A PERILOUS PREDICAMENT.
Not having had guavas sufficient for anything more than the lightest kind
of a light lunch, the shipwrecked youth searched among the shells for
oysters. It was a laborious way of earning a dinner, since the monkeys
had cleaned out the meats pretty thoroughly, and an hour’s hard work did
not reward him with more than a dozen of the tiny bivalves.
His hunger was so great that he would have continued this almost futile
search longer, but for the fact that the sun was sending an intense
heat down upon the exposed beach, and already had he begun to feel the
greatest inconvenience, and even pain. Prostration, if nothing worse,
would most surely follow, unless he beat a speedy retreat.
To regain the shelter of the woods was absolutely necessary despite the
desire for food; but before doing so Philip believed it of the highest
importance that he should contrive some signal which might possibly
attract the attention of those on board passing vessels.
The means for doing such work were limited, yet he did succeed in raising
what might, perhaps, be seen half a mile away, although knowing full
well that no trading-vessels would venture so near the inhospitable
coast.
Cutting the straightest and tallest stick of bamboo which could be found
within a distance of a hundred yards, he stripped it of the leaves, and
to the top fastened one of the two white handkerchiefs he had about him
at the time of the shipwreck. This feeble attempt at a signal was planted
firmly in the sand, and by the expenditure of considerable labor he
heaped around the base a huge quantity of shells.
As far up and down the shore as the eye could reach a line of reef
extended fully a quarter of a mile into the sea, and it was with a
feeling of despondency that he looked at the fruits of his labor, knowing
there was but little chance the fluttering cloth could bring any one to
his relief.
To continue the journey around the coast would be to expose himself
to the direct rays of the sun, and inasmuch as the reef precluded the
possibility of a settlement in the vicinity, Philip determined to make
his way directly across the island.
To that end he went straight into the underbrush toward the south,
keeping careful watch on every hand lest he should be surprised by any
of his former monkey acquaintances, and at the expiration of an hour was
clambering up the side of a rocky elevation.
Of course it would have been possible to travel around the base of this
hill, but the hope that from the summit he might obtain a good view of
the odd land on which he had been thrown caused him to court rather than
avoid labor.
While making his way through the trees, pausing now and then to brush
away the insects which rendered every movement so painful, he saw
descending from a palm what he mistook for a flying-squirrel. With but
little hope that he could succeed in capturing this tiny game, which
would make a tempting lunch for one in his half-famished condition, he
darted forward.
There was no difficulty in catching the supposed squirrel, for it proved
to be anything rather than active in its movements, and as Philip’s
fingers clutched the body he found to his surprise that he had seized a
huge frog whose deep green skin looked, in the dim light, so much like
fur.
Naturalist though he was, Philip had never before seen such a specimen as
this. The toes were very long and webbed at their extremities, so that
upon being expanded they presented a surface much larger than the body.
The fore-legs were also bordered by a membrane, and it was evident the
frog was inflated during the leap, for he shrank to one-half his previous
size immediately the hunter grasped him.
There could be no mistake but that this was the veritable flying-frog of
the Malay Archipelago, and Philip examined it with great interest. The
back and legs were of a deep green, while the under-surface was yellow,
as were also the webs of the feet, each of which covered a surface of
about four square inches. The extremities of the toes were formed
similar to those of a tree-frog, and it is probable the membrane was
intended to be used as often for swimming as for flying.
It was not a particularly dainty morsel of food, however, and after
satisfying his curiosity concerning it Philip set the little fellow at
liberty, he continuing on up the difficult ascent.
He expended his strength uselessly in climbing the hill, however, for
when the highest point of the elevation had been gained it was not
possible to see anything above the surrounding trees. His fatigue and
disappointment might have caused him to give way in despair if, just at
the moment when his mental troubles were greatest, he had not observed
a small animal, evidently some species of deer, about two hundred yards
away.
The desire for food now outweighed all other considerations, and he crept
forward among the scanty foliage with his revolver in hand, hoping a
chance shot might supply him with a dinner.
When it was no longer possible to approach without danger of being seen,
he took careful aim over the top of a bowlder and discharged two barrels
of his weapon in rapid succession.
The deer sprang into the air and then staggered forward; but instead of
falling, as the hunter so ardently desired, he started down the sharp
descent on the south side of the hill.
Philip forgot his fatigue and pursued, taking a course at right-angles
with the one made by the animal, in order to intercept him at the point
of bushes which was evidently his destination.
With his eye fixed on the deer, noting not the nature of the ground over
which he traveled, Philip rushed forward, gaining rapidly on his prey. At
the objective point of foliage the animal halted for an instant, and the
hunter bent every energy toward increasing his speed.
When his pursuer was hardly three yards away the deer disappeared, and
thinking he had merely taken refuge behind the bushes, Philip darted
around the other side, only to stop suddenly as he saw a chasm yawning
before him.
He attempted to check himself so suddenly that a small stone was loosened
under his foot, throwing him forward with still greater impetus, and it
became impossible to regain a foot-hold.
At the very edge of the precipice he clutched wildly at what seemed to
be a bush, as he was literally hurled among the branches. This slight
support gave way beneath his weight, and he dropped his revolver to seize
with both hands the trunk of the bush.
Down, down he went, seemingly a great distance, but still holding on
for dear life; and then the foliage swung upward again in the rebound,
carrying him with it, as a matter of course.
Hanging like an apple on a limb, he swayed to and fro, up and down, until
the trunk upon which his very life depended had settled into nearly a
stationary position.
Now it could be seen that he had dropped hardly more than twenty
feet from the brow of the cliff; but this was not exactly cheering
information, for he was hanging over a sheer descent of thirty or forty
yards. That which he had mistaken for a bush was simply the upper portion
of a reasonably large tree which grew on a shelf of the rock ten or
twelve feet below the crest of the ledge.
He was grasping the trunk within three or four feet of the very top, and
his weight made a tremendous strain upon the root. The wood was tough,
however, and fortunately for him he bent so far from the cliff as to be
suspended almost at right-angles with it.
These points were noted with the quickness of thought at the same time
that a plan for saving himself came like a flash of light into his mind.
Before the strain on his arms should grow too great he determined to pull
himself along the trunk like an acrobat on a horizontal bar. He could not
do this, however, without causing the tree to sway violently again, and
it became necessary to throw one leg over the yielding wood, where he
hung in imminent danger not only of slipping off, but of being carried
down the precipice together with that which he clutched so desperately,
for it was only a question of time before the roots would be torn from
their slight hold.
Therefore it became essential that the attempt at escape should be made
in another direction.
Carefully letting himself down until he was once more in the first
position, he worked his way, with every muscle strained to its utmost
tension, hand over hand toward the roots, impeded by twigs and branches
until the task seemed well-nigh impossible.
Each inch gained in this direction caused the tree to resume more
nearly its original position, until when he was a little more than half
way toward the base the trunk stood upright, and by dropping down he
succeeded in reaching the narrow ledge, from which to gain the top of the
cliff was a reasonably easy task.
When Philip was once more in a place of safety it became necessary to
rest his weary limbs before going in search of the game that had so
nearly cost him his life. Lying prone upon the earth for fifteen minutes
was sufficient to give him the required strength, and then he began to
search for a practicable path to the foot of the precipice.
A detour of a quarter of a mile was sufficient to take him from the edge
of the cliff to the rocky side of the hill, down which it was possible to
make his way without any great difficulty.
Despite the pangs of hunger his first care was the revolver, and he
followed up the narrow ravine or gully, which was thickly overgrown with
shrubs, until he stood directly beneath the tree which had saved him from
a terrible fall. Here he searched the ground in vain, and was about to
give up the task to find the trail of the deer when glancing, by chance,
along the side of the cliff, he saw the weapon lodged in the branches of
a stout sapling, while not more than thirty feet distant was an immense
panther standing over the mangled carcass of the game.
Surely he was between the horns of a dilemma now. Both his revolver and
the postponed dinner were so near the ferocious animal that it would be
as dangerous to make any attempt at getting one as the other, and during
several moments he stood undecided, knowing that the first step taken in
retreat would bring the beast upon him.
A youth less versed in the habits of wild animals than Philip Garland
might unwittingly have brought on an encounter to which there could be
but one end. He, however, remained motionless, save as he worked his way,
inch by inch, toward a thicket of shrubs without lifting his feet from
the ground.
Even this stealthy retreat was noted by the animal, who began to twitch
its tail as if preparing for a leap, and the shipwrecked youth knew he
could no longer hold the enemy by his gaze nor gain the desired shelter.
There was little opportunity for further preparation. The panther was
already crouching for the spring.
Mentally bracing himself for that which seemed inevitable, he awaited
the supreme moment with but one faint hope in his mind—that it might be
possible to jump aside while the animal was in the air.