All through that long night Westy and Rip took turns trying to get some
sleep on the hard bowlder. Tired and sleepy though they were, they
couldn’t rest any more than a few moments at a time and were more than
glad to give up their uncomfortable berth to one another.
It was Westy’s turn to sit up and he thought it must be way past
midnight. How they would welcome the coming dawn! He was so cold and as
he sat there shivering in the pouring rain, he wondered if they would
ever find their way out. He shivered more when he thought of Lola’s
verdict about those who had been trapped there before.
Surely, there must be some mysterious force at work there! What else was
it that made them lose their tracks so easily? He wondered if Rip had
overcome his skepticism and accepted Lola’s story as true. No matter
what name people gave it, Westy was convinced that something
supernatural had invaded that dark dank place and reigned supreme.
There wasn’t a sound but the falling rain and it seemed to be growing
more silent all the time. He thought that every breathing thing but they
in that vast jungle must be dry and sheltered.
He was trying to shield Rip’s face with his hands and had covered his
legs with his blouse. His head continually sagged forward, while his
whole body felt cramped from the unnatural position he was in, but he
thought as he exercised a little to relieve the tension, they had to
stick close together in a case like that, no matter how it hurt.
It never occurred to Westy to feel any resentment toward the younger boy
and that Rip’s perversity was responsible for their precarious
situation. He just simply took things as they came along and whether
purposely or not, forgot the root of the evil entirely.
Westy was that kind of a scout.
Finally he came out of his chilly reverie with a start. Rip was actually
sleeping. He grinned as he thought of the saying of being tired enough
to sleep on a rock. Rip certainly must have an iron-bound back to sleep
all that time. Well, let him; it would do him good!
The continual downpour made Westy wonder again what they were going to
do about drinking water. He was beginning to feel a little feverish
already. They’d have to drink the rain water if they could find
something to catch it in--but there wasn’t much likelihood of finding
anything.
Their last resort would be the stagnant pools that were gradually
deepening and widening all over from the incessant rain. Perhaps the
dawn would bring the sunshine, he thought hopefully.
Rip moved suddenly and cried, as in fright.
“What’s the matter, kid?” Westy thought he was dreaming.
“There’s something heavy on my hand--I can’t move it.”
He reached out and felt around in the darkness to where Rip’s hand had
dangled on the ground in his sleep.
Even in the dark as his own hand came in contact with the cold, slimy
object Westy knew instinctively what it was.
Huge and heavy, it had rested its whole weight on the sleeping boy’s
hand, and quickly seizing it in both of his own, Westy flung it as far
as his strength permitted.
“What was it, Wes?” Rip was relieved as he heard the thud of the falling
thing.
“Nothing--just a nice big snake!”