It had been three months since Jack had seen Plum, so he resolved to go to De la Pama and see his friend before making another move in his venture. But he had not left town before he was surprised to meet his friend, who had come to Cobija in search of him.
“Lost my job and so I thought I would hunt you up,” said the latter, bluntly. “Got a stunning piece of news for you, too. There is an American brig ship just above here at the next town, and I made bold to ask him to take your cargo to New York. He says he will do it for a snip in the profits.”
This was a bit of news worth hearing, and in the exuberance of his spirits, Jack flung his cap high into the air and threw his arms about the neck of his friend.
“At last I believe my dream will be fulfilled, but I shall never forget it was you who helped to accomplish it. But I want to pay the money I owe you.”
“Not yet, Jack; better keep it awhile longer. I know it is safe. You may need it you know. Besides I am going to the States with you. I have got enough of this country. The war grows hotter and hotter up St. Resa way. I am homesick!”
Jack lost no time in seeing the captain of the brig, a man named Hillgrove, and who gave our hero a most cordial greeting. He had been in Bouton daring his adventurous career, though he could give Jack no information of his friends. He knew John Fowler, the great engine builder, and that simple fact gave him confidence in the young speculator, who must have presented a not very favorable appearance to him.
Jack’s long exposure to the tropical sun had fairly blackened his countenance, his hair was long and unkempt, while his clothes were sadly in need of repair, or more truthfully new ones to take their place. But there was an honest frankness in his manner, and Captain Hillgrove entered into the spirit of the venture with a hearty good-will. The bluff old sea dog, too, true to his nature, was anxious to get out to sea again as soon as possible.
“I must and will get out of this infernal country within a week,” he said. “So I will run down to Cobija as soon as possible, and if your nitrates is on board by that time the old Elizabeth will be good-natured.”
Plum having decided to go home with Jack, it was necessary for him to return to De la Pama for his money.
“I will be back sure, Jack, on the third, if not before,” were his parting words.
Captain Hillgrove ran into Cobija the next morning, when the loading of the nitrates was begun with as little delay as possible, Jack feeling in the best of spirits as he superintended the work.
But on the eve of the third day, Jack having got the last of the cargo aboard a little after noon, to his anxiety, Plum Plucky had not appeared.
“He will surely come before morning, unless something has happened to him, for I never knew Plum to break his word,” said Jack to the skipper.
“Can’t wait any longer!” declared captain Hillgrove the following morning, when it was found that Plum was still missing. “We shall all be confiscated by these infernal Spaniards.”
Jack was now really alarmed about his friend, whom he believed had been waylaid and robbed. But he could not think of leaving without making a search for him.
“I am going to start for De la Pama to look for him, but you may expect me back by sunset.”
“If you are not I shall set sail without you, for I have seen some of the Chilian spies around today.”
“You need not wait any longer than sunset,” said Jack, who could not blame the other for his impatience.
Losing no more time, Jack mounted a fleet pony that he had hired at an exorbitant price, and set out for De la Pama at a furious pace.
Toward noon he was gladdened by the sight of an inhabitant of the town whom he knew, and who was on his way to Cobija.
Halting the Peruvian he inquired of him in regard to Plum. This fellow, who knew Plum well, replied that he had seen him in town, and that he had left two days before. Upon second thought, he volunteered the startling information that news had come of an American being waylaid and killed by a party of bush-raiders a dozen miles east of De la Pama!
“Did the young engineer start directly for Cobija?” asked Jack anxiously.
“No; he went toward the east, saying he wished to go to Don de Estuaray before he went to Cobija.”
This was sufficient to arouse the fears of Jack, who procured a fresh horse and put on as rapidly as possible across the wild country toward the estancia of Don de Estuaray.
All the afternoon he rode as fast as he could, but he saw nothing of his missing friend. In his anxiety he halted on top of an eminence of land commanding a wide view of the surrounding country, to scan the lonely scene.
His attention was finally caught and held by the flight of one of those enormous vultures of the Andes, which was descrying a circle in the air directly over the valley at his feet. Smaller and smaller grew the orbit of this dark bird while he watched, until suddenly it ended its gyrations and swooped swiftly down out of sight.
Then a second took its place in the air, soon following it to the earth, in turn succeeded by a third, and that by another, and so on, until a dozen had come and gone in this mysterious way.
With a dread foreboding at his heart, Jack rode forward into the isolated valley, when, from a small opening in the centre of the place the sudden whir of wings and the rapid flight of many dark bodies told him the secret of it all.
He found what he expected a moment later--the bones of a human being picked clean of all flesh by the vultures, while scattered here and there were shreds and pieces of the garments worn by the unfortunate person.
He found enough of the clothes to know only too well that they belonged to his lost friend Plum Plucky, and tears filled his eyes as he turned away to shut out the sad spectacle.
“This is fearful!” he murmured. “Poor, poor fellow!”
At this very moment, though of course unknown to him, tired of waiting for him any longer, Captain Hillgrove was sailing out of Gobija harbor, anxious to reach the open sea before night should set in.
The vultures were still screaming over his head, venting their rage over being disturbed in their feast, as Jack hastily brushed the tears from his eyes and looked more clearly around him.
“Poor Plum!” he exclaimed, “this is indeed a sad fate. It seems a certain fatality for any one to be my friend. But I suppose you were killed for your money. It seems only decent that I should give your bones human burial.”
With his knife and the stirrups taken from the trappings of his horse, Jack hollowed out a spot to receive all that was left of the body he had found.
By the time he had finished the sad task it was quite dark in the forest, so he knew he must get away from the lonely place as soon as possible, if he valued his own life.
With a last farewell look at the wildwood grave which he was never to see again, he rode away through the wilderness.
He soon found, however, that his horse was so spent that it must have rest before going much further.
As impatient as he was to reach Cobija, wondering what Captain Hillgrove would think of his prolonged absence, he yielded to the unavoidable and stopped awhile in the heart of the forest.
It was broad daylight when he rode into De la Pama on a used up horse and himself quite fagged out.
But notwithstanding his condition, he felt obliged to push on for Cobija, dreading lest he should find Captain Hillgrove already gone. Accordingly remounting the pony he had previously ridden, he started for the sea coast at a rapid gait.
The wiry little animal made a remarkable record, but he might as well have been on the road another day, as it seemed, for he found his worst fears realized.
Captain Hillgrove had sailed!
Whither should he turn now? What should he do? Never in his life had he felt so lonely and so near despair as he did at that time. The indomitable pluck which had carried him through so many trials began to leave him. Then, he rallied, exclaiming:
“I will earn money enough to take me back to the United States on the first ship that comes this way. Perhaps with a sample of my nitrate I------”
He suddenly felt a heavy hand laid on his shoulder, and turning he was both astonished and pleased to find one of the seaman of the Elizabeth standing beside him!
“Ahoy, shipmate!” greeted the sailor, giving the true nautical pitch, “so I’ve follered you into port at last, though it’s a sorry cruise I’ve had.”
“Captain Hillgrove!” cried Jack, elated. “Where is he?”
“Outside, shipmate. He durstn’t stay inside longer, and he sent me to keep a lookout for you. I was giving you up when I clapped my old watchdogs on you. You are ready to go out to the Elizabeth in my boat?”
Jack’s reply was an exclamation of joy and a more fervant grip of the honest old tar’s hand.
“Captain Hillgrove had not deserted me after all!”
Without further trouble or delay the couple made the trip to the waiting vessel, when Jack was greeted by the bluff old skipper:
“Bless my eyes! but I had given you up to old Davy Jones.”
“And I thought you had left me in the lurch,” said Jack frankly, as he cringed under the grip given his hand by the other.
“I did not dare stay in Cobija longer, my hearty. If I had done so nary a bit of your dust would have been left on the Elizabeth. Bless my eyes! but I’m just overflowing and roaring glad--run up the yards lads. Lively, lads! put the old Elizabeth on her wings. We must be a long way from here afore sun-up.”
Exciting scenes followed, of which Jack was a spectator and not an actor. For the present his work was done, and he had time now to ponder upon his ups and downs, hardly able to believe that at last he was really on his homeward journey. He felt far more confident in the care of bluff Captain Hillgrove than in that of the fickle Peruvians.
Nor was his confidence misplaced, for the night passed without anything occurring to interrupt their progress, and when the sun rose the following morning it found them many leagues from land, and bowling merrily on their way.
Captain Hillgrove listened to his account of the fate of poor Plum Plucky with a feeling of sorrow, though he had never met the young American.
Jack’s return home was something of a triumph, though he was saddened by the loss of his companion during those trying scenes he could not put from his mind, while his longings to reach home were tinged with those forebodings one cannot escape who has been away so long, and the nearer he approached his native land the more ominous became those feelings!
Were his parents still living and well? Was--was Jenny still true to him? What had she thought of his long, weary years of absence? Until then he had not realized that he had been away so long.
At last the old Elizabeth was safely moored at her dock.
Though Captain Hillgrove was anxious to know what the result of their speculation was going to be, he allowed Jack time to hunt up his relatives and friends before the nitrate was moved from the ship’s hold.
I cannot begin to explain the joyous reception accorded our hero at his home, for many had given him up as dead.
With a tremulous tongue he asked for Jenny dreading, doubting, expecting he knew not what; and then his cup of happiness overflowed at the thrice-welcome news of her well-being and faithfulness to him, and that she had just returned to her native town.
Jenny was not only living and well, but she had never given up looking for him, believing he would some day return to her.
The sweet happiness of the meeting between the pair is too sacred to be revealed.
When the first transport of his reception home had passed, Jack proceeded to put on the market his ship-load of nitrate, to be met with another rebuff in the checkered wheel of fortune.
He could find no one with faith in the virtue of his product brought from the wilds of South America.
Captain Hillgrove began to think he had made a profitless voyage, though be it said to his credit, he stood ever by Jack.
The latter met the words of scorn uttered against him with his characteristic good-nature. Some of the nitrate was put in the hands of competent chemists, and still more with practical agriculturists.
“I shall win out,” said Jack confidently.
“I trust so with all my heart,” answered Jenny.
At last some favorable reports came in and then the load of nitrates was sold at a fair profit. Of the amount Jack got several hundred dollars, the rest going to the captain of the Elizabeth.
The one most satisfied with the result of this first cargo of nitrate was Captain Hillgrove. He had not expected great returns, but found himself so well paid that he was willing to return for another load as soon as possible.
Jack felt confident of his ultimate success. Already he was the possessor of a fair sum, and with the apparently unlimited deposits of nitrate now in his possession, he believed he could easily secure a fortune. As soon as he should get back to Peru he resolved to get possession of other nitrate beds before the price should advance.
But with that far-seeing sagacity of his he made no talk of what he had done or what he had in mind. Quietly he went about his work, engaging several ships to go to South America with him, prepared to return with loads of the precious substance. He fitted up an office at home and put a trusty man in the place to begin to work up a business. He had fondly looked forward to giving this place to Plum Plucky, but stern fate had decreed different plans.
Jenny was enthusiastic over her Jack’s plans, and that they might not be separated so long again she consented to their marriage, which took place before he started on his second trip to Peru, and she accompanied him.
Now that Jack had really got started in his speculations, he studied how best he might promote his interest. His young wife going with him to South America, he resolved to locate in that country until he had got fairly under control the gigantic business he intended to build up.
While successful in his nitrate ventures, he still preserved the manuscript he had picked up in the convict cell on the island of Robinson Crusoe, and he looked forward to the time when he should be able to visit the strange lake in the Andes with means to reach its mysterious island of buried treasure.
So at last, accompanied by a party of surveyors and explorers, armed with papers which would make him the owner of the whole region as soon as the boundaries could be fixed, he started for the place.
He had told his real object to no one, knowing that to do so would be to ruin his prospects without benefiting any one permanently.
He had no difficulty in leading the way to the spur of the Andes where he had met with his thrilling experience with the jaguars, and then the party started for the rocky ridge overlooking the niche in the mountains holding the Devil’s Waters.
It was a route that Jack had traveled several times, and feeling in the best of spirits, he set off on a galop, on the pony he was riding.
“Poor Plum!” he murmured, as he rode along. “How I wish he was a live to enjoy this with me.”
On and on went our hero until he came to where there was a break in the trail. He was absorbed in thought at the time and did not notice that his pony turned to the left instead of the right.
The way seemed easy, and presently the pony set off on a galop, which soon brought Jack out of his revery.
“Hullo! where am I going?” he asked himself, and brought his steed to a halt. Then he gazed around in perplexity. “I declare I must be lost!”
With the memory of what had happened when he had been lost before, Jack lost no time in turning back. But soon he became bewildered, and brought his steed to a standstill a second time.
“What does this mean, Firefly?” he asked of the pony, but the animal could not answer.
Jack heaved a sigh and then drew a pistol he carried.
“I’ll fire a shot--that will attract the attention of the others,” he reasoned. “What a dunce I was to get lost! I surely make a fine leader!” Throwing up the pistol he discharged it. Hardly had he done so when his pony started to bolt. Away dashed the steed under some trees and then through a mass of vines, and Jack was thrown to the ground, striking on his head as he fell,--and then his senses forsook him.
How long he laid where he had fallen he did not know exactly but when he came to his senses, it was to find darkness around him. There was no rain, but heavy clouds filled the air and a heavy breeze filled the woods around him. He got up slowly, to make certain that no bones were broken, and then looked around for his pony. The animal had disappeared and could not be found. His pistol was also gone.
“Now I am surely in a pickle,” reasoned Jack. “The question is, what am I to do next?”
He knew his party must have gone on long before this. He would have to find them in some way. But how?
Not relishing a stay in the bushes he started for higher ground. He had not gone a dozen rods when he found himself at the edge of a ravine, lined with tall trees and vines.
“I certainly did not come that way,” he said to himself. “But beyond is higher ground and I had better go up than down.”
Thus reasoning, he looked around for some means of getting over the ravine. A number of vines grew across, and he determined to test them and if they were strong enough, to use them as a rope for getting across.
The vines appeared to be as firm as a cable, and without giving the matter a second thought he launched himself forth and started to the other side of the cut in the forest.
He had progressed less than two yards when he felt one end of the vines giving way. He tried to turn back, but it was too late, and down he went.
Some heavy bushes broke his fall somewhat, but he continued to go down and down, until with a dull thud he landed on a mass of soft dirt. He was unharmed and soon arose to his feet, to gaze around in fresh dismay.
He had landed in an opening or cave, and presently went down into it still further. Then, as he picked himself up, he heard a sudden low growl, that filled him with fear. He strained his eyes and made out a small animal, which proved to be the cub of an ocelot.
He followed its course to a litter of leaves and straining his glance in that direction made out two other cubs.
They were too small to be dangerous. Plum had told him that there were very few ocelots in that vicinity and these rather cowardly, unless attacked or enraged.
Jack looked hurriedly around. The parent ocelot was not in evidence. The baby cub he had stumbled over, however, was making a great outcry, and our hero decided he would not linger any longer than was necessary.
He got under the hole he had fallen through. It was not accessible by climbing, for the walls of the cave were perfectly perpendicular and came nowhere near the central aperture.
Jack reached up and caught at the dangling end of the broken vine. It sustained one hard pull, but, as he set his full weight, it tore up roots and all, bringing down a shower of dirt and gravel.
About eight feet over his head the youth made out an exposed root of the tree. It ran out of the solid dirt a few inches, looped, and was again solidly imbedded.
If he could reach this, he could grasp higher pieces of roots that showed plainly, and easily draw himself to terra firma.
Our hero went back to the extreme end of the cave. The young cubs set up outcries of affright as he passed near them, but he paid no attention to them.
He braced for a run and a jump to reach the piece of root that was the bottom rung of a natural ladder to liberty.
Poised on one foot, Jack stood motionless in some dismay. The entrance to the cave was suddenly darkened. A great heavy body dropped through. The mother ocelot landed on four feet on the cave floor with a terrific growl.
She ran first to her crying cubs, nosed them affectionately, and then turned with low, ominous growlings.
Jack saw the beast’s eyes fix themselves upon him. They glowed with fire and fury. Its collar ruffled and its white teeth showed.
Jack had not so much as a stick to defend himself with. He had loaned his hunting knife to a friend when they first started and his pistol had been dropped in the woods.
In his pocket was a small pocket knife. He was groping for this when the ocelot, that had for a minute or two stood perfectly motionless, made a forward movement.
It was not a spring or a glide, but a rush. Jack knew why they called this species the Honey Eater. Its paws were enormous and armed with long curved sharp pointed claws.
He was hedged in. The beast, still advancing, reared on its hind feet.
Its forepaws were extended and whipping the air. Jack knew that one contact would tear the bark from the toughest tree. He mechanically seized the first object his groping fingers met in his coat pocket.
It was one of two condiment bottles that he had brought from the last camp. This was the one containing pepper.
In a desperate sort of a way Jack discovered this. He tore off the top of the bottle.
It was all that he could do to stay the course of the determined animal.
As the ocelot thrust out one formidable paw to tear its victim into its clasp, Jack flung the contents of the pepper bottle squarely into its eyes.
Jack ducked down and dodged the ocelot, and got past the animal. He could do this now, for the whole contents of the pepper bottle had gone squarely into the eyes of the beast.
The effect was indescribable. The animal gave a frightful roar, dropped to the floor, and, rolling over and over, tore frantically with its paws at its blinded, smarting eyes.
The cubs, excited and frightened by the uproar, joined in the chorus. They waddled around, getting in our hero’s way, and by their cries arousing the mother from her own distress.
She got upright, and seemed to spot Jack. Her advance, however, was clumsy and at fault, and the youth had time to get out of her way.
A second and a third rush she made at him. The last time one paw struck Jack’s coat sleeve and ripped it from place.
“This is getting serious,” murmured the lad. “Each time she comes swifter and surer. I must get out of here, now or never.”
Jack drove the cubs to their litter, and poked them with his foot. They set up a frantic uproar. This was just what he wanted. The mother flew towards her offspring.
The moment that she did so, Jack glided to the opposite wall of the cave.
He made a sharp run for the opening overhead, calculated poise and distance nicely, and landed with success.
He grabbed the rounding root. It held like iron, but his feet were dangling, and as he swayed there the big ocelot brushed by them on the hunt for the intruder.
Jack held firmly to the root and swung up his other hand. He caught at a higher tree root. Now he had a double hold.
He knew that the ocelot might come after him even up there, and lost no time in climbing from root to root. At last his head projected through the mesh of verdure into clear daylight. Jack lifted himself to solid ground and leaned against the tree trunk, out of breath and perspiring.
“That was action,” he panted. “Will the beast come after me? No--but something else may. Oh, the mischief!”
The roars and growlings down in the cave seemed to have attracted outside attention. Jack turned sharply, at the sound of crackling branches and rustling leaves at a densely-verdured spot near at hand.
There burst through the greenery a new enemy. This was an ocelot larger than the one he had just escaped from.
“That is the head of the family, sure,” thought Jack. “It’s a race, now.”
The new feature in the incident came straight for our hero, with bristling muzzle and fiery eyes. Jack started down the edge of the ravine.
It crumbled so that he could not make very rapid progress. To turn aside into the jungle meant to fight his way through thick, thorny bushes. To leap down into the dry water-course was even worse. There, as he knew, the spongy, shifting sand bottom would prevent even the progress of a decent walk.
Jack glanced back over his shoulder. The big ocelot, more sure-footed than himself, was following him up resolutely.
Jack took the first tree he came to. It was a dead one. There were lower branches within reach, and he swung himself up to its first crotch readily. The ocelot did not pause. It started up the tree without delay. Jack armed himself with a piece of a thick limb. Reaching down, as the beast got about four feet away, he delivered a smart whack directly across its snout.
The animal issued a terrific snort. Its eyes blazed madly. A second blow with the club brought the blood, but it kept on climbing.
Jack knew that it would be folly to tempt to battle at any closer quarters. He stood on a dead limb about twenty feet from the ground.
The limb was as thick as his arm, and over thirty feet long. It ran clear across the ravine, and a discovery of this fact gave Jack an idea.
He planned to go out to the far end of the limb, swing from its extremity and drop to the ground, landing on the ether bank of the cut.
The ocelot could not get hold or balance to venture as far out on the limb as the lad dared to go. Jack calculated that the time it lost in getting down to the ground again, would enable him to meantime put a considerable distance between himself and the enemy.
The lad sat astride the dead tree branch and began to walk himself outward from the main trunk of the tree.
The ocelot reached the crotch, surveyed Jack with a savage growl, and carefully planting its feet, started out after him.
Its progress was slow. Jack hitched himself along more rapidly. The branch began to creak. Our hero doubted if it would sustain their double weight. However, he trusted to the wary instinct of the ocelot, which kept coming right forward. Jack was about eight feet from the end of the branch when it gave a very ominous crack. In fact, he saw the white splinters show where it joined the tree.
He swung both feet to one side of the limb, held on only by his fingers, and planned to get to its end hand over hand.
Snap! Jack hurried progress, but it was no use. He saw the ocelot crouch and hug the limb. It gave way at its base. Jack let go. He landed directly on the smooth, sandy bottom of that portion of the ravine.
He struck the ground upright, squarely with both feet. Glancing quickly at the tree, he saw that the branch had whipped right down against the trunk.
The limb had not entirely broken loose, but swayed from several sustaining wood filaments. The ocelot, still hugging the limb, was clawing frantically at the main trunk of the tree to get a new hold there to keep from a tumble.
“It won’t do to stop, I see that,” murmured Jack. “Ugh! what kind of a mushy mess have I got into?”
Jack looked down at his feet. They had sunk into the sand and were covered to the ankles. With the greatest difficulty he pulled out one foot.
The instant he put it down again in a new spot, however, it sank afresh. He released the other. This threw his weight on a single foot, which went down half way to the knee.
It was not ten feet to the bank of the ravine. Jack lost all interest in the ocelot as he thrilled at a startling discovery.
“Quicksand!” he breathed hastily. “There is not a moment to lose!”
Our hero tugged to get the sunken foot free. He succeeded. Then, half-dancing about, he threw himself flat.
His idea was to make a hurried scramble for the bank on hands and knees. But he uttered a cry of the greatest alarm as his hands went down into the treacherous mass clear to the wrists.
It took a great effort to get upright again. By the time he had done so, Jack realized that he was in a most serious and critical situation.
He was sunk now clear to the knees in a weaving, shifting mass. It circled his imprisoned limbs like great moving ropes, pulling him downward with a suction force that was tremendous.
The youth uttered a grasp of real horror. He could not budge either limb. As he sank to the thighs, he gave himself up for lost.
He saw that no help of any kind whatever was at hand. He knew that the camp of the men who had come with him must be near. He raised his voice to a desperate pitch.
He let out a series of the most piercing yells. But his heart sank, as from the neighboring jungle there instantly arose a mocking imitation from the throats of several parrots.
They drowned out his cries for help. Jack shuddered as the shifting sands wound about his waist. He drew up his tingling fingers with a shock as the mass swept them in ominous, warning contact.
“It is the last of me,” thought Jack, as tears of despair came to his eyes. “Jenny and the folks will never know my fate!”
Jack looked up at the dark sky, sick at heart, but trying to resign himself to the terrible fate that hung over him.
His glance shifted to the tree. He instinctively dodged his head to one side as he did so. Something spirited was happening there.
The ocelot had got a clutch on the main tree trunk, now. As it let go of the dangling limb, however, this parted under the strain.
Its small end struck the ground, and it swung out, coming for Jack and threatened to crush him.
The limb fell with a crash, the big end just reaching the west side of the ravine. Its centre grazed our hero’s shoulder.
“I am saved!” cried Jack.
He threw one arm tightly around the limb, then the other. Now he was clinging to a natural bridge spanning the ravine from one side to the other.
Jack held on and tugged hard to draw himself up from this quicksand bath.
It was hard work. Finally he got one limb free, then the other. They were numb, and felt like pieces of lead.
Jack was so exhausted with the effort that, crawling on top of the limb, he lay there lengthwise, almost exhausted.
It was a good quarter of an hour before Jack felt like making another move. As he lay on the log he kept a lookout for the ocelots, but neither of the beasts appeared, the larger having gone to the cave-like opening to learn what was the matter with its mate.
“I must get away from this vicinity,” thought our hero, and at last started off.
He scarcely knew in what direction to turn, for the running away of his pony and his adventures with the wild beasts and in the quicksands had completely bewildered him.
“I’d give a good round sum to be back with our party,” he thought, as he pushed his way through the jungle. “I wonder if they are out searching for me?”
At last he had to rest again, and thinking himself safe for the time being he set about cleaning his hands and face, and also his outfit.
“This is certainly treasure hunting with a vengeance,” he mused. “I think I would have done better had I stuck to the nitrates. Maybe I’ll lose my life and the vultures will pick my bones, just as they did poor Plum’s.”
It made our hero more dismal than ever to think of how Plum had departed, and he was very sober as night drew on and he still found himself alone and with no idea of where he was.
“I’ll have to stay here alone in the dark,” he said, half aloud. “That won’t be pleasant, but it can’t be helped.”
Soon it was so dark that to advance further would have been foolish.
Accordingly Jack came to a halt, and looked around for some means of making himself comfortable for the night.
He did not deem it wise to remain on the ground, where some wild beast might leap upon him, and so looked for some wide-spreading tree among whose branches he might rest in peace.
At length he found a tree to his liking and having taken a final look around, ascended to a number of the upper branches.
Here there was a sort of natural platform, where he might lie without much danger of falling to the ground.
It was now pitch dark, the clouds obscuring the stars in the heavens. He was very hungry but had absolutely nothing with which to gratify his appetite.
“I’ll have to get something for breakfast,” he reasoned. “If I don’t I’ll be likely to starve to death.”
It was but natural that Jack should find sleep difficult, and it was a good two hours before he went off soundly. When he awoke it was with a start.
Jack listened intently, for he realized that some movement at the foot of the tree had awakened him. He tried to look downward, but the darkness and the leaves hid everything from view. He waited with bated breath and soon heard a faint scratching. That some wild animal was at the foot of the tree he had no doubt.
“I hope it doesn’t try to come up,” he thought. “If it does, what am I to do?”
He did not dare to make a noise, and so remained silently on guard. The minutes went by slowly, until a good hour had passed. The noises below continued but that was all.
“Well, even if the beast can’t get up it evidently intends to tree me,” thought Jack, dismally.
Sleep was out of the question, and rather impatiently the youth waited for the coming of dawn.
At last came a faint light in the east and at last daylight was at hand.
For some time Jack had heard no further noises below him and he fondly hoped the thing on the ground--whatever it was--had gone away. But now the noise was repeated, and then came another sound that made him start in wonder and anticipation.
“Can it be possible!” he murmured, and began to climb down the tree with all speed. Soon he reached the lower branches, and looking downward saw his pony resting directly under him!
“Blind luck!” he cried. “And I thought it was a wild beast! How foolish I was not to come down and take a look!”
Not to scare the pony, Jack called out softly, at which the steed pricked up its ears. Then our hero slid down the tree to the ground and caught the pony by the head. It did not offer to run away, but whinnied with evident satisfaction.
It gave Jack great pleasure to find the pony again, and he felt far less lonely than he had during the night. He mounted into the saddle, and, guided by the sun turned in the direction where he thought the mountain trail might lie.
It was a dull day, a peculiar smoky air filling the jungle.
From a distance came the cry of wild birds, but that was all.
Jack journeyed for a good two hours, and then came to what looked like another ravine. But the banks were not so steep as before and he had but little difficulty in going down one side and getting up the other.
“Well, I never!”
This was the cry that burst from his lips half an hour later. A moment before he had realized that the surroundings looked familiar. Now, on the ground before him, he saw his lost pistol, shining among the grass and leaves.
He lost no time in securing the weapon. It was ready for use and with great satisfaction he placed it in his pocket.
“Now I’ve got something with which to defend myself,” he reasoned. “It may not be as good as a gun, but it is better than nothing.”
Onward he went once more, stopping once to get some handsful of berries which he knew were good to eat, and then again for a drink of water for himself and his steed. He had left his former trail, fearful of going in a circle once more,--a common experience of those traveling in a dense forest.
By noon Jack was more than hungry and he decided to shoot something and cook it for a meal. He kept his eyes open, and when some plump birds came close, brought down two with ease. Then a fire was lit, and he spitted the birds and broiled them to his satisfaction. He took his time over the meal, allowing his pony to graze in the meanwhile. Close at hand was a spring of cold, mountain water and at this he quenched his thirst, and the pony did the same.
“There, that makes me feel better,” said the youth to himself. “It will last me until nightfall, and by that time I ought to be able to find the others of the party, or gain some regular trail which leads to somewhere.”
So speaking Jack started to get into the saddle once more. As he did so, he heard a rustling in the leaves of some bushes behind the spring. The pony gave a violent snort and gave a side step, which threw our hero to the ground.
“Whoa there, Firefly!” he called out. “Whoa, I say!”
But instead of quieting down, the pony became more violent and it was impossible for Jack to hold the steed. The pony broke away and like a flash whirled around and disappeared once more into the jungle.
Somewhat bewildered, Jack stood up and gazed around him.
“What can this mean?” he asked himself. The next instant he saw the reason for the pony’s extreme fright. A snake had appeared, coming rapidly over the rocks. It was ten or twelve feet long and as thick as a man’s arm. It was hissing viciously and had its glittering eyes fastened full upon our hero!
It was no wonder that Jack was both startled and alarmed. The snake was certainly powerful, and the youth knew that many of the reptiles of that vicinity were poisonous. A sting might mean death, and if the snake should wind itself about him, he might be strangled until his breath was gone, never to return.
By instinct more than reason he leaped to one side. At this the snake, hissing louder than ever, did likewise. Then Jack made a wild leap into the air, caught a low-hanging tree branch, and hauled himself upward.
For the time being our hero was clear of the snake, but he felt far from comfortable. He perched himself on the limb and watched the reptile closely. It whipped this way and that over the ground as if in high anger over missing its intended prey.
Thus several minutes passed. The snake circled the tree three times and then began to come up with a quickness that chilled Jack to the bone. There was no help for it, and pulling his pistol, the youth blazed away at the snake. The first shot took no effect, but the second hit the reptile fairly in the body. It whipped around its head for a moment, then came forward as before.
Jack was as far out on the limb as he could get, and now, as the snake came forward, he blazed away a third and fourth time. Then he let himself drop to the ground.
As he did this, the reptile thrashed around wildly in the tree, hitting one limb after another with its tail. Then it came to the ground in a heap, writhing horribly in its death agonies. Jack had wounded it fatally, but the body would continue to move until sundown, if not longer. When the scare was over the youth found himself bathed in a cold perspiration and trembling as if with the ague. He realized that he had had a narrow escape, and thanked providence that the snake was dead.
Jack did not remain in that vicinity long, but set at once to work to find his pony. Fortunately the animal had not gone far on this occasion and a call soon brought the steed to the youth’s side. Then Jack hopped into the saddle once more.
“Gracious! what a lot of adventures I am having!” he murmured, as he again rode along. “I hope I don’t have any more.”
On and on through the forest rode Jack, gradually gaining higher ground. The sun was breaking through the smoky air and this did something towards raising his spirits.
A good two miles covered, and our hero came out in a clearing some distance above the jungle. Here he could get a tolerable view of the surrounding country and he looked eagerly for some trace of his party. To the southward he made out what he took to be the smoke of a camp-fire, but that was all.
“I may as well turn in that direction,” he reasoned. “Where there is a fire there must be human beings. And as the war is now at an end it isn’t likely that they will harm me.”
For some distance the new route was an easy one, but then it became rougher and rougher, until riding was all but impossible. At some points he had to dismount and lead the pony. Once both went into a rocky hollow, Jack barking a shin and the pony skinning a knee.
“I hope this doesn’t last very far,” thought the youth. The roughness continued a quarter of a mile, when he came out on a beautiful grassy plain, at the rear of which he saw a thatched house and a small garden enclosure containing a score or more of chickens.
As he approached the house an old man came forth to meet him. He viewed Jack with astonishment, for visitors in that lonely spot were rare. “Where does the most noble señor come from?” he asked, bowing low.
“I came from the town far below here,” answered Jack. “I have lost my way,” and then as well as he was able he described the road he wished to find.
“The Americano señor is a long distance from that road,” said the native.
“Can you guide me to it?” questioned the youth, eagerly. “I will pay you well for your services.”
At the mention of pay the native showed an increased interest. He was naturally a lazy fellow, but the promise of a Peruvian half dollar made him hustle to take Jack on his way. He too had a pony, and soon the pair set off, across the plateau and then through a sparingly grown forest, where some of the trees were of enormous height.
“What had made the air so smoky?” questioned Jack, as they rode along. “Have there been heavy forest fires?”
“No forest fires, señor,” the native answered. “The smoke comes from the bowels of the earth. The rocks have opened once more--we shall soon have an earthquake.”
“You think so?” cried Jack. He had experienced several slight earthquakes while in that quarter of the globe, and, though they had done small harm, he dreaded the coming of another quake.
“Yes, señor.”
“How soon?”
“Two, three days, it may be--or perhaps a week,” answered the native.
After that they rode along in silence for fully half a mile, when they reached a trail running east and west.
“Is this the road the señor is looking for?” asked the native, bringing his pony to a halt.
“I believe it is,” answered Jack. “But I must look around first to see if my party has passed this way.”
He surveyed the scene with care, but could find no trace of the others. Had they come thus far, or had they turned back, in a hunt for him? Jack was in a quandary over what to do next. Night was again coming on, and he had no desire to remain alone again, after his many adventures of the past twenty-four hours.
“Where can we stop around here?” he asked.
“The señor wants his humble servant to remain with him over night?”
“Yes, unless some other house is handy, and others there.”
“There is a house not far away, but it is empty.”
“Then let us go to it. It will be better to remain there than to stay in the open.”
They went up the trail a short distance, and then turned to the southward and took to a side road leading through a patch of high brushwood. Crossing a tiny mountain torrent, they came in sight of a dilapidated house, one end of which was all but wrecked. To the surprise of both Jack and his guide, smoke was issuing from behind the structure.
“Somebody must be here after all,” said the youth, as he rode forward.
“It must be a stranger, señor,” was the native’s reply.
Not to fall into the hands of enemies Jack advanced with caution. As he rounded the end of the dilapidated house, he saw a bright fire burning among some piled-up stones. In front of this fire a tall young man, dressed in rags, was crouching, cooking something in a battered pan. As Jack came closer the young man suddenly leaped to his feet, uttering a cry of alarm. Then he gave another cry, and dropping the pan with its contents to the ground, he rushed forward with wide-stretched arms yelling at the top of his voice.
“Jack! Jack! It is really my own Jack! Oh, how glad I am to see yeou!”