Lost in the Wilds of Brazil

“I have a plan,” stated Joe, several minutes later. “If anything should happen that we are discovered by savages, it might be best to act extremely exhausted, as if we couldn’t stand up a minute longer. We could even fall in our tracks before they quite get sight of us. The chances are they would sympathize with us and take us into their village.”

“Then what?”

“We could gain their friendship and have them lead us to the river.”

“Fine!” cried Bob Holton, his hope renewed. “Takes you to think of some plan to get us out of danger. Most likely we could carry it out, for these savages are only grown children when it comes to catching on to anything unusual. But we’d have to be very careful and keep a close watch for any treachery.”

Along toward noon the youths began to look for game. They were by now furiously hungry and felt as if they could devour almost any creature that would fall at the report of their rifle.

They did not have to wait long before a large duck-like bird flew over and perched on a tree bough, not twenty feet away. Joe handed his rifle to his chum.

“Take a shot at it,” urged Joe. “We may not see another chance as good.”

Bob aimed carefully and fired just as the bird prepared to take flight. A moment later feathers flew and the creature fluttered to the ground.

“Hurrah!” cried Joe. “Now we eat!”

A fire was built of dead wood in the vicinity, and the young hunters’ quarry was placed over the flames to bake. Before long a delicious odor filled the clearing, and the youths prepared a feast fit for a king.

“Roast duck! Think of that!” cried Joe.

The bird tasted good, despite the fact that it was rather tough. Bob and Joe ate heartily, until only a small portion was left. Then they stretched themselves on the soft grass for a short rest.

“I feel like getting some sleep,” remarked Joe. “But of course – ”

He stopped suddenly and strained his ears to listen.

Bob looked inquiringly but remained quiet.

A moment later there came a long, weird chant that cut through the thin jungle air with remarkable clearness. It was repeated several times, always nearer. Never before had the youths heard anything like it, and they were intensely bewildered.

Bob looked inquiringly at his friend, but the latter could give no explanation.

“Beyond me,” he muttered.

Again the cry came, and then the boys jumped to their feet in horror.

“Savages!” cried Bob excitedly. “Indians – wild Indians. They’re coming this way!”

CHAPTER XXIV

The Hideous Village

“OH!” groaned Bob hopelessly. “Guess it’s all up with us.”

“No, it isn’t,” the other youth retorted. “You remember what we said to do in such an emergency, don’t you? Act extremely exhausted, as if we couldn’t move another foot. Lie on the ground – do anything to make them feel sorry for us. They will if the thing is carried out right.”

The cries were gradually getting louder, indicating that the Indians were coming closer. Occasionally some savage would chant louder than the others, and then there would be a grand chorus of shouts and yells.

“They’re getting nearer,” muttered Joe. “Come on, let’s lie on the ground. Act as if you’re half dead.”

The youths threw themselves on the soft grass and awaited developments.

They had not long to wait.

A figure burst into view from around a bend in the trail. Another, followed by fully twenty other savages, their gruesome faces showing surprise and bewilderment at sight of the youths.

Who were these persons – persons of a strange color? Were they enemies? Were they on the ground waiting for a chance to kill? What was that strange long thing that was beside them? What were they doing here? Had they been sent down from the sky to bring destruction to villages, or had they wandered from an unknown region in the remote beyond?

For fully ten minutes the savages were silent. Then they began chattering loudly and moved stealthily up to the boys, bows and arrows and blowguns in readiness.

Bob and Joe waited in terrible suspense, half expecting to be pierced by deadly weapons. The youths longed to move about, if only for a moment. Once Joe felt an itching along his back, and the desire to scratch was almost uncontrollable, but he finally managed to remain quiet.

An Indian that was evidently the chief felt of the boys’ bodies and limbs carefully, while his men looked on, ready to send an arrow at once if necessary. At last, after feeling the beating of the boys’ hearts, the native regained his feet and conversed with the others.

Then Bob and Joe were picked up by strong arms and carried through the jungle.

Where would they be taken? What was to be their fate? Could they gain the friendship of the savages? These questions were in the youths’ minds as they were being carried along the trail.

“Maybe they’re going to put us in boiling water,” thought Joe, and he shuddered in spite of himself. “But then,” he finally reasoned, “they probably won’t do that. After all, very few tribes are cannibalistic.”

How long the tramp continued, Bob and Joe did not know, but at last, after what seemed several hours, they came to a spot where the path broadened into twice the original width, and a few minutes later they parted the bushes and came to a large native village, where at least sixty wild Indians were walking about. At sight of the warriors and their burdens the Indians rushed forward and crowded around, their eagerness to get a view of the strange people resembling that of small children at a circus.

There was a turmoil of excited chattering, in which everyone took part. Questions flew thick and fast, and it was all the warriors could do to answer them.

Bob and Joe were placed in one of the native huts and for a short time left to themselves. There was a crude door at the entrance, and this was shut to keep out the curious.

Then for the first time they opened their eyes and looked about.

“We’re in a fairly large hut,” whispered Bob, glancing about. “And there are several pieces of furniture to keep us company. Over there is a kind of a table, laden down with pots and – Hurrah! There’s our rifle. What do you know about that!”

“They’re certainly generous,” admitted Joe. “It’s a wonder they didn’t take it and start pulling the trigger, which would no doubt have resulted in five or ten of them getting their brains blown out.”

“But now,” mused Bob, “what do you think? What’ll they do with us?”

“I don’t happen to know,” was the response. “But we’ll – ”

He ceased abruptly, as he noticed that the door was opening. The youths took a sitting position and tried to act as innocent as they could.

A second later the chief entered, followed by ten others. They stopped short when they noticed that the boys were sitting up, and stared in wonder.

Bob and Joe threw their hands apart in a gesture of helplessness and smiled gratefully. Bob beckoned the men to come in the hut.

They stood undecidedly at first, but finally, convinced that these strangers meant no harm, moved on in the dwelling.

Then the boys did all they could to convey the idea that they were thankful to the Indians for saving them from death from exhaustion, and in the end it looked as if they had succeeded. Not until the big chief smiled, however, did they feel secure, for there were grim looks on the faces of all the savages. But when the chief showed his teeth in friendship, the youths felt that the battle was won. With the head native on their side things looked a great deal brighter.

“Now for something to eat,” said Bob to his chum. “I’m not particular what it is, just so it’s nourishing.”

He put his hands to his mouth, and began working his jaws as if chewing. Then he imitated drinking. The chief understood, and he gave directions to one of his men, who dashed off to another part of the village.

Meanwhile the others stood gazing at the youths, who in their sun-tanned condition were scarcely less dark than the Indians themselves.

In a short time the Indian returned with plates and pots of food, which he placed on the ground beside them.

“Do you suppose the stuff’s all right?” asked Joe, hesitating to begin eating.

“Don’t know why it wouldn’t be,” Bob returned. “Why should they poison us? At present we’re too much of a curiosity to kill. They’ll at least wait for the novelty to wear off.”

The food tasted good despite the fact that the boys were ignorant as to what it was. They ate heartily, and in a very short time their strength was restored.

Then by signs they asked permission to walk around the village. At first the natives hesitated, but at last the chief nodded in approval, and the youths got to their feet.

“If we could just speak some of their language,” said Bob, as they went out of the thatched house.

“Be easy then,” affirmed Joe. “But maybe we can get them to take us to the river, and then Professor Bigelow can talk with them.”

The chief led the way around the settlement, pointing with pride to many articles that were the results of the Indians’ handiwork. Many objects were totally new to the boys, and they viewed them with interest. But when they came to one large hut they saw something that turned their blood cold with horror.

Hanging thickly on the walls were scores of dried human heads, their features perfectly preserved. In fact the ghastly trophies were so thick that there were no cracks between them.

Bob and Joe glanced around the room in terrible awe. Suddenly, as they turned about, their eyes fell on something that again caused them to be horror-stricken, this time more than before.

Near the corner were two heads that were – white!

“Explorers,” breathed Bob, rather nervously. “Or were they missionaries? At any rate these heads were those of white men – and they’ve been killed for their heads!”

The youths felt fairly sick, and once Joe reeled as if to fall. But he got a grip on himself and resolved to take matters as they were. At present they were in no danger. The terrible and yet genial chief seemed to be their friend. But how soon his lust to kill would come to the surface they did not know.

They spent no more time at the horrible trophy house, for it contained such things as one might see in a nightmare. Bob and Joe made up their minds to seek out something more pleasant.

They found it in a large board that had lines crossing and crisscrossing from one side to the other. The chief got out a box and took out several wooden pegs, which he placed in the spaces on the board. He moved them back and forth and laughed.

“Must be some kind of a game,” concluded Bob, thoroughly interested.

The boys spent several hours in touring the village, and although they were constantly enfolded by the crowd of curious savages, they enjoyed the experience. It was unique and different, but they felt some repulsion for the various activities carried on by these heathen people.

“All right for a visit,” mused Joe, “but I don’t think I’d care to live here.”

“I’d feel a whole lot safer back in the boats with our dads and the professor,” said Bob, as he thought of the hideous dried human heads. “Still,” he went on, “I suppose we should do all we can to help Professor Bigelow. Here is a chance for him to get plenty of information of the kind that he wants most.”

Late that afternoon Bob and Joe took the rifle and, motioning for the chief to follow, started into the jungle just back of the village. They intended to give the native a real surprise and thrill, such as he had never before had.

At last he went with them, probably wondering what the strange whites had in mind, but willing to find out.

“Maybe we can show him how to kill a jaguar,” said Joe, keeping a sharp watch over the forest.

No game was in the immediate vicinity of the village, owing to the frequent hunting trips made by the savages. But when they had gone several miles there came fresh signs that wild creatures were close by.

Suddenly they caught sight of a large tapir rooting in the tall grass.

Bob took the rifle and, motioning to the Indian, he pointed to the gun and then to the animal.

A moment later he pulled the trigger.

At the report of the weapon the big Indian jumped in fright and was on the verge of running back to the village, when Bob pointed again to the gun and then to the tapir, which was now dead. Then for the first time the chief caught the meaning, and he looked at the boys with something like worship in his eyes.

What strange magic was this? A long thing that spouted fire had killed a tapir instantly, without a struggle. These people must be gods.

From that moment on, the chief’s friendship for the youths increased to devotion, which at times promised to be embarrassing. But Bob and Joe did not care. This would be all the better opportunity for Professor Bigelow to secure information on the savages’ daily life and customs.

The three hunters trudged on farther, hoping to stir up more game. The boys wished particularly to get a shot at a jaguar, so that the power of the gun could be demonstrated still further.

“The old boy’d just about throw a fit if he saw the rifle pot off the king of Brazilian wild beasts,” smiled Joe.

At last they burst through a thick mass of vegetation and found themselves on the bank of a small stream.

At once Bob and Joe were wild with delight, for this stream evidently was a tributary of the river. And the river was what they wanted to find above all else.

“Hurrah!” cried Joe, overwhelmed with delight. “We’ve as good as found our party already!”

CHAPTER XXV

Reunion at Last

THE chief was puzzled by the actions of Bob and Joe, and the boys realized it, but there was no use trying to explain. It would take more than signs to convey the idea that more whites were near the river.

“Suppose we try to get him to go with us,” suggested Joe. “Think he will?”

“Hard to say. We’ll find out.”

The youths beckoned the Indian to come with them, and they were surprised to find that he did so without hesitation.

“He probably intends to do anything we ask from now on,” said Bob. “Our ability to kill wild beasts with fire was too much for him. Maybe he thinks he’ll die like the tapir if he refuses.”

There was a narrow trail along the bank of the stream, and Bob led the way down it, followed by Joe and the chief. The boys intended to make as much time as possible, for they wished to reach the river as soon as they could. How far away it was, they did not know. Perhaps a large number of miles.

“If we can just keep the chief with us everything will turn out fine,” said Bob.

All the rest of that day they trudged on, keeping their rifle ready for any savage jungle beast that might show itself. The Indian kept with them tirelessly, and many times he proved of valuable assistance in pointing out the easiest course through the underbrush.

Along toward evening they stopped at a large open space that was devoid of vegetation.

“Better stay here for the night, hadn’t we?” asked Joe.

“Yes,” Bob replied. “You stay here and build a fire while the chief and I go in search of game. Don’t think you’ll be in any danger. We’ll be back in a short time.”

Bob and the Indian started out down the bank of the stream, confident that they would see game sooner or later.

They had not far to go.

At a sharp bend in the trail a small animal, the name of which Bob did not know, darted out and made for the water.

But it did not get there.

Bang! came the report of the rifle, and the bullet sped straight. The creature fell dead at once.

This time the Indian did not show signs of fear, for he knew what was to come. Instead he looked at Bob with awe and wonder in his eyes.

Back at the clearing they found that Joe had started a large fire. The warmth of it felt good as the chill of the fast-approaching night fell.

“You did have some luck, didn’t you?” observed Joe. “Wonder if it’ll be good eating.”

“Hope so.”

The animal was skinned with Bob’s hunting knife and placed over the fire to bake. Then the three sat together to witness the falling of night. As usual it came suddenly, and they huddled closer to the fire.

In time the animal was thoroughly baked, and then they began the meal.

Suddenly the chief got up and dashed through the jungle out of sight, leaving the youths to wonder at this sudden departure.

“Think he’s gone?” asked Joe, trying to catch sight of the Indian through the dense vegetation.

“Doesn’t seem possible that he’d desert us as abruptly as this,” replied Bob. “He seemed to be all our friend.”

The youths waited silently, almost convinced that the man had left for good.

But a moment later he emerged from the jungle as suddenly as he had disappeared. In his arms were several varieties of what was evidently wild fruit.

He ran toward the boys with a smile as he glanced first at the roasted animal and then at the fruit he was carrying. When he reached the fire he deposited the stuff near, and then sat down to eat.

“A welcome addition to the meal,” said Bob joyfully. “Takes these savages to know what all the vast forest contains that’s nourishing.”

Nevertheless the young men were careful to see that the Indian ate first before they sampled any of the wild fruit.

“Take no chances,” remarked Joe. “Ten to one he means no harm, but it’s best to be on the safe side.”

The chief ate of everything, however, and then the boys followed suit. They found that all of the fruit was delicious, with flavors that they had never before tasted.

There were large, round melons, like a cross between a watermelon and a cantaloup. There were bulbs resembling potatoes, bunches of small bright-colored berries, and wild bananas.

It was a meal unlike any that the boys had ever eaten. They felt like savages themselves, and were delighted that soon they would come to the river.

“Won’t it be wonderful to see our party again?” asked Joe, deeply touched.

“Sure will,” Bob replied. “But we don’t want to be too sure that everything will turn out all right. Something else may turn up that’s not expected.”

After the feast the three sat in silence, watching the moon float silently and majestically over the great jungle.

At last Joe turned to put more fuel on the fire.

“Hadn’t some of us better turn in?” he asked. “We’ve had a tough time of it today and need rest.”

Bob agreed, and they set about arranging watches.

“I’ll be the first guard,” announced Joe. “You and the chief curl up by the fire and get some sleep. I’ll call you in a few hours. We’d better not disturb the Indian tonight.”

Thus it was arranged, and Joe sat idly beside the fire, his rifle near by.

His watch passed without incident, and at last he tapped Bob on the back. They changed positions, Joe retiring and Bob keeping a lookout for intruders.

Despite the fact that Bob had a strange feeling that something would happen, the night passed peacefully, although the youth was confident that wild animals were just beyond the zone of firelight.

In the morning Joe and the Indian were up early, preparing to hike on. The former still did not know where the boys were going or what their purpose was, but he showed no signs of hesitation.

“We want to see the river today,” remarked Bob, as they again took up the trail.

“I think we will,” the other youth returned. “We made good time yesterday, and if the luck continues, we will today.”

All morning they tramped without a stop. They were tired and exhausted, but did not wish to lose time until necessary.

About noon they came to another clearing, and Bob moved that they stop for the noon meal.

The chief and Joe went into the jungle a short distance away to gather wild fruit, which alone was to serve as their meal.

In a short time they returned with a bountiful supply, and then the feast began.

“Several new additions to our menu today,” remarked Bob, as he noticed that there were cocoanuts, roots like carrots, and a plant resembling cane.

The three ate heartily of everything, and then they started on.

“Stream’s getting wider,” observed Bob, several hours later.

“Yes,” returned Joe. “The river shouldn’t be very far away.”

He had scarcely uttered the words when they rounded a sharp curve and found themselves at the junction with the river.

For a moment the youths could hardly believe their eyes. Here at last was the thing they had been searching for all these days – the thing that would lead them to their fathers and the others of the party. Never had anything looked so good to them.

“At last!” breathed Joe, too delighted for words. “Now let’s hurry on up to the boats.”

“How do you know we should go up?” demanded Bob. “They could be easily farther downstream as well.”

“I know it,” was the response. “But it seems to me that I remember passing this stream several hours before we stopped.”

“All right. Let’s go.”

They had to search quite a while before a path was found that followed the river.

“If we keep up this good time, we’ll surely see the boats today – if they’re there to see,” said Bob, as he led the way up the trail.

Notwithstanding this, they hiked on constantly for the remainder of the afternoon without coming to the explorers’ boats.

“Perhaps if we fire rifle shots it will attract their attention,” said Joe, and he sent out three shots, repeating at intervals.

“What’s that?” said Joe, raising a hand for silence.

“Thought I heard an answering report,” he said. “But maybe – Yes, there it is again. And there.”

Two shots had sounded from afar, and at once the boys responded with Joe’s rifle.

“Now let’s move on upstream,” said Bob. “If we can meet them halfway it will be all the better.”

The youths again followed the trail, the Indian chief close behind them. They realized that the answering reports had come from afar and that it would take no little hiking to get to them.

About every five minutes Joe raised the rifle and fired, each time receiving an answering shot.

Finally, after an hour’s constant traveling, they heard a crashing sound in the jungle not far ahead, and they were on the alert at once.

A moment later Mr. Lewis and Mr. Holton emerged and looked about.

Their eyes fell on Bob and Joe, and the men rushed forward in intense relief and thankfulness.

“Boys!” cried Mr. Holton, almost unable to believe his own eyes.

The next instant they were stammering out words of thanksgiving at finding their sons alive and apparently none the worse for their experience.

“We didn’t see how you could possibly escape tragedy,” said Mr. Lewis gravely. “Getting lost in the vast Amazon jungle is a serious thing, especially when you have no food of any kind with you.”

“All the time we were in doubt as to how we’d come out,” said Bob. “Worst part of it was that we were afraid to hike far for fear of getting farther away from the river, but we knew we couldn’t get any place sitting down.”

“Tell us all about it,” urged Mr. Holton, and the youths related their experience from start to finish. They told of shooting the jaguar, of the necessary abandoning of Bob’s rifle, and of the flight that followed. And at last of coming across the strange tribe of Indians that was probably the one Professor Bigelow had been searching for.

“A fearful experience,” breathed Mr. Lewis, when the youths had finished. “Not many could have had such good luck. If you hadn’t come across the Indians, your fate would probably have been sealed by now.”

“But wait,” hesitated Joe, with a sudden recollection. “Here’s the chief of the tribe we got in with. We finally got him to come with us.”

He glanced around, but the Indian was nowhere in sight.

“Strange,” mused Bob. “He was here a few minutes ago. Could he have left?”

He called loudly, but it was unnecessary. The man had only stepped behind a bush, undecided as to whether to come in sight of the other whites, and at once left his place of concealment and walked out warily.

Bob and Joe beckoned for him to move up to them. At first he was uncertain, but finally concluded that it would be safe to venture nearer.

The boys introduced him as best they could by signs, and although it was rather awkward, they felt that much of his uncertainty vanished before the cordial attitude of Mr. Lewis and Mr. Holton.