Lost in the Wilds of Brazil

It was thought best not shoot any of the reptiles for fear of causing an undue commotion. Then, too, it would prove difficult to get the victims in the boat with so many others around.

In a short time no traces of the creatures were left, and the Indians again turned to the paddles.

“Is it safe to go on?” asked Joe.

“Yes,” the professor replied. “They probably won’t attack the boats. And if they should they could do little or no damage to the stout hulls.”

For a few seconds he conversed with the Indians. Then the party resumed the journey, keeping a close watch about.

No more was seen of the alligators, and the explorers again were quiet. But now they were more anxious than ever before, for the past experience had stirred their sporting blood and made them long for a jaunt in the forest. Even Professor Bigelow was affected, and he sat fingering his rifle as if awaiting another such incident.

“Alligators and crocodiles are very much alike,” said Mr. Lewis, wishing to break the silence. “The only difference is in the canine teeth. In the alligator they fit into pits in the upper jaw; in the crocodile they fit into notches. Otherwise they look alike.”

“Which is the most ferocious?” inquired Joe, thoroughly interested.

“Scarcely any difference,” his father returned. “Both are bad enough when they’re after you.”

For a time the adventurers paddled near the center of the river, in order to avoid heavy piles of brush that lay near the shore’s edge. They did not feel like talking. The mid-afternoon sun beat down upon them until they were dripping with perspiration. Why, even summer Florida weather was nothing to this!

The water glistened like silver. It was almost impossible even to cast eyes upon it, for the reflection of the sun was extremely blinding.

For entertainment and amusement the boys’ fathers and Professor Bigelow related some of their experiences, which Bob and Joe never grew tired of hearing. The naturalists told of encounters with wild animals; the professor, of savage people. Bob and Joe sat in silence, marveling that before long they could tell of happenings probably as much or more breath-taking.

Suddenly, as they neared a patch of bright red bushes, Mr. Holton called to the Indians to stop the boat.

“What is it?” asked Bob, and then his gaze followed that of his father.

Not far away on a low branch was a large oriole, almost the size of a crow, with a red and white bill, and yellow, green, and brown plumage. It uttered not a word, although no one doubted that it could.

“We must have that bird,” whispered Mr. Holton. “It is rather rare, and few of them are in museums. Keep quiet now, while I get a small gun.”

The others obeyed. The naturalist found a suitable shotgun. He raised it to his shoulder, took careful aim, and pulled the trigger.

The next moment there was a terrible screeching and wailing. The bird fluttered about for a brief second, then fell into the water.

“You got him,” said Bob joyously. “You – Well, of all things!”

The reason for his exclamation was not far to seek. No sooner had the bird struck the water than a rather small fish darted to the surface, caught the bird by the breast, and bit it in two. It evidently did not like the taste, however, for the remains of the bird’s body were left to float on the water.

“Stung!” exclaimed Mr. Holton, regaining his breath. “The piranhas spoiled the chance of getting that specimen.”

“So that fish was a piranha?” asked Joe, looking to see if he could locate it in the dark water.

“Yes,” Mr. Lewis returned. “They’re mean creatures, all right. Got a temper like a bull. They’ll attack anything from jaguars to people, and they usually do the job right. I once heard of a man devoured by them in a very short time.”

“It wasn’t very large,” said Bob. “Looked about like a pickerel to me.”

“It isn’t their size,” his father returned. “It’s their ferocity – and strong, sharp teeth.”

“Let’s don’t worry about the bird,” consoled the professor. “We’ll probably see more of them later on.”

The naturalists resolved to follow the professor’s advice and regard the matter as one of the many discouragements that could be expected at almost any time.

“After all, we didn’t lose much,” said Mr. Lewis. “But then – but then – ”

As they paddled on, signs of life became more frequent. Once there was a small flock of bright red birds, and the naturalists had more luck in bringing them in as specimens. None was shot near the river; only those on shore were aimed at. A little later they saw the first monkeys since they had turned down this river. They had often heard the little creatures in the depths of the jungle, but had never been successful in getting a glimpse of them.

Along toward evening Mr. Lewis suggested that they go ashore and pitch camp for the night. His friends agreed, and after making sure that the Indians were willing, he gave the word and the boats were turned into a little cove, where they were tied to a stout tree.

“Plenty of room around here,” observed Bob, as he got out and stretched his legs. “No trees within a radius of several score feet. Ought to be fairly good protection against night marauders.”

The tents and poles were untied, and after locating a suitable site the stakes were driven to the ground, the poles hoisted, and the hammocks hung.

Then a bountiful supper was prepared, and the party ate hungrily. Bob and Joe especially partook of large quantities, for their appetites were those of youth.

After the meal the explorers sat in a group, chatting merrily. Even the Indians took part in the conversation, answering many of the whites’ questions about the jungles they were passing through. Bob and Joe had trouble in understanding them, but their fathers translated whenever there was any difficulty.

A little later, darkness fell suddenly, and with it came the chill of night.

“Seems strange that the nights should be so cool when the days are so hot,” remarked Bob, going into the tent for a coat.

“Does at that,” said Mr. Lewis. “But it’s true of all tropical places.”

Soon the sky became dotted with countless numbers of twinkling stars. Soon afterwards the moon came out in full splendor, flooding the boundless expanse with enchanting light, and casting a reflection on the water beautiful beyond description.

The explorers were filled with awe as they sat staring into the vast jungle, thrilled that they were the only inhabitants on this wild shore.

For some time no one spoke. Then Mr. Holton rose and looked at his watch.

“Getting late,” he said, walking over to a box of supplies.

“Yes,” agreed Professor Bigelow. “I suggest that we turn in.”

The others agreed, and they attended to last-minute tasks.

“Ordinarily it is the Indians’ duty to stand guard,” said Mr. Lewis, glancing at the brawny crew, several of whom had fallen asleep. “But since they’ve worked hard and unflinchingly, and are nearly worn out, I suggest that we whites take turn about on this first night. We’ve had it comparatively easy all day. Then, too, it will increase their respect and liking for us. What do you think?”

“I’m all for it,” declared Professor Bigelow. “Now who is to have the first watch?”

It was decided to draw straws, the person getting the shortest to be the first guard.

By chance the short piece fell to Bob, and he took his place just outside the tents, sitting on one of the boxes, a rifle in ready grasp. The others retired to their hammocks.

For over a half-hour Bob stared quietly into space, glancing occasionally at the sparkling river. Then he decided to change his position.

But at that moment there came a crashing sound on the far side of a group of palm trees.

The youth was on his feet at the instant, wondering what the noise meant. Then he decided to find out.

“It’s only a short distance from camp,” he thought. “There’s no harm in going over there.”

Grasping his rifle, he stole quietly in the direction of the strange commotion.

It did not take him long to reach the patch of trees. Then he wormed his way through the tall grass for a distance of perhaps twenty feet.

The next instant he shrank back, for the sight that met his eyes was fearful and repulsive.

CHAPTER XIII

The Death Struggle

BESIDE a patch of bushes was a large wildcat, greedily devouring the remains of a small deer. Most of the deer’s body has been torn to pieces, so that only the head remained intact. There was a terrible stare from the wide eyes that caused Bob to shudder in disgust.

The tiger-cat was evidently very hungry, for it would scarcely bite out one section when it would tear into another, crunching horribly. Occasionally it would shift its position and sample various parts of the body. It finally crouched at the stomach, and in no time stripped the flesh from the bone.

The sight was not wholly to Bob’s liking, but he could not tear himself away. After all, the occasion was not one so terrible. All wild creatures must eat, and this is the only way they know.

Bob lifted his eyes from the feast to the great cat, and for the first time saw how beautifully marked it was. Why had he not noticed that before? Probably because he was much more impressed by the meal. The wildcat’s fur was of a light brown, spotted and barred with black and darker brown. Its abdomen was pure white, and seemed spotlessly clean. It looked about four feet long, exclusive of the tail.

“Doesn’t look very ferocious,” Bob thought, but he knew what would probably happen if the creature were to discover him in its domain.

For several minutes the feast continued, the animal’s hunger seeming to increase rather than lessen.

Suddenly there came a rustling sound from behind a low shrub.

Instantly the cat was on its feet, tail erect, eyes staring.

The rustling sound continued, and a moment later another cat of the same type leaped out into the clearing, took in its surroundings carefully, and then made for the body of the deer.

But it did not get far. A moment later the first tiger-cat crouched itself and sprang at the invader’s throat. Then a terrific combat took place, the memory of which was to remain with Bob for many years to come.

The creatures thrashed constantly about, each trying to inflict a death wound. They growled horribly, and occasionally one would cry out in pain. Sometimes they reared up on hind legs, biting and tearing fearfully. Then again they would be on top of each other, stamping and tearing to the height of their ability. For nearly five minutes the fight continued, and by now it was evident that the invader was getting the worst of it. Instead of being on the offensive it slunk back, trying in vain to ward off the assaults of its enemy. Suddenly it fell back, as a vital part was pierced. The first tiger-cat had won.

A few more minutes were spent in awaiting any further movements from the defeated, but as none came the victor resumed its feast.

“All over,” Bob muttered to himself. “A swell fight, too. I wouldn’t have missed it for anything. But say! This fellow would be a fine specimen for Dad and Mr. Lewis. I wonder if I can plug him. Don’t think the dead one will be of much use to them, it’s so badly mauled.”

The moon was still shining down brightly, and it was nearly as light as day. This was both an advantage and a disadvantage. True, it would be much easier to get a good aim at the animal, but the light would make Bob much more easily seen. Still he resolved to chance it.

Gripping his rifle firmly, he parted the bushes and rose to his feet. But the slight commotion caused the tiger-cat to turn about, and rage came into its eyes as they lighted on the youth. What was this new type of creature that had come to interrupt the feast?

Bob raised his rifle to his shoulder and awaited a chance to fire an effective shot. But none came. The great cat crouched to spring.

“I’ve got to get him,” said Bob, gritting his teeth.

Then, as the animal launched itself into the air, the youth took rapid but careful aim and fired.

The bullet sped true, entering the open mouth.

The tiger-cat fell at the boy’s feet, twitched about for a moment, and then lay still.

“Hurrah!” Bob cried, exulted beyond words. “I got him. And what a fine specimen.”

The rifle shot had aroused the rest of the expedition, and they came running out, wondering what was meant.

“What’s up?” demanded Mr. Holton, as he first caught sight of his son.

“Plenty,” Bob replied and led them to the bodies of the wildcats.

Everyone cried out in surprise and amazement at sight of the beasts.

“Ocelots,” pronounced Mr. Lewis. “I didn’t know that they were this common. How did you happen to come across them?”

Bob was obliged to relate the entire experience. He told of how he had come across one of the creatures at the body of the deer, of the thrilling combat that took place when the other ocelot arrived, and of shooting the survivor. The party listened with breathless interest, and even the Indians demanded a translation.

“An unusual happening,” said Professor Bigelow, looking at Bob in admiration and wishing that he had been present.

“Takes old Bob to do it,” smiled Joe. “And that required some nerve, too. The first wild animal he’s ever met.”

“It’s a case where the first is one of the most savage,” remarked Mr. Lewis, directing a glance at the creature’s sharp canine teeth. “The ocelot is next only to the jaguar in ferocity and daring.”

“Not much left of the deer he was feasting on,” observed Joe. “I suppose he would have left little more than the skeleton if Bob hadn’t so rudely interrupted him.”

Mr. Holton and Mr. Lewis procured knives and began the task of skinning the creatures. It was believed that both could be used, as the one that had been previously killed was not as badly mauled as Bob had thought.

In a short time the skinning was completed, and they again retired for the night, Bob remaining throughout the remainder of his watch. Nothing more happened that night, however, and they awoke the next morning to witness a beautiful sunrise. Breakfast was soon over, and then began the task of breaking camp.

“Let’s hurry,” urged Professor Bigelow. “We want to cover twenty miles today, if possible.”

“And we will if rapids don’t bar our way,” said Mr. Lewis.

Soon the belongings were packed in the boats, and they started on up the river. Meanwhile Bob and Joe were taking motion pictures quite often and were always on the lookout for new sights. Many times did they regret that they had been unable to film Bob’s experience of the night before.

The men kept their time occupied in writing notes and collecting specimens, which were growing in number hourly. Already there was an abundance of game. Monkeys quite often were crowded in the trees, birds of brilliant plumage were more numerous, various small animals darted out, and once Joe caught a glimpse of a wild pig running through the underbrush.

“When are we going ashore?” asked Bob. “Looks like here is a good chance to get some specimens.”

“It undoubtedly is,” Mr. Holton returned. “And we would try our luck now if Professor Bigelow were not anxious to find a strange tribe of Indians that’s reputed to be somewhere in this region. When we locate it we can stop and stay at one spot as long as the professor chooses, for game will probably be abundant, and we will have the chance to get scores of specimens.”

That day they made nearly twenty-five miles, and all were delighted that no rapids loomed up to hinder them.

“There’s nothing that puts you at more inconvenience than rapids,” said Professor Bigelow, as they sought out a place to camp for the night.

They found the spot they wanted beside a rocky knoll, not far from the river. There was a small open space a short distance away, and to this the party made. Again preparations were made for the night, and then the evening meal was prepared.

“Let’s turn in early,” suggested Mr. Holton, after they had finished eating. “The three Indians in the back boat complained that one of the clamps for an oar is loose, and it may take quite a while to repair it. For that reason we must be up early in the morning.”

The clamp, they discovered later, had been split through, making it necessary to carve out a new one. To do this was not easy, for suitable wood had to be cut and measurements taken. All told, there was a delay of over three hours.

“Now let’s go,” urged Professor Bigelow, his patience almost exhausted.

Day after day the miles were laid behind them in both a pleasant and disagreeable manner. In times when treacherous rapids offered a hindrance, they struggled unflinchingly, often knee deep in the water or mud. But there were chances for relaxation, when there was nothing to do but take it easy in the high seats of the boats. Bob and Joe could not fully realize that they were not in a dream but that this was the real thing – a wild, untamed land in the very heart of vast Amazonia.

“It’s great, Joe, old boy,” said Bob, when over a week had passed. “I’ve often visualized this expedition, but my expectations are far surpassed.”

One morning when they were paddling swiftly along, Professor Bigelow uttered a cry of delight and pointed to the bank.

“Indians!” he cried excitedly. “At last we’ve found a band of Indians!”

CHAPTER XIV

The Deserted Village

PROFESSOR Bigelow was right. On the shore not far away were a dozen or more native huts, grouped in a cluster about one that was larger and more carefully built. All about on the ground were various objects of daily life, such as wooden machetes, pots and kettles of clay, pieces of wood, and hides and skins of animals. But, strain their eyes as they did, the explorers could see no Indians.

The explorers were uncertain as to whether it would be safe to go ashore, but finally Professor Bigelow resolved to take the chance. He was as excited as a boy, and seemed not able to wait until the boats could be turned to the river bank.

The crew, however, were a bit dubious about the venture into an unknown village. They had heard stories of how explorers had been massacred by savage Indians, and as they had never been far as this upstream, they were at a loss to know how the strange tribe would treat them.

Still if the strange scientist was bound to hazard it they would go, although they would be ready for instant flight if necessary.

The boats were brought up alongside the bank and made secure to small trees. Then the explorers climbed out and looked about.

“An ideal site for a village,” said Joe, glancing about.

“Trust the natives to pick out the best spots,” said Bob.

Slowly and cautiously they walked toward the village, gripping their rifles tightly. When within a short distance from the foremost hut they stopped, and the professor, who had studied the languages spoken in this region, called out loudly in the native tongue – or rather what he thought to be the native tongue.

There was no answer, and the explorers proceeded on into the habitation.

“No signs of life anywhere,” said Professor Bigelow.

“Perhaps another tribe invaded and killed the inhabitants,” suggested Mr. Lewis, glancing about.

“No,” disagreed the professor. “There is evidence that the place has been recently inhabited. For instance, look at those ashes over there,” pointing to a place where a fire had been built. “They are not very old. I know the signs. We can look for the tribe at almost any time now.”

“Seems strange that the women and children went away too,” said Mr. Holton, almost unbelievingly.

“They often do it,” answered the professor. “The women, you see, do almost as much as the men. In many cases they do much more. They many times go along on excursions into the forest to carry the weapons and the trophies of the hunt. And as this is a rather small settlement, we can take that for granted.”

“When do you think they’ll return?” asked Bob.

“That is hard to say,” was the reply. “It is all according to how long they have been out. They may be back in a few hours, or it may be a week. But,” he added, “I am all for waiting. The chances are we’ll be all right.”

They explored the huts and found them to be very substantially built. There were few pieces of furniture in them, but the largest hut, which was undoubtedly the chief’s, contained several articles of interest to the visitors. There were brightly decorated pots and kettles, carved sticks, jaguar hides, spears and clubs, bows and arrows and blowguns.

“Quite an elaborate display of implements,” remarked Joe, examining a blowgun with interest. This weapon was about ten feet long, round and tapering, and covered with a glossy substance resembling glue. At each end it was bound with heavy cord made from vines. A quiver of arrows was attached to it, and, with utmost care lest they be poisoned, he took one out. It was about three feet long and sharp as a needle.

There were many other objects of domestic use lying and hanging about, and they were examined especially by Professor Bigelow, who had found himself in an anthropologist’s paradise. Baskets, closely woven from a strange type of straw, were filled with farina; bone tubes for snuffing were strewn about, and many kinds of ornaments hung on wooden pegs.

Bob’s attention was attracted to a kind of necklace, which was strung with the teeth of some wild animal – unless, but this was hardly probable, they were human teeth.

“Not human,” smiled Mr. Holton. “Can’t you tell a monkey’s molars when you see them?”

“Sorry, but I’m not as much of a naturalist and zoölogist as you are,” laughed Bob.

Meanwhile Joe was cranking the movie camera, filming the entire village. As a matter of fact he had been engaged in doing this since they first sighted the village.

“These ought to be interesting scenes,” he confided to Bob, as the two walked toward the river bank.

“They will be,” was the reply. “Tend to break the monotony of the constant river-traveling.”

At the shore they found several native canoes tethered to trees. They were mere dugouts, but they looked staunch and strong enough to stem almost any current.

The youths spent several more minutes at the bank; then they made their way back to the others.

“What’d you find?” asked Mr. Lewis.

“Only native canoes,” Bob answered. “Only – ”

He stopped and listened. What was that he had heard?

Again it came to his ears, this time louder and nearer.

“Sounds like someone’s shouting,” said Joe. “Sounds like – ”

“Indians!” cried Professor Bigelow. “The Indians are returning!”

CHAPTER XV

Danger at Hand

“QUICK! Let’s get to the boats at once!” cried Mr. Holton. “It won’t do for them to find us here in the village.”

The explorers hastened to the river bank with all the speed they could put into their legs. Not until they were safe in the boats did they draw a breath. Then they cast glances about the shore.

The shouting grew louder, and the next moment twenty-five or thirty semi-naked Indians burst into the clearing and made for the huts. But one that was evidently the chief called them back and pointed to the river, where the explorers’ canoes were moored.

“Now’s the time to act,” muttered Professor Bigelow, getting out of the boat.

He strode up to within fifty feet of the Indians, throwing his hands apart in a gesture of friendliness. Then he called out something that the other whites did not understand.

Immediately there was a turmoil of excited chattering, in which the chief took the biggest part. Then the latter called back to the professor, who listened eagerly. In the end there was a smile on his face.

“It’s all right,” he said to the explorers, beckoning them to come ashore.

“Sure there’s no danger?” asked Mr. Lewis.

“It will be safe. The chief welcomed us into the village.”

Mr. Holton was the first one out of the boat, followed by Joe, Mr. Lewis, and Bob. The crew trailed.

They did not think it wise to bring their rifles, for the Indians might suspect them. But each had a revolver in his holster, and it was Mr. Lewis who warned them to be on the lookout for any treachery.

Professor Bigelow waited for them to come nearer. Then he led the way into the village.