They would not allow Benee to harbour for a single moment the idea of
stealing the queen and escaping with her into the forest.
Two thousand armed men were stationed within a mile of the camp, so
Benee would speedily be killed, and in all likelihood Queen Peggy also.
No; and he must go no farther into the land of the cannibals.
But he, Shooks-gee, undertook to give the queen a little note-book, in
which a letter was written from her "brother", stating that all haste
was being made to come to her deliverance. He would receive back the
note-book, and therein would doubtless be written poor Peggy's letter.
Meanwhile Benee must wait.
Shooks-gee started on his mission next day.
He was away for a whole week, but it seemed but a few hours to Benee.
He had divested himself of his arms, and given the cloth and beads to
Weenah's mother. Then all the dear old life of his boyhood seemed to be
renewed. Weenah and he wandered wild and free once more in the forest
and over the heath-clad plains; they fished in lake and stream; they ate
and drank together under the shade of the pine-tree, and listened to the
love-song of the sweet soo-soo.
It was all like a happy, happy dream. And is not the love-life of the
young always a dream of bliss? Ah! but it is one from which there is
ever an awakening.
And with the return of Shooks-gee, Benee's dream came to an end.
Peggy had written her long, sad story in the notebook.
Benee knew it was long, but he could not read it.
Then farewells were said.
The child Weenah clung to Benee's neck and wept. She thought she could
not let him go, and at last he had to gently tear himself away and
disappear speedily in the forest.
Just one glance back at Weenah's sad and wistful face, then the jungle
swallowed him up, and he would be seen by Weenah, mayhap, never again.
----
It was not without considerable misgivings that Roland and Dick Temple
made a start for the country of the cannibals.
The relief party consisted but of one hundred white men all told, with
about double that number of carriers. It was, of course, the first real
experience of these boys on the war-path, and difficulty after
difficulty presented itself, but was bravely met and overcome.
"Uneasy lies the head that wears a crown."
Probably the general of an army, be it of what size it may, is more to
be pitied than even a king. The latter has his courtiers and his
parliament to advise him; the general is _princeps_, he is chief, and
has only his own skill and judgment to fall back upon.
It had been suggested by Burly Bill that instead of journeying overland
as a first start, and having to cross the whirling river Purus and many
lesser streams before striking the Madeira some distance above the
Amazon, they should drop down-stream in steamer-loads, and assemble at
the junction of the former with the latter.
Neither Roland nor Dick thought well of the plan, and herein lay their
first mistake. Not only was it weeks before they were able to reach the
Madeira, but they had the grief of losing one white man and one Indian
with baggage in the crossing of the Purus.
We cannot put old heads on young shoulders; nevertheless the wise youth
never fails to profit by the experience of his elders.
Even when they reached the forest lands on the west side of the Madeira,
another long delay ensued. For here they had to encamp on somewhat damp
and unwholesome ground until Burly Bill should descend the stream to
hire canoes or boats suitable for passing the rapids.
Don Pedro or Peter was now doing his best to make himself agreeable. He
was laughing and singing all day long, but this fact in no way deceived
Roland, and as a special precaution he told off several white men to act
as detectives and to be near him by day and by night.
If Peter were really the blood-guilty wretch that Roland, if not Dick,
believed him to be, he made one mistake now. He tried his very utmost
to make friends with Brawn, the great Irish wolf-hound, but was, of
course, unsuccessful.
"I sha'n't take bite nor sup from that evil man's hand," Brawn seemed to
say to himself. "He looks as if he would poison me. But," he added,
"he shall have my undivided attention at night."
And so this huge hound guarded Peter, never being ten yards away from
the man's sleeping-skin till up leapt the sun in the gold and crimson
east and shone on the waters of the beautiful river.
"That dog is getting very fond of you, I think," said Roland one day to
Peter, while Brawn was snuffing his hand. "You see how well he protects
you by night. He will never lie near to either Dick or me."
Peter replied in words that were hardly audible, but were understood to
mean that he was obliged to Brawn for his condescension. But he
somewhat marred the beauty of his reply by adding a swear-word or two at
the end.
While they waited in camp here for the return of Bill and his crews,
they went in for sport of several sorts.
The fish in this river are somewhat remarkable--remarkable alike for
their numbers and for their appearance--but all are not edible.
"How are we to know, I wonder, which we should cook and which we
shouldn't?" said Roland to his friend, Dick Temple.
"I think," replied Dick, "that we may safely cook any of them, but, as
to eating, why, I should only eat those that are nice in flavour."
"That's right. We'll be guided by that rule."
The boys fished from canoes which they hired or requisitioned from the
Indian natives of the place. Clever these fellows are, and the manner in
which they watch for and harpoon or even spear a huge "boto"--which
looks like a long-snouted porpoise or "sea-pig"--astonished our heroes.
This fish is killed by whites only for its oil, but the Indians did not
hesitate to cut huge fourteen-pound pieces from the back to take home
for culinary purposes.
The "piraroocoo" is an immense fellow, and calculated to give good sport
for a long summer day if you do not know how to handle him.
This "'roocoo", as some of the natives call him, likes to hang around in
the back reaches of the river, and is often found ten feet in length.
He has the greatest objection in the world to being caught, and to being
killed after being dragged on shore. Moreover, he has a neat and very
expert way of lifting a canoe on his back for a few seconds, and letting
it down bottom-upwards.
When he does so, you, the sportsman or piscador, find yourself
floundering in the water. You probably gulp down about half a gallon of
river water, but you thank your stars you learned to swim when a boy,
and strike out for the bank. But five to one you have a race to run
with an intelligent 'gator. If he is hungry, you may as well think
about some short prayer to say; if he is not very ravenous, you may win
just by a neck.
This last was an experience of Dick's one day; when a 'roocoo capsized
his frail canoe and his Indian and he got spilt.
Luckily Roland was on the beach, and just as a huge 'gator came
ploughing up behind poor Dick, with head and awful jaws above water,
Roland took steady aim and fired. Then the creature turned on his back,
and the river was dyed with blood.
The natives salt the 'roocoo and eat it. But Roland's Indian carriers
managed to get through as many as could be caught, without any salt
worth speaking about.
Surely the fish in this beautiful river must have thought it strange,
that so many of their number were constantly disappearing heavenwards at
the end of a line. But it did not trouble them very much after all, and
they learnt no lesson from what they saw, but took the bait as readily
as ever.
There were very many other species of fish, which not only gave good
sport but made a most delicious _addendum_ to the larder.
Boats and canoes were now in the river all day long, and with the fish
caught, and the turtle which were found in great abundance, not to
mention the wild animals killed in the woods, Roland managed to feed his
little army well.
There is one fish in this river which is sometimes called "diabolo". He
is no relation at all, however, to the real octopus or devil-fish, for
this creature is flat. It seems a species of ray, and has an immense
mouthful of the very sharpest of teeth. He is not at all dainty as to
what he eats. He can make a meal off fresh-water shell-fish; he can
swallow his smaller brothers of the deep; take a snack from a dead
'gator, and is quite at home while discussing a nice tender one-pound
steak from a native's leg.
The young 'gator is neither fish, flesh, nor good red-herring. Yet if
you catch one not over a yard long, and he doesn't catch you--for he has
a wicked way of seizing a man by the hand and holding on till his mother
comes,--his tail, stewed or fried with a morsel of pork, will tide you
over a "hungry hillock" very pleasantly indeed.
If we turn to the pleasant reaches of the River Madeira, or the quiet
back-waters, and, gun on shoulder, creep warily through the bush and
scrub, we shall be rewarded with a sight that will well repay our
caution.
Here of an early morning we shall see water-fowl innumerable, and of the
greatest beauty imaginable.
Hidden from view, one is loth indeed to fire a shot and so disturb
Nature's harmony, but prefers, for a time at all events, to crouch there
quietly and watch the strange antics of the male birds and the meek
docility of the female.
Here are teal, black ducks, strange wild geese, brown ducks, sheldrakes,
widgeons, and whatnot.
And yonder on the shore, in all sorts of droll attitudes with their
ridiculously long necks and legs, are storks and herons. I think they
like to perform their toilet close to the calm pellucid water, because
it serves the same purpose to them as a bedroom mirror does to us.
Young tapirs form a welcome addition to the larder, and the woods all
round abound in game.
What a paradise! and yet this country is hardly yet known to us young
Britons. We hear of ague. Bah! Regularity of living, and a dust of
quinine, and camping in the open, can keep fever of all sorts at bay.
Some may be surprised that our heroes should have settled down, as it
were, so enthusiastically to fishing and sporting, although uncertain
all the while as to the fate of poor kidnapped Peggy.
True, but we must remember that activity and constant employment are the
only cure for grief. So long, then, as Roland and Dick were busy with
gun or fishing-rod, they were free from thought and care.
But after sunset, when the long dark night closed over the camp; when
the fire-flies danced from bush to bush, and all was still save the wind
that sighed among the trees, or the voices of night-birds and prowling
beasts, and the rush of the river fell on the ear in drowsy, dreamy
monotone, then the boys felt their anxiety acutely enough, but bravely
tried to give each other courage, and their conversation, oft-repeated,
was somewhat as follows:--
_Roland_. "You're a bit gloomy to-night, Dick, I think?"
_Dick_. "Well, Roll, the night is so pitchy dark, never a moon, and
only a star peeping out now and then. Besides I am thinking of--"
_Roland_. "Hush! hush! aren't we both always thinking about her?
Though I won't hesitate to say it is wrong not to be hopeful and
cheerful."
_Dick_. "But do you believe--"
_Roland_. "I believe this, Dick, that if those kidnapping revengeful
Indians had meant murder they would have slain the dear child in bed and
not have resorted to all that horrible trickery--instigated without
doubt by somebody. She has been taken to the country of the cannibals,
but not to be tortured. She is a slave, let us hope, to some Indian
princess, and well-guarded too. What we have got to do is to trust in
God. I'm no preacher, but that is so. And we've got to do our duty and
rescue Peggy."
_Dick_. "Dead or alive, Roland."
_Roland_. "Dead or alive, Dick. But Heaven have mercy on the souls of
those who harm a hair of her head!"
----
Dick did his best to trust in Providence, but often in the middle
watches of the night he would lie in his tent thinking, thinking, and
unable to sleep; then, after perhaps an uneasy slumber towards morning,
awake somewhat wearily to resume the duties of the day.