IN THE 'DEMONS' WOOD.'
The following day, Monella led the two friends to the road he had begun
to cut into Roraima Forest; but first he showed them two llamas that
were kept in a rough corral near his dwelling.
"I brought them all the way from the other side of the continent," he
said. "You know that there they are the only beasts of burden, and in
this country there are none. They will be useful to us later."
As to the so-called 'road,' it was really but a pathway; and, in
places, almost a kind of tunnel. The great trees of this primæval
forest were so high and dense that but little daylight penetrated to
the ground beneath; and on all sides the undergrowth was so thick and
tangled that almost every foot had to be cut out with the axe. Here and
there one could see for a few yards between the giant trunks, and at
these spots the path had been made wider. One curious thing Jack noted:
the path did not start from that part of the wood opposite to 'Monella
Lodge'; nor even from the margin of the wood itself.
Asked why this was, Monella thus made answer: "If in our absence others
should come here, they might hunt up and down for the path a long time
before they hit upon it--and very likely never find it. On this stony
ground the tracks we leave are very slight and difficult to trace."
"But," said Jack, "your Indians know the way."
Monella smiled.
"Not one of them would ever show another man the way," he replied, "let
him offer what he might."
"But why all these precautions?"
"Later you will understand."
But, when Jack came to look round, his heart sank within him.
"I should not care to have a few miles of railway to cut through wood
like this," he said. "It's the worst I ever saw. I do not wonder
you have found it more than you could manage--only yourself and
these Indians--and it's a wonder you ever got them to join at all,
considering all the circumstances."
"Yes; that's where it is," Monella answered. "Many men would have
despaired, I think. We have had trouble, too. Two Indians met with
accidents and were badly hurt; though now they are recovering. Then,
some of the small streams that issue from the mountain became suddenly
swollen once or twice, and washed away the rough bridges we had made
across them; and we have met with many unexpected obstacles, such as
great masses of rock, or a fallen tree, some giant of the forest that
was so big it was easier to go round it than to cut through it."
That evening, Monella explained his project, and showed the young men
the plans and diagrams Dr. Lorien had spoken of, and then went on to
say,
"If you decide to join me, you ought to know something of the language
in which these old documents are written. I both read and write it, and
I speak it too. You will find it interesting to decipher them, and an
occupation for the evenings."
Jack was not enthusiastic at this suggestion; but Leonard cordially
embraced it.
"To learn the language of an unknown nation that has passed away will
be curious and _very_ interesting," he declared, "and will, as you say,
help to pass the time. You may as well learn it too, Jack. You speak
the Indian--why not learn this? Then we can talk together in a tongue
that no one but ourselves and our friend here can understand."
"And where did these ancient people 'hang out'?" asked Jack
irreverently.
"Have you heard of the lake of Titicaca and the ancient ruins of
the great city of Tiahuanaco; a city on this continent believed by
archæologists to be at least as old as Thebes and the Pyramids?"
Monella asked.
"_I_ have," Leonard answered, "though I know very little about them.
But I believe I was in that country when very young, and had a curious
escape from death there."
Monella turned his gaze quickly upon the young man.
"Tell me about it. What do you remember?" he asked.
"Oh, I do not remember anything; I was too young. But I have been
_told_ how that my father went somewhere in that district on a
prospecting expedition, and, not liking to be separated from my mother,
took her with him, and my nurse, Carenna, and myself. Whilst there they
came across a small settlement of white people, as I understand, and
remained with them some time. There was amongst these people a child of
my own age, and so exactly like me, that my nurse grew almost as fond
of it as she was of me, and used to like to take the two out together.
One day, it seems, we both went to sleep on the grass, and she left us
for a few minutes to gather fruit. When she returned a poisonous snake
crawled hissing away, and she found the other poor little child had
been bitten and was dead.
"That's all I know about it. Who the people were, and where the place
was, I cannot say. I have always understood, however, that it was
somewhere in the direction of Lake Titicaca. But Carenna could tell you
more."
"And what about this ancient people of yours?" Templemore asked of
Monella, who still gazed thoughtfully and inquiringly at Leonard.
Templemore had heard of Elwood's early adventure many times before.
"High up on the eastern slopes of the great Andes is an extensive
plain, as large as the whole of British Guiana," the old man replied.
"It is twelve thousand feet above the level of the sea, and there, at
that great height, is also the largest lake of South America, Lake
Titicaca, over three thousand square miles in extent, on the shores of
which was once a mighty city called Tiahuanaco. It is now in ruins;
yet, even amongst its ruins, it boasts of some of the oldest and most
wonderful monuments in the world. Two thousand feet above this again,
are another large plain and another lake, little known to the outside
world, being, indeed, almost inaccessible. It was there my people
dwelt, and tradition asserts that they retired thither when driven
out of Tiahuanaco by some invasion of hordes from other parts of the
continent."
"Is it a very old language, do you suppose?" Jack asked.
"Undoubtedly one of the oldest in the world; and yet not difficult to
acquire by those who know the language of Matava and his tribe--as you
do. It has some affinity to it."
As regards the tongue spoken by the Indians, Leonard had learnt it from
Carenna in his childhood; and Templemore had picked up a good deal from
the same source, as well as on his hunting expeditions with Leonard and
Matava.
When it came to discussing terms, Monella declared that he had none to
make, except that on no consideration whatever should any other white
man be invited or allowed to join them. As to the rest, he simply
suggested that any wealth they might acquire by their enterprise should
be shared equally between them.
"Suppose one of us were to die," observed Jack. "How then? Might not
the survivors choose some one else to join them? Though," he added
thoughtfully, "if it were _you_, we should not be likely to go on."
"_I_ shall not die, my friend, until my task be finished," replied
Monella with conviction.
"You cannot say," was Jack's rejoinder.
"No, I do not say I _know_, yet I can say I _feel_ it. No man dieth
till he hath fulfilled the work in life allotted to him by God,"
Monella finished solemnly.
The others already knew him, by this time, as a man with deep-seated
religious convictions; though he made no parade of his beliefs. He
seemed to have a simple, steady faith in an overruling Providence, and
showed it, unostentatiously, in many ways, both in his actions, and in
the advice he gave, on occasion, to the young men.
In the result, the bargain--if it can be so termed--was concluded.
Elwood and Templemore formally enrolled themselves under Monella's
leadership, and henceforth performed the duties he assigned to them;
amongst other things assisting almost daily in the formation of the
path that was to take them through the forest. When not so engaged,
they would go out with some of the Indians on hunting or fishing
excursions in search of food.
Monella had with him, amongst other things, a beautifully finished
theodolite of wonderful accuracy and delicacy; with this he settled
the direction of the road from day to day. Often, obstacles were
encountered that made it impossible to go straight; these had to be
worked round and the proper direction picked up again by means of
Monella's calculations.
Another circumstance worthy of note and that caused the two young men
at first some surprise, was the fact that Monella had with him some
mirrors specially prepared and fixed in strong cases for carrying
about in rough travel, and intended for heliographic signalling. They
frequently took these out and practised with them by sending messages
to one another from the ridges of hills far apart. Monella tried also
to instruct Matava and some of the Indians in the work, but without
success. They were indeed afraid of the glasses, and looked upon it all
as some kind of magic.
"Wouldn't it be simpler to go up the bed of this stream that you
seem to have been following more or less all the time, even if it be
longer?" observed Jack one day.
Monella shook his head.
"No use, my friend. It divides into so many branches; and then again,
in case of a rise of its waters, we should have all our road submerged
at once."
On Sundays they always rested. This, it appeared, had been Monella's
custom all along.
In his conversations in the evenings and during their Sunday strolls,
he would instruct and amuse his hearers with his reminiscences and
adventures in all parts of the world, or with his intimate knowledge
of the wild life around them. From his account, he had undergone, at
times, terrible and extraordinary hardships and privations on the
plains and in the forests of India and Africa; of Australia; the
Steppes of Tartary; the Highlands of Thibet; the interior of China and
Japan; the wilds of Siberia; of Canada; the prairies of North America,
and the pampas, plains, and rugged mountains of South America--all,
as Dr. Lorien had said, seemed to be alike known to him. Nor was he
less familiar with the countries and cities of Europe; yet he spoke of
his travels and experiences in a simple manner that had in it nothing
of boastfulness or ostentation, but as though his sole object were to
amuse and entertain his two young friends.
As they penetrated farther into the forest, their work became harder
and the progress slower. This latter was unavoidable, since each day
they had to walk farther and farther to and fro. Moreover, the Indians,
who had displayed greater courage--so Monella had said--now that they
had two more white men with them, once more began to show signs of
nervous apprehension and fear.
This was doubtless due to the great difference in many ways--some
definite enough, others indefinable and vague--between this forest and
those generally to be found in the tropical regions of South America.
Not only were the trees still more gigantic--making it gloomier--and
the undergrowths more dense and tangled, but the birds and animals,
judging from their cries, were unfamiliar to them. Many of the sounds
usual to forest life in British Guiana were absent; the constant note
of the 'bell-bird' was not heard, nor was even the startling roar of
the howling monkeys. Instead were heard other sounds and noises of
an entirely novel and peculiar kind, unknown even to the Indians who
had been used to forest travelling all their lives; sounds that even
Monella either could not explain--or hesitated to. One of these was a
horrid combination of hiss and snort and whistle, loud and prolonged
like the stertorous breathings of some monstrous creature. Some of the
Indians declared that this was the sound traditionally said to proceed
from the great 'camoodi,' the monstrous serpent that is supposed to
guard the way to Roraima mountain; while others inclined to the
opinion that it was made by the equally dreaded 'didi,' the gigantic
'wild man of the woods,' that also had, as they averred, its special
haunts in this particular forest. At times, a startling, long-drawn
cry would echo through the wood, so human in its tones as sometimes
to cause them to rush in the direction it seemed to come from, in the
belief that it was a cry for help from one of the party who was in
danger. This strange, harrowing cry, the Indians called 'The cry of a
Lost Soul'[6]; and they were always seized with panic when it was heard.
[6] This strange cry is often heard in the depths of the forests
in this region, and has never been accounted for, the only
explanation given by the Indians being the one stated above,
viz., that it is 'the cry of a Lost Soul.' It is alluded to by
the American poet, Whittier, in the following lines:--
"In that black forest where, when day is done,
* * * * *
Darkly from sunset to the rising sun,
A cry as of the pained heart of the wood,
The long despairing moan of solitude
And darkness and the absence of all good,
Startles the traveller with a sound so drear,
So full of hopeless agony and fear,
His heart stands still, and listens with his ear.
--The guide, as if he heard a death-bell toll,
Crosses himself, and whispers, 'A Lost Soul!'"
There were other cries and sounds equally mysterious and perplexing;
and, so the Indians began to declare, strange sights too. Of these they
could give no clear account, but they maintained that, in the shadows
in the darker places, or just before nightfall, while returning from
their work, they now and then caught passing glimpses of vague shapes
that seemed to peer at them and then disappear within the gloomy
forest depths. And even Elwood and Templemore were conscious of the
occasional presence of these silent unfamiliar shapes, and sometimes
fired at them, though without result. These facts they made no attempt
to conceal from one another, though, in their intercourse with the
Indians, they put a bold face on matters, and affected to disbelieve
the stories told them.
Monella alone was--or appeared to be--entirely undisturbed by all these
things. If conscious of them, he gave no sign of it, but went about
whatever he had to do as though danger were to him an unknown quantity.
There was, however, one unpleasant fact that could not be ignored, and
that was the unusual number of 'bush-masters' of large size in the
wood. This is a poisonous snake, very gaudily coloured, whose bite is
certain death. It does not--like most serpents--try to get out of the
way of human beings, but, instead, rushes to attack them with great
swiftness and ferocity. It is the only _aggressive_ venomous snake of
the American continent. It usually attains a length of five or six
feet; but, in this forest, the explorers killed many of eight or nine
feet, and two--that came on to the attack together--were nearly eleven
feet long, with fangs as large as a parrot's claw. In consequence of
the frequency of the attacks of these reptiles, so much dreaded by the
Indians, and indeed by all travellers, one or two of a working party,
armed with shot guns, had to be told off to keep watch; rifles being of
no use for the purpose.
Templemore, as it happened, had had a bad fright when a child from an
adventure with a snake; and this--as is frequently the case--had left
in his mind, all the rest of his life, a great horror of serpents. He
found, therefore, the presence of these 'lords of the woods,' as their
Indian name implies, a source of ever-present abhorrence.
Besides the 'bush-masters,' there were the 'labarri'--also a large
venomous snake, but not aggressive like the other--and rattlesnakes.
There were also, no doubt, boa-constrictors, or 'camoodis,' of the
ordinary kind; but, thus far, only one had been seen, and that, though
large, was nothing out of the way as regards size for that country.
Nor were serpents their only visible enemies; there were others of a
kind new to the two young men. One day, while with the working party at
the farthest part of the track, they heard the whole forest suddenly
resound with a perfect babel of discordant noises. There were shrill
cries and squeals, hoarse roars and growls, then a kind of trumpeting.
The Indians retreated, throwing down their axes to pick up their
rifles. As they hastily retired, four large animals sprang into their
path, one after the other, with loud roars and growls. But Monella,
who was behind Elwood, stepped forward and rolled two over with his
repeating rifle, and Jack stopped another of the beasts with his. The
fourth, apparently not liking the way things were going, leaped into
the thicket and disappeared; though, judging from the sounds that came
from the direction it had taken, there were many more of its fellows
close at hand. Gradually their cries grew fainter, until they died away
in the distance.
Meanwhile, further shots had given the _coup de grâce_ to the three
that had been knocked over, and the victors went up to examine them.
They seemed to be a kind of panther or leopard of a light grey colour,
approaching white in places, with markings of a deeper colour.
Neither Templemore nor Elwood had ever previously seen any animal, or
the skin of one, at all like these. They were, moreover, of different
shape from either the jaguar or the tiger-cat; larger than the latter,
and more thick-set than the former.
"These must be the 'white jaguars' that the Indians say help to guard
Roraima," Jack observed, looking in perplexity at the strange creatures.
"Yes," said Matava, who had now come up, "and they are 'Warracaba
tigers.'"[7]
[7] A vivid account of an adventure with these formidable animals
will be found in Mr. Barrington Brown's 'Canoe and Camp Life
in British Guiana,' page 71. Very little is known about them,
but they are believed to have their haunts in the unexplored
mountain districts, from which they occasionally descend into
other parts. Mr. Brown states that the Indians fear them above
everything; and, while comparatively brave as regards jaguars and
tiger-cats of all kinds, give way to utter panic at the mere idea
that 'Warracaba tigers' are in their neighbourhood. It is said
that nothing stops or frightens them except a broad stream of
water--not even fire.
"What on earth are they?" asked Leonard.
"Warracaba tiger," Monella said, "is the name given to a species of
small 'tiger' (in America all such animals are called 'tigers') that
hunts in packs, and is reputed to be unusually ferocious. They have a
peculiar trumpeting cry, not unlike the sound made by the Warracaba
bird--the 'trumpet-bird'--hence their name."
"They look to me more like light-coloured pumas," Jack remarked.
"No; pumas are not marked like that, and do not make the sounds we
heard. Besides, you need never fear a puma, and should never shoot at
one, unless it is attacking your domestic animals."
Both Templemore and Elwood looked up in surprise.
"I always thought," the latter said, "that pumas were such bloodthirsty
animals."
"So they are, to other animals--even the jaguar they attack and kill.
But men they never touch, if let alone. I do not believe there is a
single authenticated instance of a puma's hurting any human being, man,
woman or child. In the Andes and Brazil--where I have lived long enough
to know--the Gauchos call the puma 'Amigo del cristiano'--'the friend
of man'--and they think it an evil thing to kill one."[8]
[8] A very interesting account of the South American puma will
be found in 'The Naturalist in La Plata,' by Mr. W. H. Hudson.
He states that the puma has a strange natural liking for, or
sympathy with, man; that, though ferocious and bloodthirsty in
the extreme as regards other animals, yet it never attacks man,
woman, or child, awake or asleep. He quotes many authorities, and
gives numerous instances, of a very remarkable character, from
the accounts of hunters and others whom he has himself seen and
questioned.
A few days after, they were attacked again by these furious creatures,
and this time did not come off so well, for two of the Indians were
badly mauled. But for Monella's cool bravery, indeed, matters would
have been much worse; and Templemore had a narrow escape. Then, a day
or two later, one of the Indians was stung by a scorpion; and Jack came
near being bitten by a rattlesnake--would have been but for Monella,
who, just in time, boldly seized the reptile by the tail, and, swinging
it two or three times round his head, dashed its brains out against a
piece of rock.
Indeed, upon all occasions where there was any kind of danger,
Monella's ready, quiet courage was always displayed in a manner that
won both the admiration of his white colleagues and the devotion of his
Indian followers. Moreover, as Dr. Lorien had stated, and as Leonard
had found by actual experience, he was skilled in medicine and surgery.
To wounds he applied the leaves of some plant, of which he had a store
with him in a dried state, the curative effects of which were reputed
among the Indians to be almost marvellous.
But even these incidents were surpassed by a startling experience
they had a short time afterwards. On going to their working ground
one morning, two or three Indians in advance of the remainder of the
party saw, lying across the path, what they took to be the trunk
of a tree that had fallen during the night; and they sat upon it,
indolently, to wait for the others to come up. Suddenly, one of them
sprang up, exclaiming, "It's alive! I felt it move! It is breathing!"
They all jumped up, in alarm, when the great snake--for such it proved
to be--glided off into the wood. Most likely the others would have
ridiculed their story, but that Templemore happened to come up in time
to witness what occurred. And through the underwood, on both sides of
the path, was plainly to be seen a sort of small tunnel that marked the
place where the serpent had been lying asleep.
Matava and his fellows, of course, insisted that this was the great
'camoodi,' that Indian tradition had long declared existed in this
forest--set there specially, by the demons of the mountain, to guard it
from intrusion.
These constant dangers and adventures made the task of keeping the
Indians from deserting doubly difficult, and rendered the work both
harassing and tedious to the others. Only Monella showed no weariness,
no sign of the strain it all involved; so far from that, these troubles
seemed only to increase his vigilance, his power of endurance, and his
determination.
And all the time they were cutting their way through vegetation that
would have astonished and delighted the heart of a botanical collector
such as Dr. Lorien. Not only within the wood, but in the whole district
round, unknown and wondrous flowers and plants abounded. But the
explorers had neither time nor inclination to take that interest in
them they merited, and would, at any other time, have undoubtedly
excited.[9]
[9] See extract given in the preface (page viii.) from Richard
Schomburgk's book 'Reissen in Britisch Guiana.'