Roland and Dick walked quickly towards the camp.
It was all a scene of bustle and stir indescribable, for good news as
well as bad travels apace.
"Bill and the boats are coming!" Englishmen were shouting.
"Beel and de boats!" chorused the Indians.
But on the approach of "the young captains", as the boys were called,
comparative peace was restored.
"Had anyone seen Mr. Peter?" was the first question put by our heroes to
their white officers. "No," from all.
"He had disappeared for a few moments in his tent," said an Indian,
"then der was no more Massa Peter."
Scouts and armed runners were now speedily got together, and Roland gave
them orders. They were to search the bush and forest, making a long
detour or outflanking movement, then closing round a centre, as if in
battue, to allow not a tree to go unexamined.
This was all that could be done.
So our heroes retraced their steps towards the river bank, where, lo!
they beheld a whole fleet of strange canoes, big and small, being rowed
swiftly towards them.
In the bows of the biggest--a twelve-tonner--stood Burly Bill himself.
He was blacker with the sun than ever, and wildly waving the broadest
kind of Panama hat ever seen on the Madeira. But in his left hand he
clutched his meerschaum, and such clouds was he blowing that one might
have mistaken the great canoe for a steam-launch.
He jumped on shore as soon as the prow touched the bank--the water here
being deep.
Black though Burly Bill was, his smile was so pleasant, and his face so
good-natured, that everybody who looked at him felt at once on excellent
terms with himself and with all created things.
"I suppose I ought to apologize, Mr. Roland, for the delay--I--"
"And I suppose," interrupted Roland, "you ought to do nothing of the
kind. Dinner is all ready, Bill; come and eat first. Put guards in
your boats, and march along. Your boys will be fed immediately."
It was a splendid dinner.
Burly Bill, who was more emphatic than choice in English, called it a
tiptopper, and all hands in Roland's spacious tent did ample justice to
it.
Roland even spliced the main-brace, as far as Bill was concerned, by
opening a bottle of choice port.
The boys themselves merely sipped a little. What need have lads under
twenty for vinous stimulants?
Bill's story was a long one, but I shall not repeat it. He had
encountered the greatest difficulty imaginable in procuring the sort of
boats he needed.
"But," he added, "all's well that end's well, I guess, and we'll start
soon now, I suppose, for the rapids of Antonio."
"Yes," said Roland, "we'll strike camp possibly to-morrow; but we must
do as much loading up as possible to-night."
"That's the style," said Bill. "We've got to make haste. Only we've
got to think! 'Haste but not hurry', that's my motto.
"But I say," he continued, "I miss two friends--where is Mr. Peter and
where is Brawn?"
"Peter has taken French leave, I fear, and Brawn, where is Brawn, Dick?"
"I really did not miss either till now," answered Dick, "but let us
continue to be fair to Mr. Peter-- Listen!"
At that moment shouting was heard far down the forest.
The noise came nearer and nearer, and our heroes waited patiently.
In five minutes' time into the tent bounded the great wolf-hound,
gasping but laughing all down both sides, and with about a foot of pink
tongue--more or less--hanging out at one side, over his alabaster teeth.
He quickly licked Roland's ears and Dick's, then uttered one joyous bark
and made straight for Burly Bill.
Yes, Bill was burly, but Brawn fairly rolled him over and nearly
smothered him with canine caresses. Then he took a leap back to the boys
as much as to say:
"Why don't you rejoice too? Wouff--wouff! Aren't you glad that Bill
has returned? Wouff! What would life be worth anyhow without Bill?
Wouff--wouff--wow!"
But the last wow ended in a low growl, as Peter himself stood smiling at
the opening.
"Why, Mr. Peter, we thought you were lost!" cried Dick.
Mr. Peter walked up to Bill and shook hands.
"Glad indeed to see you back," he said nonchalantly, "and you're not
looking a bit paler. Any chance of a morsel to eat?"
"Sit down," cried Dick. "Steward!"
"Yes, sah; to be surely, sah. Dinner foh Massa Peter? One moment,
sah."
Mr. Peter was laughing now, but he had seated himself on the withered
grass as far as possible from Brawn.
"I must say that three hours in a tree-top gives one the devil's own
appetite," he began. "I had gone to take a stroll in the forest, you
know--"
"Yes," said Roland, "we do know."
Mr. Peter looked a little crestfallen, but said pointedly enough: "If
you do know, there is no need for me to tell you."
"Oh, yes, go on!" cried Dick.
"Well then, I had not gone half a mile, and was just lighting up a
cigarette, when Brawn came down on me, and I had barely time to spring
into the tree before he reached the foot of it. There I waited as
patiently as Job would have done--thank you, steward, what a splendid
Irish stew!--till by and by--a precious long by and by--your boys came
to look for Brawn, and in finding Brawn they found poor famishing me.
Thank you, Bill, I'll be glad of a little wine."
"Looking for Brawn, they found you, eh!" said Roland. "I should have
put it differ--"
But Dick punched Roland's leg, and Roland laughed and said no more.
----
Two days after the arrival of Burly Bill an order was given for general
embarkation. All under their several officers were inspected on the
river bank, and to each group was allotted a station in boat or canoe.
The head men or captains from whom Bill had hired the transport were in
every instance retained, but a large number of Roland's own Indians were
most expert rowers, and therefore to take others would only serve to
load the vessels uncomfortably, not to say dangerously.
But peons or paddlers to the number of two or four to each large canoe
their several captains insisted on having.
The inspection on the bank was a kind of "muster by open list", and
Roland was exceedingly pleased with the result, for not a man or boy was
missing.
It was a delightful day when the expedition was at last got under way.
Roland and Dick, with Peter, to say nothing of Brawn, occupied the
after-cabin in a canoe of very light draught, but really a
twelve-tonner. The cabin was, of course, both dining-room and sleeping
berth--the lounges being skins of buffaloes and of wild beasts, but all
clean and sweet.
The cabin itself was built of bamboo and bamboo leaves lined with very
light skins, so overlapping as to make the cabin perfectly dry.
Our heroes had arranged about light, and candles were brought out as
soon as daylight began to fade.
Then the canoes were paddled towards the bank or into some beautiful
reach or back-water, and there made fast for the night with padlock and
chain.
Roland and Dick had their own reasons for taking such strict
precautions.
The first day passed without a single adventure worth relating.
The paddlers or peons, of whom there were seven on each side of our
hero's huge canoe, worked together well. They oftentimes sang or
chanted a wild indescribable kind of boat-lilt, to which the sound of
the paddles was an excellent accompaniment, but now and then the captain
would shout: "Choorka--choorka!" which, from the excitement the words
caused, evidently meant "Sweep her up!" and then the vessel seemed to
fly over the water and dance in the air.
Other canoe captains would take up the cry, and "Choorka--Choorka!"
would resound from every side.
A sort of race was on at such times, but the _Burnley Hall_, as Roland's
boat was called, nearly always left the others astern.
Dinner was cooked on shore, and nearly everyone landed at night. Only
our heroes stuck to their boat.
There were moon and stars at present, and very pleasant it was to sit,
or rather lie, at their open-sided cabin, and to watch these mirrored in
the calm water, while fire-flies danced and flitted from bush to bush.
But there was always the sorrow and the weight of grief lying deep down
in the hearts of both Roland and Dick; the ever-abiding anxiety, the one
question they kept asking themselves constantly, and which could not be
answered, "Shall we be in time to save poor Peggy?"
Mr. Peter slept on shore.
Brawn kept him company. Kept untiring watch over him. And two faithful
and well-armed Indians lay in the bush at a convenient distance.
In a previous chapter I have mentioned an ex-cannibal Bolivian, whom
Roland had made up his mind to take with him as a guide in the absence
of, or in addition to, faithful Benee.
He was called Charlie by the whites.
Charlie was as true to his master as the needle to the pole.
On the third evening of the voyage, just as Roland and Dick, with Bill,
were enjoying an after-dinner lounge in an open glade not far from the
river brink, the moon shining so brightly that the smallest of type
could easily have been read by young eyes, he suddenly appeared in their
midst.
"What cheer, Charlie?" said Roland kindly. "Come, squat thee down, and
we will give you a tiny toothful of aguardiente."
"Touchee me he, no, no!" was the reply. "He catchee de bref too muchee.
Smokee me, notwidstanding," he added.
It was one of Charlie's peculiarities that if he could once get hold of
a big word or two, he planted them in his conversation whenever he
thought he had a favourable opening.
An ex-cannibal Charlie was, and he came from the great western
unexplored district of Bolivia.
He confessed that although fond of "de pig ob de forest (tapir), de tail
ob de 'gator, and de big haboo-snake when roast," there was nothing in
all the world so satisfactory as "de fles' ob a small boy. Yum, yum! it
was goodee, goodee notwidstanding, and make bof him ear crack and him
'tumack feel wa'm."
Charlie lit up his cigarette, and then commenced to explain the reason
of his visit.
"What you callee dat?" he said, handing Burly Bill a few large purple
berries of a species of thorny laurel.
"Why," said Bill, "these are the fruit of the lanton-tree, used for
poisoning arrow-tips."
"And dis, sah. What you callee he? Mind, mind, no touchee de point!
He poison, notwidstanding."
It was a thin bamboo cane tipped with a fine-pointed nail.
Bill waited for him to explain.
He condescended to do so at last.
"Long time ago I runee away from de cannibal Indians notwidstanding. I
young den, I fat, I sweet in flesh. Sometime my leg look so nice, I
like to eat one little piecee ob myse'f. But no. Charlie not one big
fool. But de chief tink he like me. He take me to him tent one day,
den all muchee quickee he slaves run in and take up knife. Ha, ha! I
catchee knife too, notwidstanding. Charlie young and goodee and plenty
mooch blood fly.
"I killee dat chief, and killee bof slaves. Den I runned away.
"Long time I wander in de bush, but one day I come to de tents ob de
white men. Dey kind to poh Charlie, and gib me work. I lub de white
man; all same, I no lub Massa Peter."
He paused to puff at a fresh cigarette.
"And," he added, "I fine dat poison berry and dat leetle poison spear in
place where Massa Peter sleep."
"Ho, ho!" said Bill.
Charlie grew a little more excited as he continued: "As shuah as God
madee me, de debbil hisself makee dat bad man Peter. He wantee killee
poh Brawn. Dat what for, notwidstanding."
Now although there be some human beings--they are really not worth the
name--who hate dogs, every good-hearted man or woman in the world loves
those noble animals who are, next to man, the best and bravest that God
has created.
But there are degrees in the love people bear for their pets. If a
faithful dog like Brawn is constantly with one, he so wins one's
affection that death alone can sever the tie.
Not only Roland, but Dick also, dearly loved Brawn, and the bare idea
that he was in danger of his life so angered both that, had Mr. Peter
been present when honest Charlie the Indian made his communication, one
of them would most certainly have gone for him in true Etonian style,
and the man would have been hardly presentable at court for a fortnight
after at the least.
"Dick," said Roland, the red blood mounting to his brow, the fire
seeming to scintillate from his eyes. "Dick, old man, what do you
advise?"
"I know what I should like to do," answered Dick, with clenched fist and
lowered brows.
"So do I, Dick; but that might only make matters worse.
"But Heaven keep me calm, old man," he continued, "for now I shall send
for Peter and have it out with him. Not at present, you say? But,
Dick, I am all on fire. I must, I shall speak to him. Charlie, retire;
I would not have Mr. Peter taking revenge on so good a fellow as you."
At Dick's earnest request Roland waited for half an hour before he sent
for Peter.
This gentleman advanced from the camp fire humming an operatic air, and
with a cigar in hand.
"Oh, Mr. Peter," said Roland, "I was walking near your sleeping place of
last night and picked this up."
He held up the little bamboo spear.
"What is it?" said Peter. "An arrow? I suppose some of the Indians
dropped it. I never saw it before. It seems of little consequence," he
continued, "though I dare say it would suffice to pink a rat with."
He laughed lightly as he spoke. "Was this all you wanted me for, Mr.
St. Clair?"
He was handling the little spear as he spoke. Next moment:
"Merciful Father!" he suddenly screamed, "I have pricked myself! I am
poisoned! I am a dead man! Brandy-- Oh, quick-- Oh--!"
He said never a word more, but dropped on the moss as if struck by a
dum-dum bullet.
And there he lay, writhing in torture, foaming at the mouth, from which
blood issued from a bitten tongue.
It was a ghastly and horrible sight. Roland looked at Dick.
"Dick," he said, "the man knew it was poisoned."
"Better he should die than Brawn."
"Infinitely," said Roland.