Advancing cautiously, the travellers arrived at the brink of a dark
ravine, in the bottom of which there was a good deal of brushwood, with
here and there several pools of water. They had remained a short time
here on the top of the bank, listening to the various barks and cries of
the wild animals around them, when their attention was arrested by
several loud yelps, which sounded as if some creature were approaching
them fast. Bunco signed to them to stoop and follow him. They did so,
and had not advanced a hundred yards when the loud clatter of hoofs was
heard. Bunco crouched instantly and held his gun in readiness, while
his black eyes glittered and his expressive features seemed to blaze
with eagerness. His followers also crouched among the bushes, and each
grasped his club with a feeling that it was but a poor weapon of defence
after all--though better than nothing!
They had not to wait long, for, in a few minutes, a beautiful black wild
horse came racing like the wind along the clear part of the ravine in
the direction of the place where they were concealed. The magnificent
creature was going at his utmost speed, being pursued by a large tiger,
and the steam burst from his distended nostrils, while his voluminous
mane and tail waved wildly in the air. The tiger gained on him rapidly.
Its bounds were tremendous; at each leap it rose several feet from the
ground. The poor horse was all but exhausted, for he slipped and came
down on his knees, when abreast of, and not thirty yards distant from,
the place where the travellers lay. The tiger did not miss his
opportunity. He crouched and ran along with the twisting motion of a
huge cat; then he sprang a clear distance of twenty feet and alighted on
the horse's back, seizing him by the neck with a fearful growl. Now
came Bunco's opportunity. While the noble horse reared and plunged
violently in a vain attempt to get rid of his enemy, the cautious native
took a steady aim, and was so long about it that some of the party
nearly lost patience with him. At last he fired, and the tiger fell off
the horse, rolling and kicking about in all directions--evidently badly
wounded. The horse meanwhile galloped away and was soon lost to view.
Instead of loading and firing again, Bunco threw down his gun, and,
drawing a long knife, rushed in upon his victim. His comrades, who
thought him mad, sprang after him, but he had closed with the tiger and
plunged his knife into it before they came up. The creature uttered a
tremendous roar and writhed rapidly about, throwing up clouds of dust
from the dry ground, while Bunco made another dash at him and a plunge
with his long knife, but he missed the blow and fell. His comrades
closed in and brandished their clubs, but the rapid motions of man and
beast rendered it impossible for them to strike an effective blow
without running the risk of hitting the man instead of the tiger. In
the midst of a whirlwind of dust and leaves, and a tempest of roars and
yells, the bold native managed to drive his knife three times into the
animal's side, when it rolled over with a savage growl and expired.
"Are ye hurt, Bunco?" inquired Will Osten with much anxiety, when the
man rose, covered with dust and blood, and stood before them.
"No moche hurt, only scrash a bit."
"Scratched a bit!" exclaimed Larry, "it's torn to tatters ye ought to be
for bein' so venturesome."
"That's so," said Muggins; "ye shouldn't ha' done it, Bunco; what would
have comed of us if ye'd bin killed, eh?"
"Oh, dat am noting," said Bunco, drawing himself up proudly; "me hab
kill lots of dem before; but dis one hims die hard."
Will Osten, who was anxious to ascertain whether the man had really
escaped serious injury, put a stop to the conversation by hurrying him
off to the nearest pool and washing his wounds. They proved, as he had
said, to be trifling--only a slight bite on the shoulder and a few
tears, by the animal's claws, on the arms and thighs. When these were
dressed, Bunco went to work actively to skin the tiger,--an operation
which he performed with great expedition, and then, having rolled it
into a convenient bundle and slung it on his back, he re-loaded his gun
and again resumed his duties as guide. They had not gone far when a
fierce growling behind them told that other wild animals, probably
tigers, had scented out the carcass of the slain animal, and were
already quarrelling over their meal.
Shortly after this they came suddenly and quite unexpectedly on a house
or hut, which turned out to be the residence of a man who was half
Spaniard half Indian. The man received them kindly, and, finding that
Bunco could speak Spanish, offered them hospitality with great
politeness and evident satisfaction.
"Good luck to 'e, boy," said Larry, when their host invited them to
partake of a substantial meal, to which he had been about to sit down
when they arrived, "it's myself'll be proud to welcome ye to ould
Ireland if iver ye come that way."
"Ask him, Bunco," said Will Osten, "where we are, how far we are from
the coast, and what is the name and distance of the nearest town."
To these questions the Spaniard replied that they were in the northern
part of the Republic of Ecuador, and not, as they had supposed, in Peru,
which lay some hundreds of miles to the southward; that a couple of
days' walking would bring them to the coast, and that in two days more
they could reach the town of Tacames. This, being one of the few ports
on the western coast of South America where vessels touched, was a place
from which they might probably be able to make their way to California.
He added that there was a rumour of gold having been discovered of late
in that region, but, for his part, he didn't believe it, for he had
heard the same rumour several times before, and nothing had ever come of
it, at least as far as he knew.
"Ye're wrong there, intirely, mister what's-yer-name," said Larry
O'Hale, pausing for a moment in the midst of his devotion to the good
things spread before him. "Sure it's my own brother Ted as wos out
there a year gone by, an' he swore he picked up goold like stones an'
putt them in his pocket, but the capting o' the ship he sailed in towld
him it wos brass, an' his mates laughed at him to that extint that he
flung it all overboord in a passion. Faix, I've made up my mind that
there _is_ goold in Callyforny and that wan Larry O'Hale is distined for
to make his fortin' there--so I'll throuble ye for another hunk o' that
pottimus, or wotiver ye call it. Prime prog it is, anyhow."
An earnest discussion here followed as to the probability of gold having
been found in California, and whether it was worth their while to try
their fortune in that direction. During the course of the meal, the
Spaniard incidentally mentioned that on the previous night a tiger had
broken into his enclosure, and injured a bullock so badly that he had
been obliged to kill it, and he had little doubt the same beast would
pay him another visit that night.
This was good news to the travellers, all of whom were keen--though not
all expert--sportsmen.
As evening had already set in, they begged to be allowed to rest for a
little so as to be ready for the tiger when he came. Their host at once
conducted them into a small room, where several hammocks were suspended
from the walls. Into these they quickly jumped, and, in a few minutes,
the concert played by their noses told a tale of sweet repose after a
day of unusual toil.
For several hours they slept, and then the Spaniard awoke them with the
information that the tiger was coming! Up they sprang, as a matter of
course, and with considerable noise too, but Bunco soon impressed them
with the necessity of being quiet. The Spaniard had only two guns, one
of which he handed to Will Osten. The seamen were of necessity left to
be spectators.
It is necessary here to describe the Spaniard's hut, which was peculiar
as to its architecture. It was a mere shed made of bamboo canes closely
placed together, and roofed with large cocoa and other leaves. The
floor was of rough boards covered with matting. The whole structure
stood on the top of a number of strong posts about twelve or fourteen
feet from the ground, and the entrance was gained by a ladder which
could be drawn up at night. The object of this great elevation and the
ladder, was protection from the nocturnal visit of wild beasts such as
tigers or jaguars, as well as monkeys of a large size. In the door of
this hut there was a hole of about two feet square, at which the host
stationed himself with the muzzle of his gun thrust through it. Two
smaller holes in the walls, which served for windows, were used on the
present occasion as loopholes by Will Osten and Bunco.
Perfect silence was maintained for about half an hour. The sky was
cloudless and the moon full. Not a breath of wind stirred a leaf of the
forest that encircled the small clearing. The buzz of mosquitoes, or
the flapping about of a huge bat alone disturbed the silence of the
night, and the watchers were beginning to fear it would turn out to be a
false alarm, when the cattle in the yard began to low in a quick yet
mournful tone. They knew full well that their enemy was at hand! A few
minutes, that appeared an age, of anxiety followed. Then some bullocks
that had been purposely fastened near the hut began to bellow furiously.
Another instant, and the tiger cleared the fence with a magnificent
bound, alighted in the yard, and crouched for a spring. The moon shone
full in his glaring eyeballs, making his head a splendid target. Three
shots crashed out in one report, and with a roar that would have done
credit to the monarch of the African wilderness, this king of the
western forest fell down and died.
He was a full-grown tiger with a beautifully marked skin, which Bunco
was not long in stripping from the carcass, while the Spaniard, who was
highly delighted by this success, set about preparing breakfast. They
were all too much excited to think of going to bed again; and, besides,
it was within an hour of daybreak.
During the morning Will Osten persuaded his host to give him one of his
old guns in exchange for a beautiful silver-mounted hunting knife, which
was the only article of value that he happened to possess. With this
useful addition to their arms, the travellers resumed their journey
shortly after dawn, being convoyed several miles on their way by their
amiable host. They parted from him, finally, with much regret and many
professions of gratitude and esteem, especially from Larry, who, in the
fulness of his impulsive nature, reiterated his pressing invitation to
pay him a visit in his "swait little cabin in the bog of Clonave, County
Westmeath, ould Ireland!"
We will not drag the reader through every step of the rough and
adventurous journey which was accomplished by our travellers in the
succeeding week, during which they became so familiar with tigers, that
Muggins thought no more of their roaring than he did of the mewing of
cats, while Larry actually got the length of kicking the "sarpints" out
of his way, although he did express his conviction, now and then, that
the "counthry wos mightily in want of a visit from Saint Patrick." They
travelled steadily and surely under the guidance of the faithful Bunco,
through tangled brake, and wild morass, and dense forest, and many a
mile of sandy plain, until at length they reached the small town and
port of _Tacames_, into which they entered one sultry afternoon,
footsore and weary, with their clothes torn almost to tatters, and
without a single coin--of any realm whatever--in their pockets.
"Well, here we are at last," said Will Osten, with a sigh.
"True for ye," responded Larry.
"That's so," said Muggins.
"It's all well as ends well, which wos Billy Cowper's opinion," observed
Old Peter.
Bunco made no remark, but he gave a quiet grunt, which might have meant
anything--or nothing--as they entered the town.