salvation open to the man. David swerved around the growth and the drag on the line became less; and when he had encircled it there was scarcely any pull at all, for he had made a complete hitch around the stout stems, which now served as an unyielding anchor.
The crocodile had come to an abrupt halt. It lashed its tail from side to side and writhed in its efforts to free itself from the grip of the rope that encircled one of its legs; but it still clung tenaciously to the man, unwilling to release him when but a few steps separated it from its element.
David worked with frantic haste. He tied the end of the rope to one of the stems and, drawing the knife with its two-foot blade, rushed toward the struggling monster.
“Save me! Save me!” Miguel was crying piteously, and in his anxiety David cast caution to the winds and dashed at the reptile, knife raised high above his shoulder. The next thing he knew he found himself sprawling in the mud where a powerful blow of the crocodile’s tail had sent him. He arose immediately, but this time he approached more cautiously.
“Use your own knife,” he shouted. “Hack at the eyes, the throat—any place at all!”
These words carried a ray of hope with them and for the first time Miguel seemed to regain his reason. He drew the shining blade from the scabbard and rained a shower of blows on the creature’s head, making it bellow with pain and rage.
Blood began to stream from the numerous gashes, but still it refused to relinquish its victim. It was too occupied, however, to pay further attention to David; in a moment he had leaped astride the armor-covered back and, clutching the rough plates with his left hand, he delivered thrust after thrust with his right at the vulnerable neck and throat.
Roars and bellows escaped the struggling reptile as it shook its huge body in vain efforts to rid itself of its adversary and filled the air with a shower of the thin mud. However, the odds against it were too great. Its efforts grew weaker and after a few minutes there were only the convulsive movements of its massive legs and tail. Its head had been almost severed from the body.
David pried open the great jaws with the blade of his knife and released Miguel’s foot; then he carried him to the grass and removed his shoe to examine the extent of his injury. He found that two of the thick, peg-like teeth had entered the flesh. Obviously the crocodile had broken some of its teeth in previous encounters, or the man would not have escaped so easily. He bore the pain stolidly even when David probed the wound to encourage bleeding, for he dared not wash it with the stagnant water of the lagoon.
Just then the men reappeared. They had witnessed the combat from a distance, but now that it was over they came back and discussed it in loud, excited voices.
David went to get his rope and paced the distance beside the crocodile, finding it over twenty feet in length. Then he returned to the group.
“Miguel will have to be carried back to camp,” he said. “He must not walk until I can wash and dress his foot properly. You can all take turns carrying him, first one, then the other. Now, let’s start.”
They obeyed mechanically, glad to be under the direction of the man who was now a hero in their sight, although they were still too dazed fully to appreciate it.
That night each one of the men who had witnessed the encounter of the afternoon described it in minutest detail to the others who had not been present. Even the Indians learned of it and came over in a body to hear the story told and retold, and then returned to their own shelters to discuss it far into the night.
David was embarrassed by this great amount of attention.
“It was nothing,” he assured them. “Each one of you would have done the same thing if you had had a rope.”
“No, we wouldn’t,” they said, “especially if he had treated us the way he did you. He started it and was taking you there hoping you would be——”
“Never mind that part of it. It’s all over now and, as I said before, it was nothing. I’m sure Miguel was only joking.”
Miguel sat brooding through it all and David could not fail to notice it.
“He’s sorry he put the ants into my rubber,” he thought with a smile. “Well, there won’t be any more of them for a few days at least, because he won’t be able to walk for a while. And, even when he can walk again, he can’t possibly be mean enough to play any more pranks like that on me.”
It was therefore with a light heart that he started over his route the next morning. He had first looked at Miguel’s foot; it was swollen, but showed no signs of infection; so he washed and dressed it and told the man that if he remained in his hammock for a few days he would be all right. Miguel submitted to the ministrations and advice without a word. He seemed eager to have David care for his injured foot, but if he appreciated the attentions he received he gave no evidence of it.
“He certainly is a queer character, but as Tiny Tim said, ‘God bless us every one.’ I can’t figure him out,” David thought as he left the shack.
The first few trees he visited had not been tampered with. The little cups were full of the precious, snowy liquid. He was positive now that his conjecture had been right. Miguel was the culprit; as he had not been able to visit the route the day before the catch had not been spoiled.
Then great was his consternation to find that the very next cup was filled with a little cake of curdled latex, as before; and upon cutting it open he found the decapitated ants.
Miguel was not the guilty one, after all. But who was? Someone was certainly responsible for the state of affairs. The ants could not drop their heads and then plunge into the white liquid that served as their graves.
Continuing his walk along the trail, he found that numerous other trees had been visited by the prowler that did so much harm, the same trees in most instances as before. There was now no one whom David could suspect and the solution of the mystery seemed hopeless. But he would outwit them all. Without saying a word to anyone, he would select a new line and tap the trees, being careful not to leave a blazed trail that would be so easy to follow.
He began to collect the sap and threw the curdled pieces away as he turned his steps campward.
Then a peculiar thing happened, so unexpected that it was startling. He had just rounded a bend in the trail. Ten yards ahead of him stood a thick hevea tree scarred by the cuts he had made. A flickering movement caught his eye; it was near the folded cup that served to catch the sap. Stopping in his tracks he looked intently at the little container, but saw nothing. He stood a full minute without removing his gaze from the spot, and just as he began to think that the flickering object had been a falling leaf his persistence was rewarded.
A long, curved beak, followed by a brown head and two bright eyes, appeared cautiously around the tree trunk. David did not move. After a moment’s pause a brown bird about eight inches long hopped into view; it looked like a woodpecker, clinging to the bark with its feet and using its tail as a prop to sit on when it stopped to rest. David recognized it as a woodhewer, of which there were many species in the forest.
The bird now hopped along fearlessly and for the first time the man noticed that it held something in its beak. It made straight for the cup and dropped the object it had been carrying into it. Immediately after, it flew away; a few undulating dashes through the air and it had alighted on the base of a neighboring tree and at once began to hop nimbly up the straight trunk. Soon it disappeared into a hole high overhead, which was apparently the entrance to its nesting cavity. In a moment it came out again and, clinging to the bark, hammered vigorously some object it had brought out of the cavity; then it flew to the nearest hevea and dropped the morsel into the little pool of sap forming in the leaf-cup.
David watched the bird make several more trips between its nest and the nearby rubber trees. The mystery was solved. It was catching the ants that invaded its domicile, pounding off their heads against the rough bark and then disposing of the remains by dropping them into the nearest pool of liquid it could find, possibly to make doubly sure that they would not again come to life to disturb it. If the nearest pool happened to be a cup of latex the bird, of course, used it and David suffered thereby.
The woodhewers were plentiful in the forest, which accounted for the fact that so many trees had been visited by them. He wondered why the men had not told him about this.
David said nothing about his discovery when he reached camp. But that afternoon, when he had finished his work in the smokehouse, he took a long walk in the forest, visiting the routes of several of the men. He found, as he had confidently expected, that the proportion of their trees visited by the birds was as great as on his own line; but the men had made up for the loss by extending their lines and bringing new trees into bearing as fast as others had to be discarded.
This knowledge clearly pointed out to David the course he had to follow. And early the following morning found him prepared to extend his trail or open a new one. He carried his pail, as usual; in addition, the long-handled ax for tapping the new trees. His revolver and knife were in his belt.
When he reached the end of the trail he put down the pail and continued walking through the forest; the country was all new to him, but he had no difficulty in locating rubber trees. They seemed more plentiful than ever, if anything. Clumps of them stood among the palms and other tall growths.
As he penetrated farther and farther into the thick jungle he snapped or turned twigs every few steps so that there would be no trouble in finding his way back.
He had been travelling in this manner more or less steadily for the greater part of two hours and had covered a distance of three or four miles. No less than two hundred new trees had been added to his line; when they produced freely, as they would within a week, his daily catch would compare favorably with that of the best in spite of the depredations of the woodhewers.
To one side of him grew a very tall tree, towering high above its fellows; the trunk was straight and about four feet through, and David estimated that the lowest limb was fully sixty feet above the ground while the topmost twigs must have been a hundred and fifty feet above his head. There were numbers of round objects hanging from the branches. He wondered what they were, and thinking that some of them might have fallen to the ground he walked to the tree to see if he could find one.
Before long he found one of the large, cannon-ball-like objects, and upon breaking it open found a number of Brazil nuts inside. He stooped to crack one, but the blows from his knife never fell; from directly above him came the most peculiar song he had ever heard. It rose clear and ringing, setting the jungle a-tingle with its resonance, and swelling airily and easily until it seemed to penetrate the body of the listener.
Oo-whee whee-e-e oo came the song, first low and plaintive, then rising to a very loud yet mellow pitch and again descending to the low, sad oo, finally ending in a few almost inaudible churrs. It sounded somewhat like the ringing of a bell.
Now, David had read about the bell birds of the South American forest and he felt that this must be one of them. Without rising, his eyes searched the branches overhead. The notes had come from so close at hand that the singer must have been in one of the lower growths, almost within reach of the man’s hand.
There was not a stir among the leaves; the bird was not moving and would be harder to locate for that reason. As David gazed into the lacy vegetation about him the song was suddenly repeated and with such startling clearness that it sounded nearer than before. He looked quickly in the direction from which it had come, but saw nothing. It was exasperating; a creature capable of producing such a volume of sound must be of considerable size. Then why could not he see it, especially since it was so close to him?
A short time later a second voice came, as if in answer to the first, but it was some distance away, reaching but faintly through the maze of vegetation on the right. David turned his head in the direction from which the new song had come, involuntarily, and at the same moment the voice of the first singer rang out even louder than before.
Oo-whee whee-oo! The swelling cadence cut the silence with appalling suddenness. It was uncanny, for try as he would David could not locate the bird that was calling. Either it was an accomplished ventriloquist and was not where he expected to find it, or it was so small and inconspicuously colored that it was hard to see.
That was the last time the song was repeated in the near vicinity. Again and again the bursts of sound, rising and falling in astonishing volume, came to the bewildered listener, but now they were all in the distance. The songsters were all around him and the forest rang with their clear, penetrating notes.
“I’m going to see one of them if it takes the rest of the day,” David said between clenched teeth. “That first one was right in front of my eyes, or I couldn’t have heard it so well. Why didn’t I see it then?”
He went to the tree from which the nearest song was flowing; when he reached it there was only silence. After a moment’s wait he left the spot and went to another where several birds were calling. But they immediately hushed their voices. Then he went to another, and another. But each time he changed positions the voice he sought was quickly silenced while the jungle resounded with the others, all of which were some little distance away.
It occurred to him that his abrupt movements might be frightening the creatures, so he tried stealing noiselessly from one place to another; but still the result was the same. It was like pursuing some will-o’-the-wisp, always within reach but always unattainable.
An hour passed, but David took no note of the fleeting time. A second slipped by and a third had started into the abyss that has neither beginning nor end, when the persistence and patience of the watcher were rewarded. He saw a dark object dart from one branch to another and then clearly made out the form of the bird as it sat motionless on its thick perch. It was the size of a robin and of a uniform, slaty-black color; the latter fact explained why it was so hard to see in the gloom of the forest vault.
The bird sat quietly for several minutes while David stirred not a muscle. Then it raised its head and poured out the flood of sound that had been so baffling to the man.
“I was determined to see it, and I did; but I had no idea I was so long about it,” David mused, consulting his watch. “I’ll have to hustle now. Let’s see, just where am I?”
He looked around for a moment; the trees on all sides looked alike. In the excitement of his pursuit he had neglected to bend twigs to mark his path.
His predicament was amusing, perhaps even a trifle annoying—nothing more. A few precious minutes more would be wasted while he got his bearings and he would be just that much later in reaching camp. He did not stop to think what would happen when he got there.
“The trail is in this direction and camp is right over there,” he thought.
Having reached these conclusions he started away at a rapid pace; and he walked longer than he thought he should have to strike the trail—without striking it. But he kept on doggedly until he was forced to admit that his guess had been a mistaken one.
He stopped and again calculated carefully just which direction was the right one to take; and again a fruitless, tiring walk rewarded his efforts. When he tried to get his bearings for the third time he was forced to admit to himself that he was hopelessly lost. The sun might have been of use in the emergency, but in the forest there was no sun, and night was fast approaching.
The first sensation that followed the realization that he was completely lost was one of panic. And the first impulse was to dash away frantically without heed to direction. However, David remained master of himself to the extent that he quelled these feelings; he sat down on a convenient log. He would think it over, as calmly as he could, and decide what best had be done.
It came to him clearly now. He had followed the voice of the jungle siren without the slightest regard to the direction in which he went. He had not the faintest idea how far he had gone. He did not know where his old trail or the end of the new one was; perhaps they were many miles away. In short, he was just as much lost as ever.
Finally he decided that the best procedure was to walk in gradually widening circles; at some time the circumference must bisect a point he knew. One direction was as good as another to start with, so he started, walking rapidly; and by bearing slightly to the right he was sure his steps must cover a circuitous course.
Nightfall found him still at sea as to his whereabouts. He gathered a pile of wood, started a fire and then sat down between the blaze and the butt of a thick castanha tree. No sleep came to him that night. All through the hours of blackness, peopled with invisible forms and strange noises, he kept his lonely vigil, straining his ears for the shots or calls of the searching party he was sure would be sent for him.
When daylight came there was nothing to do but resume the tramp of the day before, for he had been unable to think of a better plan.
Fortunately, he came across a giant armadillo digging for grubs in a decayed stump, and promptly killed it before the stupid creature withdrew its head from the rubbish to discover his presence.
It was a monster of its kind and weighed half a hundredweight. The head, body, legs and tail were completely encased in bony armor, and the claws it used in procuring its food would have measured eight inches long.
David built a fire on the spot and soon pieces of the tender white flesh, roasted thoroughly, were satisfying the hunger of two days’ duration. He cooked every morsel, wrapped what he did not eat in leaves, and then fastened the pack to his back with strips of bark. It might be days before another opportunity to procure food so easily presented itself.
When the third day had passed the seriousness of his position came to David in an unexpected manner. The thing that caused him to stop suddenly while a feeling of terror came over him was the first sign of oncoming fever.
That dread scourge of the tropical jungle struck without warning and David had read and heard enough about it to recognize it at the first onslaught—a feeling of utter exhaustion, followed by chills that made his teeth chatter even though the vegetation, high overhead, was wilting in the glare of the brassy sun. His entire body trembled violently as he sank in a heap to the ground. After that came a burning fever, so that for an hour he tossed in intense agony.
The attack finally subsided, leaving him limp and helpless. After a time he gathered enough strength to kindle a fire, beside which he spent a miserable night.
Once he sank into a light sleep; he was awakened by the sound of shuffling footsteps in the dry leaves. Some large animal was watching him, although he could not see it in the darkness. He threw wood on the fire and as the flames leaped up there was a heavy crashing in the underbrush as the startled creature dashed away.
The malady returned at increasingly frequent intervals, like some insidious enemy sure of its victim but in no undue haste to accomplish its vile purpose. David could not bear up under the repeated attacks. At the end of a week he was too ill to continue the ceaseless and now hopeless tramp that took him nowhere.
His food had given out; and he had no desire to eat even if there had been food in abundance. His one thought was of companionship; with someone near him the whole frightful experience would not be so hard to bear—even if it came to the worst. But alone, with only the gloomy forest and its furtive wild folk about him, it was terrifying. His thoughts wandered to far-off things, especially to those he had insisted on leaving back at home. Then he remembered his enthusiasm when first he had seen the Amazonian jungle from the deck of the steamer. It had seemed to challenge him; he remembered that distinctly. “Come if you dare,” it had said, “and I will overwhelm you.”
Full of confidence in his own ability he had accepted the bold defiance hurled at him by the mystery-enshrouded walls of green. He had lost, but he had only himself to blame.
Not a word of complaint escaped his lips. While there was life there was hope; he would sleep a while, if possible, or at any rate rest for a time. Then he would take up the fight anew. His head would be clearer and some way was bound to occur to him that would get him out of the difficulty.
Oblivion came quickly—too quickly, in fact, to portend anything of a wholesome nature; and for an hour he lay quiet as death. He was awakened from his stupor by fiery stings in one hand that had been stretched out far from his body. He drew it toward him and raised it unsteadily to see what was causing the pain. Several large, black ants were clinging to it, their vise-like mandibles embedded deeply in his skin. With a great effort he tore away the ferocious insects and raised himself on his elbows. What he saw caused a cry of horror to escape his lips.
An ant army, the most relentless of all the creatures that infest the tropical forest, was approaching. Already the leading files had discovered him; some had attacked without delay, while others had hurried back to the main column to convey the news of their find.
David summoned all the strength at his command in an effort to rise to his feet. But the exertion was in vain, and after several futile attempts he knew that escape was impossible. However, he might ward off the end if——
Slowly and laboriously he tried rolling over the ground. It was hard work, but finally he succeeded in making a complete turn. A pause for rest, then another turn and a distance of nearly three yards had been gained on the avalanche of ants that was sweeping towards him. Perhaps he could evade the insatiable horde after all; but when he struggled to roll again it seemed that his last chance had vanished, for directly in his path was an obstacle he could not surmount in the form of a fallen tree that blocked all progress for a distance of fifty feet each way.
The realization that escape was cut off in the one direction that had seemed open came as a disheartening shock. He lay back limp and helpless; to his ears came the sound of the insects swarming over the dry leaves, like the patter of a shower of rain. His brain reeled and the blood roared in his veins. In desperation he covered his face with his hands.
“Lord,” he prayed, “I’m not blaming anybody but myself for getting into this, but if I get out of it I’ll know You helped.”
When David failed to return to camp at the usual time little was thought of it by those who noticed his absence. It was not until the foreman came around on his daily tour of inspection of the smokehouses that mention was made of it. It was then past mid-afternoon.
“You, Mariano, go to the dormitorio to see if he is there,” he said. “He may be sick.”
Mariano dropped his work and hurried out. Soon he returned.
“He is not there,” he said, “and the cook said he has not come in yet. He’s been waiting for him.”
“Wonder what’s keeping him,” the foreman said uneasily. “Did he say anything to anybody this morning about going farther than usual?”
A chorus of “No, Senhor,” and “Not to me” came in response to the inquiry.
The chief bit his lip.
“I’ll be back soon,” he said. “If he comes let me know at once. Don’t go away when you are through with your work. I may need all of you.”
A half hour passed and still there was no sign of the missing David. The foreman came in—visibly agitated.
“Get ready, every last one of you,” he ordered. “Either the boy is lost or met with some accident. You must find him. Shout as you go and those of you who have guns fire them. Scatter out far and wide over the country. Those of you who find or see nothing come back after dark. I will pay twenty-five milreis to the man who finds him or brings back the first news of him. Now get your bottles; the cook will fill them with coffee and give you each a package of food. Then hurry away up the trail.”
The men departed immediately to do as they were directed. Not long after, they filed into the forest, alert for any sign or clue that would be of value to them in looking for the missing man. From time to time some of them branched off the main path until they had spread out in a fan-shaped formation that combed the forest in a thorough manner so far as it went. They kept calling and occasionally there was the report of a gun.
Before long, however, they were out of hearing of one another. Therefore, it was not until long after dark, when the last man had straggled back into camp, that they knew that the search had been fruitless.
The new trail that David had started that morning had been discovered, but darkness had come before it could be followed to its end; and they brought back the empty pail—nothing more.
The uneasiness of mid-afternoon now gave way to consternation. A hundred explanations were forthcoming to account for his disappearance. Everyone seemed greatly concerned, but most of all Dom Carlos, the camp foreman. From the obscure position of “nobody” David had suddenly risen to be the most important person in the outfit. In contrast to the aloofness with which he had still been regarded by a few of the men, they now all joined in extolling his courage and good qualities and pledged themselves that he must be found at all hazards. The monetary reward was tripled to give further impetus to their efforts.
Six men were sent out immediately after supper to light fires in the jungle and to keep them blazing all night, to serve as beacons in the event that the wanderer should be trying to find his way in the darkness. They went in pairs and followed widely diverging trails. And when they returned at dawn the others who had slept in camp started out, this time, however, spreading in all directions to cover so much of the country as possible.
Foremost among the searchers was Miguel. He had not fully recovered from his encounter with the crocodile; his foot still pained him at times; but, thanks to David’s ministrations, he had the use of it to a considerable extent. It was he who had found the new trail and had followed it until darkness made it impossible to go farther the previous evening. He had returned the pail and collected the first reward. And now he was determined to take up the search where he had been compelled to drop it.
The men had been told to carry food for one day only and to come back that night. But the stock of provisions on Miguel’s back was sufficient for three days; and, having no gun, he carried his bow and a dozen arrows in his pack.
The grim expression on his face plainly showed that he was determined to find David; he owed him a debt of gratitude he could scarcely repay in any other manner, but, unfortunately, he had never thought of it in that light. What he did think of and looked forward to was a meeting in some far-off spot where he would have the opportunity to settle old scores, safe from the prying eyes of others.
Alone in the towering forest, with only the silent trees as witnesses, it would be easy to dispose of the one obstacle that stood between him and complete leadership of the men. Once before, when the opportunity had been within his grasp, fate had intervened to rob him of his victory; that was when the crocodile had attacked him instead of David after the latter had entered the water. Now, he had all the advantage. Better for David that he remain forever lost in the forest than be found by the vengeful Miguel.
The first day passed rapidly, for a man hunt was a new experience and it was a fascinating occupation. He scanned the forest floor, the tree-trunks, and the lower growth for any traces that would aid him in his search.
On the second afternoon Miguel found the fire where David had roasted the armadillo. That encouraged him. He was on the right track. And he redoubled his efforts, as does the hound when the scent grows hotter. His eyes glowed with a strange fire at the thought that he might at any moment catch sight of his quarry.
David had learned the truth of the saying that bad luck is apt to grow worse; Miguel had never even heard it, but that did not exempt him from its application. What both had yet to learn was that luck, particularly bad luck, was only too often the result of some act for which they were fully responsible. The beating Miguel had received and the narrowly avoided drowning had been bad enough; but worse was to come.
He awoke on the third morning to discover that his remaining food supply had disappeared during the night, and the completeness with which it had vanished made it evident that a colony of ants had done the work. That was exasperating, but there was game to be shot with arrows, so the situation was not serious.
After that came the realization that the search was extending over a wider territory and greater period of time than he had expected. And he began to wonder if he should find David, after all.
It was that night, however, that he felt the merciless judgment of the forest in all the impartial rigor which was its law. Those who sought to ferret out its secrets must pay the penalty and Miguel was no exception.
It swooped down upon him in the same guise it had assumed when it fell upon David, and while his teeth beat a tattoo, or as the hot blood coursed throbbingly through his veins, he began to comprehend the seriousness of the mission on which he had embarked, and to wonder if the purpose was worth the cost.
The fever ran its usual course. Miguel wandered about in a dazed condition and when there was finally a lull in the onslaught he found himself in an unenviable predicament. He too was lost, and for the first time in his life.
With that realization came the feeling of utter loneliness. Never before had he felt so completely forsaken, so bewildered, so hopeless. He longed for the sound of a voice, a glimpse of a friendly face, or the touch of a sympathetic hand.
It was terrible, this being lost and alone in the silent, heartless jungle that gave no quarter, that knew not the words pity or mercy. Gaunt spectres rose on every side; hideous naked Indians pierced him through with their poisoned darts; serpents struck with envenomed fangs; and jaguars of enormous size crouched behind each tree-trunk for the fatal spring.
It had always been thus. It would always be thus. The fever-crazed brain of a lone man, lost in the tropical jungle, could conjure pictures without end.
As the days passed Miguel’s desperation increased. All thoughts of malevolence vanished. If he found David now he would rush to him joyfully. It would mean companionship, perhaps even salvation. Anything, anyone to banish the horror of a living death alone in the treacherous forest.
It was at this point that Miguel heard the twittering of the ant wrens, and well he knew what their excited cries meant. They had discovered an ant army on the march and had gathered in numbers to profit by the marauders’ depredations.
The sound of their calls, even if they were only birds, came as a blessed relief to the man driven frantic by the breathless silence of the forest. To see, to be near any living thing, would be infinitely better than the dread loneliness. He would go toward the chorus of voices that his fever-dulled brain pictured as possible saviors of his reason.
Before long he reached the far-flung lines of ants that served as scouts on the flanks of the main army. The organization and discipline of the insects was as wonderful as it was terrible to the victims, for it precluded all possibility of escape.
Miguel stopped to look at the black ribbons flowing over the forest floor. Thin lines branched off from the main arteries every few yards; these explored each leaf and crevice, ascending even to the tops of the tallest trees in their insatiable quest of victims.
In front of the sweeping mass and on both sides was a horde of terror-stricken creeping, crawling and hopping creatures making frantic efforts to escape from inevitable doom. There were rhinoceros beetles with huge antler-like growths on their fore-bodies; centipedes eight inches long; scorpions wildly lashing their tails armed with poisonous curved stings; great hairy tarantulas, wood frogs, and many other living things. Some crawled to the topmost branches of the lower undergrowth of ferns and like vegetation and remained there motionless during a brief respite; but they were always discovered and routed by the ants. Others fled precipitately up the tree-trunks; and still others came out of their hiding-places only to curl up sullenly and to await the end.
Suddenly the ant army divided. Scouts had in some mysterious manner brought back the intelligence of an unusual find and the main column had promptly responded with reinforcements. Miguel saw and understood. At the same time, the ant birds that had first attracted his attention set up a furious chatter. Here was the opportunity to see something of an unusual nature.
Miguel crawled upon a great prostrate tree-trunk in order to have a better view of what was going on. It was toward this log that the ants were rushing in a black sheet. And it was there the birds were scolding in anguish.
About the first thing Miguel saw when he attained the top of the log was the body of a man lying on the ground as if dead. The hands covered the face so that he could not see it, but he recognized the clothing and knew that it could belong to none other than David Jones.
“Camarada!” he cried, at the same time dropping down beside the motionless figure. “It is I, Miguel, who have found you. Por dios, and just in time.”
It required all his depleted strength to raise David to his feet; then he took the limp form in his arms and slowly carried it to safety—out of reach of the ravenous horde that sensed the intrusion and sent skirmishing lines dashing in all directions in frantic efforts to locate the prize so suddenly snatched from its grasp.
David opened his eyes slowly. When he saw the man who had just deposited him on the ground, puffing hard from his exertion, he stared in amazement. Then the remembrance of something dreadful came back to him in a flash. He weakly raised his arms and placed his hands over his face.
“Oh, the ants, the ants,” he moaned. “They are all over me. I can feel their bites—they are killing me and—I can’t get away. I can’t get over the log.”
“No, they’re not,” Miguel panted, trying to soothe him. “You are safe now. I will not let them get you. Look, there isn’t one on you; they’re far away, on the other side of the log, and I’ll carry you farther before they come near here.”
“But I can feel them, on my hands and face—everywhere,” David persisted.
“Sh!” Miguel said. “Keep quiet and everything will be all right.”
It was some time before the delirious man could be calmed. But Miguel finally succeeded in reassuring him that the danger that had threatened was now past, and with the realization that he was safe from the ants came a measure of strength.
“I was sure something would happen—someone would find me before they got to me,” David said faintly after a while. Miguel had propped him up against the base of a tree while he plucked and prepared to roast a mutum that looked like a good-sized turkey; he had just shot the bird in the tree right over their heads. “I never gave up hope and, Miguel, I’m glad it was you who found me.”
“Me?” in surprise. “Why did you want me to find you?”
“I don’t know. I just wanted it to be you—maybe just to prove to the others that we could be good friends if it came down to rock bottom.”
“Umph!” Miguel’s thoughts were travelling in strange channels. He felt queer as he thought of the purpose he had in mind when he started on the long search. What if he had found David the first few days after leaving camp?
“I’m glad I found you, too, when I did,” he said. “But neither one of us has anything much to be glad about.”
“What do you mean? I feel better already. And I’m hungry. We can start back tomorrow if I can eat as much of that bird as I think I can. They told me that you’re the best bushman in the crowd, so we’ll take a short cut back to camp,” David said confidently.
“That’s just it! I didn’t want to tell you right away, but now I can’t help it. We can’t start back to camp because—because—” Miguel hesitated as if reluctant to proceed. “We can’t start back because I’m lost, too.”
When Miguel admitted that he, too, was lost, the intelligence came as a great shock to David. One of his first thoughts upon seeing his rescuer was that at last his aimless, heart-breaking wanderings in the forest had come to an end. The walk back to camp might be of several days’ duration, but that did not matter. It made a difference whether one was walking in hopeless desperation because there was nothing else to do, or whether there was a definite goal to reach and one had the assurance of being on the right track. Now they were little better off than before. However, he suppressed the bitter disappointment he felt and tried to smile.
“How did that happen?” he asked. “I thought you couldn’t lose your way.”
“It was the fever,” Miguel said dejectedly. “Before that I knew where I was every minute of the time. Now I can’t remember how I got here or how many days I spent wandering around before my head cleared.”
“Well, the two of us together ought to find some way of getting out—when I’m able to travel. And it’s better than being all alone.”
“Yes, the lonesomeness nearly drove me crazy. It was terrible. It was the one thing I couldn’t stand. Fever, hunger—anything but that.”
Miguel turned the bird, which had been impaled on a stick, and when it had browned to a uniform color on all sides he brought it to the tree where David sat and stuck the stick into the ground. They cut off pieces of the tender flesh with their knives, but David’s appetite was not nearly so good as he had thought, while the absence of salt robbed the meat of much of its flavor.
“I could open one of the cartridges in my revolver,” he said, “and use the powder for salt; but we might need it more to shoot with before we get out of this.”
Miguel agreed that they had better save the ammunition for the purpose for which it was intended.
“How do you feel now?” he asked.
“I knew I’d feel better, and I do,” David replied. “But the fever left me all wrung out like a wet rag. Wish we had some quinine!”
“Quinine is good, but guanabara is better. The root grows in the forest. I hunted for it every day but couldn’t find it. I’ll look again. Maybe there is some near here. But first we need a shelter. We have to stay here a few days at least. You are too weak to walk far. I’ll build a place to sleep first and then I’ll go in search of the medicine.”
David wanted to help in the construction of their shelter, but that, of course, was out of the question. Even the sitting posture had tired him so much that he slid to the ground, where he lay watching Miguel as he proceeded to erect the structure that was to house them until they should resume their wandering.
First he cut stout poles and fastened them to either side of two thick trees that stood about ten feet apart, by tying them to the trunks with strips of bark. Then he fastened cross-pieces to the poles, thus making a platform that was shoulder high above the ground. He piled dry palm leaves on this for a bed. After that he fastened two other poles a few feet above the platform and covered them with green palm leaves that hung down far over the sides, forming a roof.
The work required only a short time and the shelter that had been provided was entirely practicable and serviceable. Miguel surveyed it proudly as he explained its good points.
“It’s up high enough to be out of reach of snakes, scorpions, spiders and most of the mosquitoes; they all like to stay close to the ground. And if it should happen to rain, the roof will keep us dry,” he said.
David replied that he thought it was fine and would like to try it. The springy platform with the thick layer of dry leaves would be more comfortable than the hard ground.
Miguel helped him into the aerial perch and then went to hunt for the guanabara root that would cure them both of the fever. He did not return until shortly before dark, and then it was only to report failure. However, he would go again the following morning.
After the Brazilian, too, had climbed into the platform bed the two lay awake and talked far into the night. One plan after another of escape from their predicament was discussed, and finally sleep overtook them before anything definite had been decided on.
The next day found both greatly refreshed, although David was still too ill to stand without assistance. But the change that had come over Miguel was remarkable; he cared for his companion in the best way he knew how and was most solicitous for his welfare.
They ate pieces of the bird left from the previous night and then the Brazilian again went to look for the medicinal root. This time he was successful. He came back shortly before noon and announced his arrival with a shout of triumph.
“Here it is at last,” he called as David peered out from under the ragged palm-leaf roof. “Look! It is the guanabara. It will cure your fever and mine. Thank dios, I found it!”
Miguel held several fleshy roots in his hand. They resembled slender sweet potatoes, but were of a bluish color.
“Let me have one,” David said feebly. “I’d eat anything to get rid of this awful feeling.”
“Wait! You can’t eat it raw, because it’s deadly poison that way. It has to be fixed first. Watch me. Some time you might have to do it when you’re alone.”
He laid a broad, green leaf on the ground and then scraped the roots with his knife until they had been reduced to a heap of pulp. He took the mass in his hands and pressed out the surplus juice, leaving a ball of doughy material; this was tossed into the fire and turned with a stick until it had baked thoroughly and evenly all around. When it had assumed a black color, which was in half an hour, he pronounced it ready for use.
Miguel now brought water in a folded leaf and scraped some of the medicine into it, and gave it to David to drink. When the particles dissolved they turned the water red, but the concoction was tasteless.
They drank the guanabara each hour, and before many doses had been taken its effect began to make itself felt. It was bracing, even stimulating, and all symptoms of malaria vanished as if by magic. Within two days David was able to accompany Miguel on his daily hunt for food.
Fortunately, they were now in a section of the country where game was not wanting. That indicated that they must be near a large river, for in the dry season the animals were always more abundant in a strip several miles wide bordering the larger streams.
“We’ll get a good supply of food; then we’ll hunt the river. If we can locate it we can get out,” Miguel said as they started on their tramp through the forest.
“Will we follow the river?” David asked.
“No. We’ll make a raft out of bamboo and float down.”
“I guess our luck has changed at last. Soon we’ll be back in camp.”
“We have to find the river first. When we have found it, who knows where it will take us to? It might take us right back to camp, or many leagues away from it.”
Miguel had his bow and a number of arrows. David was following close behind him; it was his duty to mark their trail by snapping twigs as they went along. Their shelter was too comfortable to lose so long as they remained in the locality.
Before long they came upon a flock of four large black birds feeding in the top of a tree. They were like the one Miguel had shot right after finding David, and moved about heavily as they fed on the fruits that grew on the branches.
The Brazilian took careful aim and released the cord of the bow. There was a sharp snap and the arrow sped whining through the air. Just before reaching the bird the shaft struck one of the numerous limbs a glancing blow; that was sufficient to deflect the missile from its path and it passed the mark by a goodly margin and continued its flight up above the trees and out of sight.
The birds were not frightened, but continued eating as if they had not noticed anything of an unusual nature in their midst. This was fortunate, for it permitted Miguel to take a second shot; this time the arrow found its mark and a great mutum fell crashing to the ground while the other three flew away.
The bird was dead when they reached it. They removed the arrow carefully and then went to look for the first one that had been shot and gone astray, for they had only a limited number and the time might come when every one of them counted.
David thought the task of looking for the slender shaft in the thick jungle was hopeless, but Miguel assured him that he had marked its course as it soared over the trees.
“You see,” he added, “each one has a few bright-colored feathers on the end in addition to the black ones that make it fly straight.”
“Yes, I see them. You put them there for ornaments, I know.”
“No, they are not ornaments. They are put there as markers. Look! There is the lost one now.”
David saw what looked like a brilliant flower among the deep tints of the undergrowth. It was the arrow sticking in the ground where it had fallen; the red feather made it conspicuous among the green vegetation. They recovered it and replaced it in the pack.
A short time later they were startled by a chorus of “Oh’s” that came from the treetops not far ahead. The wails came in a rising crescendo, as if their makers were suffering intense pain or were in great fear.
“Flying monkeys,” Miguel announced gleefully as he started on a run toward the sound. David followed and soon saw the cause of the disturbance in the form of small, grayish bodies hurtling through space is if indeed flying.
The monkeys were leaping from tree to tree and swinging through the branches at an incredible rate of speed. When they jumped, the boughs sprang back into place with a swish and the creatures landed with a thud, keeping the treetops bending and swaying as in a heavy wind. All the while they shrieked “Oh, oh, oh!” at the top of their voices.
Miguel sent an arrow after the fleeing animals and by a lucky circumstance brought down one of them. It was unlike any monkey David had ever seen, with a round head and a body like a very large cat’s. The tail was long and bushy.
They returned to the shelter and while the meat was roasting determined to start away early the following morning. They agreed that the rubber camp must be in a southeasterly direction from their position and they would therefore head that way, which was also the direction in which they hoped to find the river. It was true, the jungle was heaviest and progress would be slower; but, also, game was more abundant, and if they discovered the waterway it would save them days of walking in the end. If their calculations were correct the stream might even turn out to be a branch of the river on which the camp was situated.
The forest changed considerably in character as they advanced through it. Palms grew more abundantly than before and occasionally they saw a clump of orchids perched high overhead with sprays of gorgeous blossoms that drooped from among the leathery foliage like yard-long, brilliant plumes.
David had just stopped to look at an exceptional cluster the size of a tub and with panicles of deep orange flowers resembling a hundred gorgeous butterflies. Miguel stopped at the same time and laid a warning finger on his companion’s arm. He was staring straight ahead and, looking in that direction, David saw a dark form shaped like a cow silently appear from behind a clump of low palms. So soon as it was in full view it stopped, turned and faced its back trail, raised its head and sniffed the air. It had a very long nose that moved up and down as it drew short breaths. Then it turned quickly and faced at right angles to its previous position. At about the same time a volley of arrows struck the animal with a crash and as it staggered away a chorus of wild yells rent the air and a number of Indians rushed into view.
Miguel dropped to the ground the instant the arrows struck the tapir and David was not long in following his example. They were just in time and for the moment the Indians did not see them.
The stricken animal lurched forward only a few yards before it crumpled and fell in a heap, and soon the savages were upon it, dispatching it with clubs and spears.
That was the one opportunity that the white men must not lose if they hoped to escape with their lives, for in the excitement of the moment the Indians would not notice their movements.
Miguel began to crawl stealthily toward a nearby clump of thorny bamboo, David following at his heels, and not until they reached the inside of the dense growth did they breathe a sigh of relief.
The Indians continued giving their wild calls, as if signalling to other members of their party, and before long numbers of them began to come in from various directions. They came singly and in groups and still the yelling continued.
They were a savage-looking lot, entirely nude save only for necklaces of teeth and sticks tufted with feathers that they wore through large perforations in their ears. Their brown bodies were painted in irregular lines and dots of black, dark blue and red.
Each carried a bow and a number of arrows in his hands. Some also had long-handled spears and sword-like weapons made of tough palmwood.
Several of the savages began to skin and cut up the tapir while others went to gather firewood. First, however, each man disposed of his arms by sticking them into the ground in a little cluster; that prevented the possibility of their being stepped upon and broken.
“They are going to camp here for the night,” Miguel whispered. “We’ll have to stay here until they leave.”
“That suits me. We can watch them but they can’t see us,” David replied. He was glad of the opportunity of seeing the Indians engaged in their pursuits in a natural manner, unconscious of the fact that they were being observed.
“We’ll be all right so long as they don’t see us. We have to keep absolutely still.”
“Suppose they look in here through the hole by which we came in? Let’s close it!” David suggested.
“Yes,” Miguel agreed. “We must close it or one of them might happen to glance in.”
They pulled the thorn-covered branches together, very slowly and carefully, until the opening was completely blocked. They were now secure from discovery so long as they remained quiet. As he thought of this David also thought of the innumerable things that could happen to call attention to their hiding-place. Suppose one of them had to cough or sneeze; or what if a scorpion, tarantula or snake should creep in to dispute their quarters with them? He dared not think further along these lines.
The Indians had started a fire by rubbing together two sticks until they glowed, then applying them to dry leaves and blowing the heap into a blaze. Then they piled on wood and before long the roaring flames were leaping high into the air. The carcass of the tapir had been hacked into pieces; some of the chunks of meat were now thrown upon the fire to roast.
“They belong to the Parintintin tribe,” Miguel said as he watched them. “They are headhunters. They are the ones who attack the rubber camp at times. But they haven’t bothered it lately, because they were beaten badly in the last fight. But this may be a war party going there again.”
“What made Dom Carlos tell Rice, then, that the Indians were killing all the men?” David asked quickly.
Miguel looked confused for a moment. “He, he—meant others, not these,” he stammered.
David gave him a sharp look.
“Oh, I see,” he said and resumed watching the antics of the mob before him.
“Here is our chance to get more arrows,” David said suddenly. Several of the savages had placed their weapons in the ground beside their place of concealment. “Do you need any more?”
“No!” Miguel was horror-stricken. “Don’t touch them. They would miss them and then find us.”
“Well, I won’t take any, then, but I’m going to have some fun. Wait until it’s dark,” David whispered with a chuckle.
By the time night had fallen some of the meat had been charred to the desired degree and the Indians raked it out with long poles; after it had cooled somewhat they tore off strips and began to eat. So soon as one chunk was taken from the embers a new one was thrown into them. And all the time individuals were coming and going, collecting fuel or engaged in other enterprises.
The scene was a weird yet fascinating one. The lithe savages, outlined against the glare of the fire; the flickering light playing on their bare skin; the dark tree-trunks; and beyond all this the inky blackness of night, made a picture never to be forgotten. It was one of those things suggested by the sombre, mysterious, silent jungle when viewed from the open reaches of a great river, but which was forever veiled to those who lacked the trepidity to penetrate into its depths.
The two dared not leave their cover for fear of running into some of the prowling savages. But when it seemed that all of them were busily engaged in consuming as much of the charred meat as possible David worked his way carefully to the edge of the barrier and reaching through it removed two arrows from one of the clusters and placed them in another one; then he took two from the latter one and inserted them in the first group to replace the ones he had taken away. Miguel was badly frightened at this action and tried to prevent it.
“I want to see what will happen when they discover the exchange,” David whispered. “It can’t do any harm.”
Scarcely had he crawled back to the center of the bamboo screen when pandemonium broke loose around the fire.
The group had just been joined by one of the tribesmen, who rushed into the circle of light, talking and gesticulating wildly.
“I told you; I told you not to do it,” Miguel gasped in terror. “He saw you and he’s telling them about it.”
“Look!” David, too, was trembling. The speaker was pointing their way and the others were looking in their direction, as if trying to pierce the blackness with their eyes.
In a moment every man was on his feet and rushing toward his bow and arrows.
The fire and the food were forgotten. The clamor of voices was stilled. Only one thought was uppermost in the mind of each Indian and that was to get hold of his weapons before the passing of another second.
The thing that had happened to end the feast of the Parintintins so abruptly was that a scout, of which each party always kept numbers on its outskirts, had rushed into their midst with news of a startling character. He had discovered the approach of a war party of another tribe which doubtless had been dogging their steps all day long and were now forming for the attack.
Warfare among the tribes of the Amazon is as unceasing as it is merciless. Each, in attempts to extend the boundaries of its territory or hunting-grounds, looks with suspicion and resentment upon its neighbors and by every means known to it tries to exterminate, or at least reduce in numbers the populace around it, thereby increasing its own measure of safety as well as its food supply.
It may, or it may not have been fortunate for the two cowering in the clump of thorny bamboo that the attack came when it did, for in the intense excitement that prevailed those of the savages who had time, flew to their arms and gathered them up in one swoop; so the interchange was not noticed. Then the dusky forms darted into the darkness that surrounded the firelight like an impenetrable wall.
But before the last one had disappeared from view there burst upon the silent night a chorus of cries and screams accompanied by the deep beats of drums; and at the same instant a deluge of arrows hissed and whined through the air in pursuit of the fleeing figures.
The arrows rattled about the clump of bamboo in which the two men were hiding. Soon after, a line of howling savages charged out of the darkness, flitted through the lighted area and disappeared again in the gloom on the other side of the fire.
David drew his revolver and held it ready for action, for the first time since Miguel had found him. He had saved the few precious cartridges he possessed for the time when it might be necessary to defend their lives and that time, he thought, had arrived. But the swarm of Indians swept past them all unaware of their presence. How the savages could see in the darkness was beyond his ability to explain; but see they did, or otherwise they soon should have killed themselves by colliding with the trees and many other obstructions in the forest.
The pursuit continued far beyond, as was evidenced by the shouts that grew constantly fainter and then died in the distance. The Parintintins had been routed completely and many of them had probably perished in the unexpected assault; the survivors, doubtless, were scattered hopelessly and were either in hiding or fleeing for their lives.
“We’d better get away from here,” David whispered, “but they went right in the direction we want to go.”
“Don’t be in too big a hurry,” Miguel admonished him. “The forest is full of Indians. I know them. There are some of them right around us here. We can’t leave until we’re sure all have gone.”
The wisdom of his words was demonstrated a moment later, when a shadowy form flitted out of the night and made for one of the clusters of arrows that had been deserted when the charge came. He had hardly reached the spot when there came the snarl of an arrow, followed by a dull thud, and the Indian pitched headlong to the ground.
It was as Miguel had said. Unseen eyes were watching the fire in anticipation of the return of some of the routed savages for their effects. But greatly to the relief of the onlookers, no others came.
After an hour’s nerve-racking silence the crackling of twigs told of the return of the victorious party and presently the vanguard, in small groups, came into view. They were talking and gesticulating wildly; then half a dozen others who had acted as sentinels around the fire joined them. Soon more came until there must have been over a hundred.
They piled wood on the fire until they had a blaze roaring toward the tree tops, while a train of sparks, like miniature comets, soared high above the forest. That served as a signal to announce victory, and after a short time a group of women and children appeared out of the jungle and joined the warriors. The women carried baskets on their backs; they were filled with calabashes, and packages wrapped in green leaves.
When all had arrived the celebration of the victory began. The remainder of the tapir was placed in the fire to roast; bundles were unwrapped, revealing quantities of fish, Brazil nuts, cassava bread and corn.
The women took full charge of preparing the food, the men spending the time in animated conversation and argument.
When the meat was roasted they all sat around the fire and ate. Water had been brought in some of the calabashes from which they frequently took long drinks.
The two watchers began to think that the eating would last all night when one of the Indians sprang to his feet and began to gesticulate with his arms. He went through the performance of pursuing and slaying an enemy in such a graphic way that they could not fail to understand his meaning. When he finished another jumped up and went through a similar pantomime; and after him, another and then another until each of the warriors had demonstrated just how he had dealt with at least one Parintintin.
David felt that if the Indians were telling the truth it had gone hard indeed with the pursued; but he suspected that most of the versions were given merely for the dramatic effect, because the victors outnumbered the vanquished two to one.
When the last speaker had finished the men started a dance around the fire, while the women and children withdrew into the background to watch. Some of the dancers picked up empty calabashes and beat them like drums. All of them shouted at the top of their voices as they leaped about the blaze, the ruddy light reflected in flickering patches on their bare, brown bodies.
Day was breaking when the assemblage gradually broke up into small groups that lay down on the ground to sleep. Only two of the men remained awake near the now rapidly dying fire, apparently for the purpose of warning the sleepers if there should be a surprise attack.
David and Miguel were in an unenviable predicament. Their limbs ached from long remaining in their cramped quarters in the bamboo clump. They could not move about and they dared not go to sleep. The faintest rustling noise, the slightest movement might arouse the Indians and cause an investigation. And they knew what discovery would mean.
It was noon when the first of the sleepers began to stir and within a few minutes the whole party was moving about. Their actions were now in great contrast to those of the early morning. They seemed in a hurry to get away.
The men collected their bows and arrows and the women packed the remnants of food and the calabashes into their baskets. Then the whole party vanished in the forest, heading in the direction in which the Parintintins had fled.
“I thought they were going to stay forever.” David sighed with relief. “Now I can stretch my legs. I’m asleep all over, except my head.”
“Roll over a few times,” Miguel advised, “and you’ll feel better.”
They both did this for a few moments and then crawled out into the open. Once on their feet, they lost no time in leaving the locality.
After walking rapidly for an hour, Miguel, who was in the lead, stopped suddenly.
“Listen,” he said, raising one hand.
David stopped and listened intently.
“I hear a faint noise, like a breeze in the tree-tops,” he said.
“Yes. That’s it. But it’s not wind, it’s water.”
“Yes, it is water. I can hear it better now. It must be a big river.”
“With a high fall in it. Only a great waterfall could make such a noise.”
“What will we do?” David asked.
“Go to it. It’s just what we want. We’ll make a raft and drift down with the current.” Miguel’s dark face lighted up with enthusiasm. “It will be easier than having to walk.”
“First, let’s eat. I’m almost starved,” David suggested.
“Me, too. But I’m afraid to start a fire. Better wait until we get to the river,” Miguel said apprehensively. “There can’t be too much distance between the Indians and us to suit me.”