THE MYSTERIOUS LIGHTS
The usual rate of travel did not average two and a half miles an hour,
and while the first and second days were vigorous ones, they were not so
much disposed to hurry up now, and were taking the trip more leisurely,
thus giving more time to the examination of trees and plants and
flowers, and to investigating the geological formation of the country.
The new river was not, in all probability, more than seventy miles from
the Cataract home.
Beyond, fully a day's march, was the mountain chain--not a high range,
but an elevation which showed a broken skyline. The mountains below the
South River did not now seem so formidable; and directly to the south
they could see no ranges or hill elevations. To the north the sea might
be ten or fifty miles away. The river flowed past them at the rate of
about two miles an hour.
That evening, while sitting on the bank, Harry had an idea. "We made a
mistake in calling our home river the West River. Let us call this the
West, and rename our stream the Cataract River."
"Very well; as George does not object, the Geographical Society will
please take notice, and make the change."
George was of the impression that to settle the question of the
direction they should take in their future explorations, was the most
important thing to determine.
An entire day was spent in and about the vicinity of the river. New
plants and shrubbery of various kinds were constantly sought for and
examined--they fished and hunted; and on the morning of the third day it
was decided to move on.
"We have not yet sighted any original inhabitants, and have found no
signs of people living here; nevertheless, we had traces of a fire
thirty or forty miles east of here. That is what puzzles me."
"I am in favor of following this stream to the north," was Harry's
conclusion, "unless we make a raft and cross the river."
Harry's view finally prevailed, and at noon of that day they camped at
the mouth of a little stream which flowed into the West River. Beyond
was a forest, and on the opposite side of the West River the wood had
all along been dense. At that point the trees did not come down to the
stream, and there was considerable lowland between the river and the
forest.
The Professor and George wandered up the banks of the little stream on a
prospecting tour, as had been their constant practice. When they
returned Harry knew something unusual had occurred from the excited
appearance of George.
"What is it? Any animals?"
"No; only this." And George held up an arrow made of flint. The wooden
portion of the arrow was really of good workmanship, and of hard, stiff
wood.
"Where did you find this?"
"Not more than five hundred feet from here."
Harry looked at the Professor for an explanation, but he was silent. By
common consent they now agreed upon making a more extended investigation
of the vicinity for other traces, if possible. Within an hour Harry
stumbled across the skull of an animal. This was not an unusual sight,
as bones had been found at various places in their travels, but here was
a specimen, lying on a rocky slope, with but little vegetation about it.
[Illustration: _Fig. 2 Types of Arrow-Heads._]
"I should like to know what animal this belonged to?"
The Professor examined the bones critically, without venturing an
opinion. "What is this?" were his first words. Directly behind the ear
cavity was a split or broken cleavage in which they found a round piece
of dark wood.
"Get the bolo, George; we may find something interesting here." With a
few strokes the skull was opened, and embedded within the brain
receptacle was an arrow.
"This animal was, as you see, killed by the inhabitants of the island. I
infer that there are several tribes living here."
The boys looked at each other in astonishment.
"Why do you think so?"
"This arrow is different in shape and in structure from the sample we
found this morning."
The boys now noticed the difference.
"Do different tribes make their implements differently?"
"There is just as much difference among savages in the way they make
their weapons and different implements, as among civilized people. Our
customs differ; our manufactured articles are not the same; and
sometimes the manner of using the tools is unlike; and the divergence is
frequently so wide that it has been difficult in many cases to trace the
causes and explain the reasons. Such an instance may be found in the
Chinese way of holding a saw, with the teeth projecting from the sawyer.
For years all tools and machinery made in England could be instantly
recognized by those versed in manufacturing, on account of the bulk, as
their tools were uniformly made larger and heavy, as compared with the
French and American manufacture."
This conclusion verified the Professor's observation, and you may be
sure that the new discovery gave an air of gravity to the camp which it
did not have before.
"I also wanted to say to-day," was the Professor's last remark that
night, "I am satisfied that there is no intimate intercourse between the
different tribes on the island." The boys looked at each other without
questioning, as usual; but the next morning, as soon as George awoke,
his first observation was: "I can't understand what makes you think that
the natives of the different tribes do not associate with each other."
"Simply for the reason that the styles of the arrows differ so greatly.
With them, as with civilized people, the intermingling of the races
should tend to make their tools and implements alike."
The next night, after the evening meal, they sat in the wagon until
late, discussing their future course. It was now fully nine months since
they left home. The thought that their parents and friends would
consider them lost was the hardest thing to bear. Did the boys ever get
homesick? I need not suggest such an idea to make it more real than it
was to them. With beautiful home surroundings, loving parents and
brothers and sisters, absence, uncertainty; the fear that they would
never again be able to return; danger all about them; the belief that
perils still awaited them, which fears were now, in all probability, to
be realized, all these things did not tend to produce a pleasant
perspective to the mind.
But the Professor was a philosopher. He knew that the human mind craved
activity. If it could not be exercised in a useful direction it would
invariably spend its energies in dangerous channels. He knew this to be
particularly true of young people.
Boys are naturally inquisitive. Their minds are active, like their
bodies. They must have exercise; why not direct it into paths of
usefulness, where their accomplishments could be seen and understood by
the boys themselves.
That thought is the parent of the manual training system, where the
education imparted comes through the joint exercise of brain and muscle.
Boys resent all work which comes to them under the guise of play; and
all play which is labeled "work." But when there is a need for a thing,
and the inquisitive nature of the boy, or his mental side, starts an
inquiry, the manual, or the muscular part of him, is stimulated to the
production of the article needed to fill that want.
The Professor did not force any information upon the boys, as will be
noticed. It was his constant aim to let inquiry and performance come
from them.
Could anything have been more stimulating or encouraging than the
building of the water wheel, the sawmill, or the wagon? See what
enjoyment and profit they derived from it. Thus far they had not given
their time and the great enthusiasm to their various enterprises because
of the money returns. Do you think it would have made their labors
lighter, or the knowledge of their success any sweeter if they had been
paid for their work?
The "Baby" went to sleep early, as was his custom now, and the boys and
the Professor sat up later that night than usual, talking over their
condition, and the situation as it appeared to them. The day had been
exceedingly warm, following the rains.
Harry, who was seated facing the river, suddenly sprang up and excitedly
grasped the Professor's arm, as he pointed across the river: "Look at
that light!"
There, plainly in the distance, was a light, not stationary, but
flickering, and, apparently, moving slightly to and fro.
"It seems as though it is at the edge of the woods," remarked George.
The distance was fully a half mile away.
"It can't be possible that people are over there," said Harry, not so
much in a tone of inquiry as of surprise. "How far do you think it is
from here?"
"Probably one-half mile, or more. We might be able to learn something if
we should fire a gun," was the Professor's reply.
The boys were naturally astonished at the boldness of this remark. Other
lights now appeared, some dim, others brighter. The firing of a gun
seemed to them a most hazardous thing to do, but no doubt the Professor
had a reason for making the suggestion.
It was quite a time before either of the boys responded to this
proposal. In their minds it was a daring enterprise.
"If we should fire a gun the noise would likely startle them, and the
first impulse of the savages would be to extinguish the lights."
George, who had the spirit of adventure more strikingly developed than
Harry, was the first to concur.
"I am going to try it at any rate; we might just as well know what we
have to face now, as later on."
"So you are really going to shoot?" said the Professor.
"If you so urge it, yes."
"Then let me suggest what to do. All savages have a keen sense of
direction. It is one of their chief accomplishments. You and Harry go
back, up the river, a quarter of a mile, or so, and take with you one of
our coverings. Then shoot behind the blanket, so the flash will not be
seen, and I will remain here and watch the effect."
There was no delay in their preparations. Within fifteen minutes the
shot rang out, and almost immediately thereafter every light had
disappeared. The boys were also keen enough to note the extinguished
lights, and returned to the Professor in a hurry.
"The disappearance of the lights is not conclusive evidence that human
beings were there. It might have been a mere coincidence."
"Coincidence! What do you mean by that?"
"Did it not occur to you that the lights might be natural phenomena?"
"Of what?"
"Of phosphorescence."
"Do you mean 'will-o'-the-wisp'?"
"It is sometimes called by that name. It is caused by decaying vegetable
matter, and exhibits itself in the form of gases of phosphorus, which
appears to burn, but does not, like the vapor which is produced by
rubbing certain matches in the dark."
"But how do you account for the disappearance after we shot?"
"I thought they might have disappeared naturally, after you fired, and,
therefore, said it might have been a mere coincidence."
This explanation was not a satisfying one for the boys, and the
Professor did not place much faith in it, for the following reasons:
"I believe it is our duty now to keep watches during the night, which we
can do by turns, so that the sentinel will quietly awaken the next one
in his turn, or both in the event of any unusual happening; and
furthermore, we should make an early start in the morning."
George was the first watch, and, by agreement, Harry was to be the next,
in two hours, for the second period. Before that time passed Baby was
very restless, and George tried to soothe him; but before long he began
crying. A lusty orang, however small, in a still night, makes an awfully
loud noise. The boys never heard anything as loud and as frightful as
that cry appeared to them.
All were awake, of course, but the Baby refused to be quieted for fully
a quarter of an hour.
"Don't you think Baby's cries will direct the savages to us?"
"It is not at all likely. The savages have no doubt heard the cries many
times. It is your imagination which is playing you tricks. Do you
suppose the savages know we are here and have a captive orang?"
During the rest of the night they took sleep in snatches, and morning
was long in coming. Harry had busied himself in getting a hasty
breakfast while the others slept, and Baby was up leaping around
nervously, and springing from branch to branch on the adjacent trees.
Having finished breakfast, the yaks were yoked, and before the sun was
visible they were on their way to the north, as fast as the yaks could
travel.
The whole camp partook of watchfulness now. Every hour and every mile
they scanned the landscape, and, for further precaution, kept away from
close proximity to the river bed. That was not a safe route, as enemies
on the other side of the river would have an unobstructed view, whereas
by traveling inland, but within sight of the river, they could still
view the banks of the stream.
"The scout who leads the way must go a certain distance, then make
observations in all quarters. He must take particular note of objects
which afford places of concealment, and the eye must be alert enough to
observe every undue movement in limb or leaf. Sound is one of the things
he must cultivate. A noise of any kind should be analyzed. A scout once
told me that on one occasion during the war, his life was saved because
he saw one limb of a tree move more than an adjoining one. At another
time, in trailing through a forest, he saw a leaf on the ground,
differing in color from those around it. In walking along he had noticed
that some of the leaves he overturned had the same color, and inferred
that as no wind had been blowing, and all the trees were bare, something
must have turned the leaf, and subsequent events confirmed his
reasonings."
The boys quickly learned their lessons. Each knew that every step
forward meant an entrance to an unknown world.