inside of an hour all the boys were at the river bank, baiting their hooks under the direction of Cubara, who told them that he had once made his living as a fisherman.
“I catch de fish in de mountains,” he said. “Sell dem to de gold miners. Da no take time to fish, so pay big price.”
“I suppose the miners don’t care to do anything but hunt for gold,” remarked Frank.
“Hunt, hunt, hunt, night an’ day,” was the answer. “Some go ’way up de big mountains, stay dare many, many moons, come back, no gold, all crazy.”
“Crazy!”
“Yes, crazy, stay alone so long, no want dat to fish for him. He crazy, maybe he kill!” And Cubara shrugged his bony shoulders.
“That’s a cheerful outlook for Andy Hume,” murmured Mark. “I sincerely hope he doesn’t go crazy through loneliness.”
“I have heard of such cases in our own country,” put in the professor. “Some miners went crazy during the gold fever in California, and only a few months ago I was reading in the newspapers of a prospector in Alaska who had gone insane through having lost himself in the mountains. It is no child’s play—this trying to make nature yield up her secrets.”
Fishing lasted all of the morning, and by noon they had twenty-odd specimens of the finny tribe in a pool of fresh water among the rocks. Most of the catch were of the perch variety, although somewhat different from the class usually found in our own streams.
“Haven’t run across any of those wonderful electric eels,” said Hockley. “I thought we’d be sure to be shocked to death,” he added, with a sniff.
“Electric eels not here,” said Cubara. “Take you to dem udder day maybe.”
“I want to go hunting first,” put in Sam. He was longing to shoot something big.
“We’ll go hunting this afternoon,” said the professor.
“I don’t care to go hunting,” said Hockley. “I’d rather take it easy to-day.”
“Very well, then, you may remain in camp with Cubara, Hockley.”
The dinner was rather a hasty one, and a short while later Professor Strong and four of the boys set out. Each was armed with a rifle or shotgun, and each carried some food for supper, should they not return until late.
The professor had had a long talk with the Indian regarding the game in the vicinity, and Cubara had told him where they were likely to find a number of peccaries, a wild animal common to many parts of Venezuela and one much sought after by the natives for food. The peccary is not unlike a wild hog in general appearance, and when full grown weighs from fifty to sixty pounds. They are very fierce when attacked and have short tusks which are as sharp as daggers.
The way was up the mountain side behind the camp, over tall rocks and around spots where the undergrowth was absolutely impenetrable. Overhead the sun shone down from a cloudless sky, yet under the gigantic trees not a ray was to be found, so thick was the foliage.
As they advanced the constant screeching of green parrots reached their ears, mingled with the distant pandemonium created by a tribe of howling monkeys.
“What a noise they make,” cried Darry. “I never heard such a racket in my life.”
“Those monkeys are the genuine ring-tail howling monkeys,” laughed the professor. “They are the pest of a hunter’s camp. When once they make up their mind to serenade you at night nothing short of a hurricane can stop them. Their howl, heard in the darkness, is the most mournful sound on earth, ten times worse than that of a dog baying at the moon.”
“Are they dangerous?” asked Sam.
“Not generally speaking, although you want to be careful of what you do to them. A shot from a gun will sometimes scatter them for an hour or so. But if you pick up a stone and hurl it at them, they will surely pick up other stones to hurl at you in return.”
In two hours they had covered a distance of several miles. Nothing had been seen of peccaries, and somewhat disheartened they came to a halt near the bank of a mountain torrent which, at that point, formed a pool several rods in extent.
“Hush!” said the professor suddenly. “Get down behind the bushes. There is a fine shot for all of us.”
They dropped down, and then gazed in the direction he pointed out. Sitting on some tall bushes overhanging the opposite side of the pool were a number of birds almost as large as wild turkeys. They were bluish in color, with a greenish tinge under the throat fading to white. On the head of each was a crest of yellow which looked like gold.
“What beauties!” murmured Sam.
“Ready, all of you,” came from the professor. “Take aim. Fire!”
The word was not yet out of his mouth when the birds became alarmed and started to rise. But at the volley two dropped into the water dead while two others fluttered helplessly among the trees. The professor and Mark ran after the latter and after some trouble put them to death and brought them in. In the meantime those in the pool were also secured.
“These birds are crested curassows, or hoccos,” said the professor. “Some of them are the color of those we have shot but the majority are black. They are very numerous in Venezuela, Guiana, and Brazil, and a great many people keep them as we do tame turkeys, and the meat is very much the same.”
“Hurrah for the turkey meat!” exclaimed Frank. “That will be a change from our fish diet.”
With the curassows slung over their backs they proceeded on their way, around the pool and up the mountain torrent, to where there was a small stretch of table-land. From this point they could obtain a clear view of the surrounding country for many miles.
“There is the Orinoco,” said Mark, pointing to the stream as it glistened in the sunlight. “But the hill is between us and our camp.”
On the table-land they brought down a score of birds, including a trogon, a beautiful creature of black, green and gold, with long, sweeping tail; a pair of birds of the sparrow-hawk variety; and several humming-birds.
“These humming-birds are called the ruby and topaz,” said Professor Strong. “They are hunted down by the thousands each year and are used in the decoration, principally, of ladies’ hats.”
“They are certainly pretty,” said Sam. “But what a shame to slaughter them in such a wholesale fashion.”
“All sorts of tropical birds are slaughtered merely for the purposes of the milliner,” went on the professor. “It is certainly a shame, but so long as the ladies demand feathers on their hats the slaughter will probably continue.”
Leaving the table-land they plunged again into the forest. The professor had found tracks which he felt certain belonged to some wild animals, and as they advanced each held his gun ready for use should the occasion require.
The occasion was not long in coming. Directly in front of them was a fallen tree, a veritable monarch of the forest, all of nine feet in diameter and with branches spreading in all directions. As they were making their way around the roots of this tree they heard a low snarl of rage and saw a wild beast not unlike a huge cat leap from the roots with another wild beast in its mouth.
Crack! went the professor’s rifle and the bullet hit the beast in the forepaw. At once it dropped its prey—an armadillo—and faced around with another snarl of rage more fierce than ever.
“He’s coming for us!” yelled Mark, and fired his own gun. But his aim was not true and the bullet merely grazed the beast’s tail.
By this time the ocelot—for such the animal proved to be—was up on the tree trunk, glaring directly down upon them. He was closer to Frank than to anyone else, and it looked as if he would leap upon the youth without further delay.
It must be confessed that Frank was badly frightened. But he did not lose his total presence of mind, and almost mechanically he lifted the shotgun he carried and blazed away. At the same time Sam and Darry fired, and between the three the ocelot was mortally wounded and rolled to the ground, growling and snarling in a fashion fearful to contemplate. Then the professor rushed in and with a shot at short range finished the beast.
“Say, but that was a close call all around,” came from Mark, when the excitement was over.
“That’s what it was,” returned Frank, breathing heavily. “I don’t want to get in such close quarters again. I thought sure he was going to nab me.”
The professor was much vexed that his first shot had not killed the ocelot. “I must be getting rusty in my shooting,” he said.
The armadillo was limping away on three legs, for the ocelot had bitten it severely through the hind quarters. But before it could get very far, Darry and Sam went after it and brought it low. Then they dragged it back by its tail and laid it beside the larger beast.
The ocelot was a beautiful specimen, measuring four feet from nose to tip of tail. It was of a greyish fawn color, with stripes and patches of black. The eyes were yellowish brown, full and round. The boys could well imagine how they might glitter in the darkness of night.
“This creature belongs to the leopard family,” said the professor, while reloading his rifle. “They are very powerful, and frequently attack animals twice their size. There are a number of varieties, and some go by the common name of tiger cats. The skins are very valuable for rugs and other purposes.”
“What about the meat?” questioned Darry.
“The natives eat the meat of almost every wild beast. Personally I have never tried ocelot steaks, although I have been told they are fairly good eating.”