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CHAPTER XIX
The Call for Help
“QUICK!” yelled Mr. Holton to anyone who might hear. “Turn the head around or we’ll be swamped at once.”
The Indian who was steering heard and was doing his best to swerve the craft about, but he was having little luck. The terrible rapids was reluctant to yield to the puny efforts of a mere human being.
Water was now dashing into the boat, and if this were to continue there could be but one outcome – tragedy!
This time it was Bob who came to the rescue.
Pushing the Indian aside, he jumped into the seat and caught hold of the paddle, at the same time giving the rudder a swift turn about.
There was a roar and a swish, and the next moment the boat had swerved around and was facing the current head first, leaving the treacherous whirlpool far behind.
“Great work, son!” panted Mr. Holton. “You saved the day that time.”
It was now evident that the worst was over, for the current was gradually losing its terrible force. Slowly but surely they were pulling away from the perilous rapids, and if their good fortune continued, they would soon be in calm waters.
“Unless,” said Joe soberly, “we strike another whirlpool.”
But no other whirlpool barred their way, and soon they were safely riding the calm ripples farther downstream.
For the first time they were given a chance to relax. Their faces were red from exertion; their bodies were dripping with perspiration. In short, they were greatly fatigued.
“The most thrilling adventure we’ve had since we started,” remarked Bob, rubbing his forehead.
“It was a terribly narrow escape,” affirmed Professor Bigelow, not bearing to think of the tragedy that was so closely averted.
“We owe our lives to you boys,” praised Mr. Lewis. “It was your thought and action that prevented the boat from being dashed to pieces. First Joe came across with a plan that kept us from striking the rocks. Then Bob swerved the boat around out of the whirlpool. If it hadn’t been for you – ”
“Forget it!” Bob dismissed the subject as best he could, and then asked his friends’ opinion of where they now were.
“Probably halfway to the junction with the mainstream,” replied Mr. Holton. “That rapids carried us along at a terrific speed.”
His opinion proved correct, for they reached the Tapauá early the next morning and turned the boats to retrace the distance covered the day before.
“Might as well consider that much time wasted,” said Joe. “For about a day the journey will be a repetition of what it was two days ago.”
They did not mind the delay, however. That is, all but Professor Bigelow, who was anxious to find the strange tribe that Otari had spoken about. Every mile that went behind them lagged, to him, till it seemed that he was almost in a nightmare. Even after they had made up for the lost time and were paddling several score miles farther upstream, he was irritated. It was clearly evident that his impatient scientific enthusiasm was getting the better of him.
As they traveled on, his anxiety increased rather than lessened, for they were getting nearer the region occupied by the savages.
“The old boy’s so excited he can hardly wait,” smiled Joe, aside to his chum.
“He’s anxious to test his wits against the cannibals,” returned Bob. “Wants to stay for dinner, maybe.”
They camped that night on a wide sand bank, at the base of a rocky knoll. After the evening meal, they sat in a group about the firelight, chatting merrily, despite the fact that they were near, or perhaps in, the cannibal country.
They turned in early, and the night passed without incident.
“Well,” smiled Mr. Holton the next morning as he went about preparing breakfast, “nothing happened to disturb our deep slumber.”
“Perhaps we are not quite near enough the dangerous territory,” replied Professor Bigelow. “But according to Otari, we shouldn’t have to travel much farther.”
That morning, for the first time, two of the crew began to show signs of uneasiness. It was Bob who first noticed them talking in muffled tones, and upon listening, he found that they did not like the idea of going into this unknown country that was the abode of wild savages. But as they appeared to come to no conclusion, Bob turned to help prepare the meal.
After breakfast they paddled on upstream in search of a suitable hunting area, for the naturalists wished to go ashore and add to their collection.
At every point of the compass the scenery was beautiful beyond description. There were steep, jagged cliffs, densely overgrown with the brilliant green of tropical vegetation; tall forest giants, towering a hundred feet into the sky; gorgeously colored flowers that sent their sweet fragrance far afield.
Mr. Holton broke the enchanted silence. “Here we are,” he said, singling out a stopping place.
The boats were turned into a little cove, behind which was a stretch of smooth country.
The naturalists and their sons picked out guns and prepared to leave on a hunting trip, but Professor Bigelow announced that he would remain at the boats to read.
“Don’t see how he can read on a morning like this,” murmured Joe. “This cool air gets under my skin and cries ‘action, action!’”
They decided to take all but two of the crew with them to help carry in specimens, and strangely enough the two Indians who remained behind were the ones Bob had heard talking about not liking the prospect of penetrating into this unknown country.
Bob wondered if it would be safe to leave things as they were. For a moment he thought of appealing to the others to change the situation, but thought better of it and followed on into the forest. After all, nothing would probably come of the happening.
“We want to get a jaguar today if it’s at all possible,” said Mr. Lewis, his keen eyes scanning the surrounding trees, as if he expected to find one of the big cats lurking there.
“A jaguar!” repeated Joe. “Fine. We’ll get one if there’s any around.”
They tramped on for about five minutes before seeing any game but monkeys and bright-colored birds. Then Mr. Lewis caught sight of a long, lithe body gliding over the tangled underbrush.
The others saw, too, and they raised their rifles and fired.
The snake was immediately made into pulp, and the hunters ran up to examine it.
“Coral snake,” said Mr. Holton, recognizing the striped body. “Whether it’s poisonous I don’t know. Here is one reptile that cannot easily be distinguished as to whether it is of the harmless or poisonous variety.”
The reptile was no good as a specimen, and they passed it by.
Suddenly Mr. Holton stopped still in his tracks and pointed to a low tree bough not far away. The others looked and then shrank back in awe.
There, resting peacefully in the shaded depths of a limb, was a huge, powerful jaguar, its spotted coat showing in strange contrast to the surrounding jungle.
“Back,” whispered Mr. Holton, slowly raising his rifle.
Carefully the naturalist took aim, while the others stood by with ready rifles.
Bang! The bullet sped true.
There was a terrific pawing and clutching at the bough, but to no avail. A second later the great cat fell to the ground, moved convulsively for a moment, and then lay still.
“Hurrah!” cried Bob. “Our first jaguar.”
“The biggest and most dangerous animal of South America,” chimed in Mr. Lewis.
At once the skin was ripped off and then placed in a bag carried by the crew.
A little later Bob was several score feet behind the others, examining a peculiar plant that had small blue flowers. As he started to pluck one he suddenly heard a faint cry that seemed to come from the direction of the river.
At first he thought it was some strange bird, but when he heard it again he was immediately on the alert. That a bird? Absurd. But what could it be?
Then a thought struck him, and he almost turned pale. It was Professor Bigelow!
He called to the others to follow and then turned and ran with all speed to the boats.
CHAPTER XX
Fighting Against Heavy Odds
BOB had often run in track races at high school, but never had he equaled the pace that was now taking him to the boats. It was as though wings had suddenly lifted him through space at an alarming rate of speed.
The youth had all he could do to prevent coming in contact with thorns and fringed plants, but he did his best. But what of thorns when Professor Bigelow needed help?
On and on he went, swinging his rifle over shrubs and bushes. At times it was necessary to hold his arms high above his head to prevent striking limbs and other projections.
At last, after what seemed a terribly long time, he parted the foliage and gazed ahead to see what was happening. Then a look of rage came on his face.
On the river bank a terrific struggle was taking place between Professor Bigelow and the two Indians who had been left behind. The men had the professor down, and the latter’s face was ghastly white as strong arms and hands tried to choke him into unconsciousness. Occasionally he would manage to call out a muffled cry for assistance.
For a moment Bob took in the situation carefully. Then he rushed at the men with rage and fury and landed on the back of the one nearest, bearing him to the ground with a thud. The Indians glanced up in surprise at this abrupt interruption, and they turned to deal with this new enemy.
One of the men gained his feet and launched himself with all force at Bob’s side, the impact hurling the youth from the back of the first man. But Bob shook the fellow off and threw an arm around his neck with the strength of one in desperation. There was a terrific struggle, and the two thrashed about, neither able to gain the upper hand. Bob gripped the Indian’s neck with all his strength, and the man’s face began to turn purple from the terrific strain. It was clearly evident that he would soon be put out of the fight.
But the other Indian was not motionless. In fact if it had not been for him, the youth would have had the better of the first fellow, for he was slowly giving out. But suddenly Bob felt a heavy body landing on his back and had to release his hold on the first man.
This again gave the Indians the advantage, and they were quick to sense their chance.
Bob soon saw that he could gain nothing as things were. He must resort to some other means.
Professor Bigelow was now beginning to show signs of life, but he was so badly battered that what little he did to help amounted to nothing, for he was soon sent sprawling to the ground.
Suddenly Bob gained his feet, intent upon resorting to boxing, a method that the Indians probably knew little about.
A quick glance around showed that his friends had arrived and were making for the boats as fast as they could. But it was only a glance, for the Indians were rushing at him with redoubled force.
Bob caught the first man squarely between the eyes and sent him sprawling to the ground in a dazed condition. The other Indian saw that it would be useless to continue the fight, for the other whites were returning fast.
He turned and made for the boat, Bob at his heels. The youth suspected that the man was going after a gun, and he was right. But he hardly had the revolver in his hand when Bob pounced upon him and wrenched the weapon from his grip. One hard blow put him out of the fight.
Then, for the first time, Bob drew a long breath. He was panting and gasping from exertion, but he hurried over to Professor Bigelow.
“Are you all right?” he asked.
“Yes,” the professor replied, getting to his feet. And then: “That was a wonderful fight you put up, Bob. If you had come much later, the Indians would have escaped with the boat and our provisions.”
“So that was their game!” said Mr. Lewis angrily, glancing at the still limp Indian on shore. “They wanted to put you out and then escape with the boats, leaving us here to starve!”
He drew his fist, and for a moment it looked as if another fight were going to take place.
“Just for that we should desert them,” gritted Joe.
“Can hardly do that,” said Mr. Holton. “It would amount to the same as murder for robbery, and such punishment is unjust. Now if they had killed one of our party it might be different. Even then I’d hesitate to do it.”
“But they’ve got to have some kind of punishment,” persisted Joe. “Who knows but that they’ll attempt the same thing later?”
“We’ll have to keep a close lookout,” returned the professor. “If we see any more treachery we won’t dare take any more chances.”
The other members of the crew could not understand the actions of the two would-be deserters, and at once cast them aside as traitors, calling them names which, had they been translated into English, would have been extremely shocking to civilized persons.
In a short time the two Indians emerged into consciousness, and they sat awaiting any fate that might be thrust upon them. The explorers were at a loss to know what to do with the men, but they finally decided to give them hard jobs in full view of all, so that they could neither escape again with the boats nor get the others of the crew to thinking their way.
“Probably won’t have any more trouble,” remarked Mr. Lewis, as they prepared to start up the river again. “We’ll keep a sharp lookout, and if we see any more dishonesty we’ll act accordingly.”
The specimens were prepared, and they resumed the journey up the river, hoping that few more days would pass before they found the unknown Indians. The whites were anxious and yet rather fearful to come in contact with them, fortified as the boats were. Professor Bigelow, however, took the matter lightly, and often when his friends thought of his numerous visits to strange tribes, many of them hostile, they were inclined to cast aside their worries and leave the future happenings to him. For surely, with his wide experience, he could see to any predicament.
“We want to make good time today,” said Mr. Holton. “Twenty-five miles, at least.”
“We will,” Joe’s father assured him. “Unless,” he added, “more rapids hold us back.”
“I don’t think – I hardly believe they will,” Professor Bigelow said, but this was a statement of hope rather than of conviction.
Bob and Joe constantly took motion pictures of the country they were passing through, and often they took the cameras with them on hunting trips, to photograph not only wild life but any adventures that they might have. The number of feet of exposed film had grown to nearly a thousand, and they intended to make it several more before they “closed” the picture. They were allowed four thousand feet and fully expected to use all of it.
The next day after the fracas with the traitorous Indians, they were paddling swiftly along when suddenly there was a jar and a crash, and the foremost boat was sent aside and heading in the opposite direction. At once the explorers were on their feet and had their rifles in ready grasp. They cautiously peered over the side into the river, half expecting to see a dozen or more savages leap out and make for the boat.
But no savages came. Instead there arose a large black body, nearly ten feet long, shaped like a seal, with the faintest suggestion of fins protruding from its side. For a moment it glanced about, then swam on up the river.
“A manatee,” said Mr. Holton. “Or sea-cow, if you prefer that name.”
“Sure is a whopper,” observed Joe. “Looks like it might be dangerous. Is it?”
“No,” his father replied. “One of the most harmless animals of South America.”
Mr. Lewis raised his rifle to bring the creature down as a specimen, but just as he prepared to pull the trigger it darted below the water and swam off at a rapid pace, leaving a thin streak of ripples behind. Then the naturalists saw that shooting would mean only a waste of bullets.
A few miles on they came upon another rapids and saw that it would be necessary to lay a portage of logs along the river bank in order to get the boats through. Anxious to make time, they worked untiringly and had the task completed in a short time.
“Now to get the boats through,” said Mr. Holton, beginning to unload their contents.
The canoes were heavy, even with the provisions removed, and it required all the combined strength of the whites and the Indian crew to get them beyond the rough stretch. But the undertaking was finally finished.
Next the provisions were carried around, placed in the boats, and the latter were moved into the river. At last the strenuous task was completed.
“Ready to go again?” asked Joe.
“It’s about noon,” said Professor Bigelow. “I suggest that we get a lunch.”
The others agreed, and an ample repast was prepared.
Then Mr. Lewis advised that they take it easy under low palm trees. The others, with the exception of Bob and Joe, were glad of a chance to repose. The boys, however, were restless and eager to explore the surrounding territory. Unlike their elders, their tireless limbs cried out for action, even after hard labor.
“We’ll be careful and not take any chances,” Joe assured the men.
But had they realized what dangerous country they were in, they would never have started out.
CHAPTER XXI
Magnificent Country
THERE was a rocky hill not far away, and it was Joe who expressed a desire to go over and climb to the top.
“Fairly high,” he remarked. “Ought to be able to get a good view of the surrounding territory.”
“Yes,” Bob agreed. “Maybe we can catch sight of an Indian village in the distance. The unknown tribe! Be fine if we could be the ones to locate it, wouldn’t it?”
“Sure would. Professor Bigelow would be delighted beyond words. Think of the rumpus he’d kick up if we announced that we’d found the savages he’s been hunting.”
It was a distance of less than a half-mile to the foot of the knoll, and the youths made it in a very few minutes. Then they began the task of climbing the jagged side. There was little vegetation to hinder their progress, although twisted vines and shrubs were rather numerous on the ground.
“The undergrowth offers footholds that we could not otherwise find,” said Bob. “Here’s a place where it comes in handy, even though most of the time it’s merely something to avoid.”
At last, panting and perspiring, the youths reached the top of the hill and then turned to glance down below. Jungle, jungle, jungle! Nothing but heavily wooded country stretched before them. As far as the eye could see the great tropical forest loomed up – in green, brown, red. It was as though all the world were covered with dense vegetation. The boys turned about.
On the other side was the river, winding through gulches and hills and stretching out of sight in the distance. Opposite the hill were the boats, and under trees not far away were the explorers resting peacefully in the shade.
It was a spectacular view, and Bob and Joe spent several minutes in silently gazing down.
“No evidence of human habitation anywhere around,” remarked Bob, trying to single out a settlement somewhere in the distance.
In the vast, silent jungle sound travels far, and realizing this, the youths shouted to the others, to let them know of their commanding position.
“Now let’s get down from here and tramp on through the forest,” said Joe, finding a foothold in the heavy soil.
It was necessary to exercise more care in descending, for the rocks were pointed and dangerous to step on. A safe place had to be felt out cautiously.
The youths reached the bottom in a very short time, however, and followed a narrow trail that wound out of sight.
“Be impossible to cut through this jungle if there were no trails of any kind,” said Bob, his keen eyes unable to penetrate the tangled mass of vegetation on either side of them.
“Not without a machete, anyway,” nodded Joe. “Even then it would be a hard job.”
The youths hiked on until they came to a small stream that emptied into the river. They sat down on the bank to take in their surroundings.
On the other side of the stream was a break in the ground that indicated the presence of a gully – how steep, they did not know. They resolved to find out as soon as they had rested.
“Unless,” said Joe, “we can’t get across the creek. Never can tell how many alligators and piranhas have migrated here from the river.”
He picked up a stone and threw it with all his strength into the muddy water, hoping to arouse any life that might be lurking sluggishly out of sight. Once he thought he detected a slight ripple other than that caused by the stone but was not sure.
“Don’t believe I care to wade it,” backed out Bob. “Wouldn’t feel funny to have a toe nipped off by a piranha, or worse yet, to be carried into an alligator’s lair. Suppose we throw a log across for safety.”
They spent several more minutes sitting on the bank in idleness. At last Joe got up and looked about the near-by jungle.
“No logs around here,” he called to Bob, who had wandered along the bank.
Further search was not in vain. A small tree that had been uprooted by a hurricane lay in a patch of bushes not far away, and it was carried to the stream and thrown across. Then the youths began carefully walking along its narrow surface.
Bob reached the other side first, and he warned his friend to be careful. Joe was, and in a few moments also had crossed the log.
“Now let’s see what’s beyond that ravine,” he said.
They walked over to the edge and then halted abruptly, awe-stricken and spellbound at the wonderful panorama that stretched out before them. They were standing at the brink of a two-hundred-foot canyon, which sloped down and back up to form a perfect U. At the very bottom was a large grove of huge red flowers, which added not a little to the beauty of the scene.
“Some view,” breathed Joe, gazing far ahead at the distant jungle.
Bob nodded. “Bet we can see twenty miles or more,” he said. “And nothing but dense jungle.”
The youths spent several more minutes in looking off into space. They could not tear themselves away from the wonderful view. It seemed almost impossible to come suddenly upon such a gulch in a land that seemed fairly level.
At last Bob shouldered his rifle as a signal to move on.
“Can’t spend too much time here if we expect to do any more exploring,” he said, looking at his watch. “They’ll expect us back in another hour.”
“Where’ll we go next?”
“No difference to me. How about down the hill?”
They hiked down the gradual slope of the canyon, although the jungle was in places impenetrable.
When about halfway down, Joe stopped suddenly, his face an ashen gray, his limbs trembling. Bob’s eyes opened wide, and he clutched his rifle tightly.
The next moment there came a horrid hiss, and the thirty-foot anaconda lunged forward.
