We must change the scene now, and transport our reader to one of those
numerous streams which convey the surplus waters of the Andes to the
warmer regions of Bolivia, and thence, through many a wild, luxuriant
wilderness and jungle, to the Parana river, by which they ultimately
find their way to the sea.
It was approaching the afternoon of a very sultry day when Lawrence
awoke from his midday siesta under an algaroba-tree, and slowly opened
his eyes. The first object they rested upon was the brown little face
of Manuela, reposing on a pillow formed of leopard skin. In those
regions it was the practice, when convenient, to sling a network hammock
between two trees, and enjoy one's siesta in that. The Indian girl lay
in her hammock, with her eyes shut, and her little mouth open,--not
undignifiedly open, but just sufficiently so to permit of one seeing
something of the teeth and tongue inside.
Fascinated apparently by the sight, a mite of a blue-bird with a golden
head sat on the edge of the hammock close to the little mouth, and
looked in. Evidently it was a bird of an inquiring disposition, for,
having gazed for a considerable time with one eye, it turned its head,
and gazed a longer time with the other. Quashy lay close to Lawrence,
with his back towards him. The latter, observing that the cheek of the
former was more lumpy and prominent than usual, raised himself on one
elbow to look at him, and found that the lump was the result of an
expansion of the mouth from ear to ear. He was wide awake, gloating
over the proceedings of that little blue-bird, but he heard Lawrence
move, and turning his head slightly round, whispered--
"Dat am berry funny--i'n't it?"
The whisper slightly roused Manuela. She drew a long breath, vented a
deep sigh, and effectually blew the blue-bird away.
At the same moment the whole party was roused by a wild and
indescribable scream, followed by a magnificent flash of what seemed to
be coloured fire.
In his half-sleeping condition, Lawrence, believing it to be the
war-whoop of wild Indians, leaped up and grasped his cudgel, but nothing
was to be seen save the grinning face of Quashy and the amused looks of
Manuela and Pedro.
"Purrits," remarked the negro, by way of explanation.
"What do you mean by purrits?" demanded Lawrence, half ashamed of his
alarm.
"I mean what I says, massa,--purrits."
"He means parrots," said Pedro, with a grave smile, as he rose, and
proceeded to fold up the poncho on which he had lain. "We've had many a
song from these screamers, but I don't remember ever seeing such a big
flock come so near us, or scream so loud, before. They must have been
attracted by your pretty face, Manuela, and could not help shouting with
surprise at finding you asleep."
Manuela laughed lightly as she stepped out of her hammock.
"They've just roused us in good time," continued Pedro, looking up
between the tree-tops at the sky, "for the hut of the tiger-hunter is a
long way off, and I'm anxious to reach it before dark."
In a few minutes the hammock and other camp equipage was conveyed to one
of the native canoes, which lay close to the river's bank, our
travellers embarked, and ere long were far from the spot where the
siesta had been taken.
In the afternoon they stopped for a little to refresh themselves with
roasted parrot, chocolate, and biscuit.
Parrots are found everywhere and in great numbers in those regions
between the Atlantic and Pacific. They live and travel in large flocks,
and, as every one knows, they are remarkably fond of using their
discordant voices, much to the annoyance of sensitive travellers.
Fortunately such travellers do not often go to the wild regions of South
America,--when they do, they soon become un-sensitive. When parrots
assemble in a flock on the trees, they keep fluttering their wings with
a tremulous motion, bending down their heads and chattering, young and
old, without regard to each other or to harmony. Each seems bent on
giving his own opinion in the loudest key, and pays no regard whatever
to the opinions of others. There is something almost human in this!
It is a curious fact that, while the plumage of the parrots' breasts is
always gaudy and brilliant in the extreme, that of their backs is
usually the colour of the general tone of the region they inhabit. In
woods, where the bark of trees is chiefly bright yellow and green, their
backs are of these colours. In the plains they are a mixture of green
and brown, so that when skimming over a country they are not easily
distinguished, but if they chance to come unexpectedly on travellers,
they sheer off with a shriek, and expose their gaudy breasts to view.
The large flock that had so suddenly come on our friends while taking
their siesta had turned off thus with a horrible scream, and revealed
their gay breasts, on which the sun chanced to shine at the moment with
great power, thus producing, as we have said, a splendid flash of
colour.
"Massa," inquired Quashy, as they sat in the canoe enjoying the cold
meal and floating slowly with the stream, "which you likes best,--ros'
purrit or ros' monkey?"
"Really, I'm not quite sure," replied Lawrence; "it depends very much on
appetite. If I'm very hungry, I prefer the one that comes first to
hand. Which do _you_ like best?"
"Well, I's not kite sure needer. I t'ink sometimes dat monkey is best,
but I can't easy git ober de face."
"How so, Quashy?"
"'Cause it am so like eatin' a bit o' my great-gran'moder."
"Indeed!"
"Yes. You's no notion how like dey all is to dat ole lady. You see,
she was uncommon old. She come ob a long-lib race. Das whar' it is.
My moder was eighty-two, an' my gran'moder was ninety-siven, an' my
great-gran'moder was a hun'r'd an' sixteen, an' dey was all alive
togidder, an' at fuss you couldn' tell which was de oldest. Dey run
neck an' neck for a long time, but arter de great-gran' one pass de
hunr' milestone--oh! she hoed ahead like a rattlesnake. De wrinkles an'
de crows' foots, an' de--de colour--jes' like bu'nt leather! She lef'
de oders far behind, an' looked like nuffin so much as dat poor little
blear-eyed monkey you shot de oder day, what Senhorina Manuela say was
_so_ nice to eat. What! you un'erstan' Ingliss?" added the negro,
looking at the Indian girl, who had given vent to a half-suppressed
giggle.
"Yes--leetil," replied Manuela, without attempting further to restrain
her mirth.
Quite pleased that his remarks should afford amusement, Quashy was about
to launch out extensively on the "great-gran'moder" theme, when an
exclamation from the guide checked him.
"Look, Senhor Armstrong," he said, arresting the progress of the canoe
by a slight turn of his paddle. "Yonder is a mode of fishing which no
doubt is new to you."
Pedro pointed as he spoke to a canoe which a sharp bend of the stream
had just revealed to them. Its occupants were Indians. They were
almost naked, and so intent on their occupation that the arrival of our
travellers had not been observed. One of the Indians, a splendid
specimen of muscular strength, stood up in the canoe with a bow and
arrow in his hands and one foot on the gunwale, quite motionless.
Suddenly he drew the bow, the arrow pierced the water without causing a
ripple, and next moment a transfixed fish was struggling on the surface.
The fish was barely secured when the presence of strangers was
discovered. An exclamation followed. Instantly the dark savage bent
his bow, with the arrow pointed this time full at the breast of Pedro.
That worthy did not, however, seem much alarmed. He at once pushed out
into the stream, and gave a shout which induced the savage not only to
lower his bow, but to fling it into his canoe and throw up his arms with
exclamations of surprise and joy.
"He knows you?" said Lawrence, looking back at Pedro, who sat in the
stern of their canoe.
"Yes, he knows me. I am pretty well-known to most people in these
regions. This is the tiger-hunter of whom I have spoken. His dwelling
is not far-off."
The meeting of the two friends was remarkably cordial, and it was
evident to both Lawrence and Quashy that the white man and the brown
were not only old friends, but more than usually fond of each other.
After the first salutations, both canoes were run to the bank of the
stream, and when they had all landed, Pedro presented his friend to
Lawrence, who shook hands with him in the English fashion.
"You have not mentioned your friend's name," said Lawrence.
"His name!" replied Pedro, with a laugh, "well, it is almost
unpronounceable. Perhaps you had better call him by the name he goes by
among his friends--Spotted Tiger, or, more briefly--Tiger."
"Tell Spotted Tiger, then," said Lawrence, "that I am happy to make his
acquaintance."
When the guide had translated this, and the Indian had returned a
complimentary rejoinder, they continued to converse in the Indian tongue
with much animation, and, on the part of Spotted Tiger, with some
excitement. Of course Lawrence understood nothing, but he continued to
watch the expressive features of the savage with interest, and observed,
when their glances showed they were talking of Manuela, that Tiger first
raised his eyebrows in surprise, and then smiled peculiarly.
"Strange," thought Lawrence, "what can he mean by that? Perhaps he
knows the chief, her father, but why look surprised and smile on that
account? I wish Pedro was not so secretive. However, it's his
business, not mine!"
Consoling himself with this philosophic thought, Lawrence re-embarked
with his friends, and, accompanied by Tiger, proceeded down stream till
they came to a beautiful spot where the banks widened out into a small
lake or pond. On its shores, under the cool shade of many trees, stood
the hut of the savage.
The scenery here was more than usually beautiful, being diversified not
only in form, but in its wealth and variety of trees, and twining
parasites and graceful ferns, with, in one place, groves of tall trees
covered with balls of wild cotton, as large as an orange, and,
elsewhere, inextricable entanglements of gorgeously flowering creepers,
such as the most vivid imagination would fail to invent or conceive.
Behind one part of the scene the setting sun shone with intense light,
turning all into dark forms, while in other parts the slanting rays fell
upon masses of rich foliage, and intensified its colour.
In front of the hut a handsome Indian woman stood awaiting the arrival
of her husband. She held in her arms a naked little ball of
whitey-brown fat, which represented the youngest Tiger-cub of the
family. Other cubs, less whitey, and more brown, romped around,
while up in the trees several remembrancers of Quashy's
great-great-grandmother sat grinning with delight, if not indignation,
at the human beings below.
After being hospitably entertained by the Indian with fish, alligator
soup, roast parrot, and young monkey, the party assembled round a fire,
kindled outside the hut more for the purpose of scaring away wild beasts
than cooking, though the little Tiger-cubs used it for the latter
purpose.