Lost in the Wilds of Brazil
The largest snake of Brazil was about to strike and enfold the youths
in its terrible coils. And that could mean but one thing--death in an
awful form.
Slowly Bob and Joe raised their rifles and took careful aim at the
horrible head. They must not miss. Here, if ever, was a need for
accurate shooting.
There came another hiss, and the reptile glided still closer, its
wicked eyes gleaming in the sunlight. It was moving stealthily, as if
wondering which of the boys to make for.
"Now!" whispered Bob and a second later pulled the trigger.
Bang! Bang! Two rifles spoke, but only one found the mark. It would
have been a difficult task for even an expert marksman to strike that
small swaying head. And Bob and Joe were not expert marksmen,
although the former was much better than the average.
But the bullet had only glanced the top of the head and had done no
real damage. The reptile was only more enraged.
"Run!" cried Joe, as he saw that the anaconda was preparing to strike.
"One more shot," whispered back Bob, again raising his rifle. "I'm
afraid we couldn't get far if we ran."
Again the rifles spoke, and this time, thanks to the young hunters'
courage, both bullets smashed into the head and shattered it. The
great snake thrashed about in its death struggle, the coils describing
circles and curves. At last it quieted down and lay still. For the
first time it had been defeated.
Bob and Joe waited several minutes for any other signs of life, but
none came. They moved up to examine the great body, which lay
stretched out over a radius of fifteen feet.
"Thicker than a man's leg," observed Joe, who was still unsteady from
the terrible encounter.
"An unusually large specimen," commented Bob. "Think of the excitement
our dads would stir up if they could see it."
"They might take it back to the States," said Joe. "Only--I doubt if
it would be much good to them with the head shattered as it is."
The boys spent several more minutes in examining the anaconda. Then,
unwilling to lose precious time, they started on down the decline.
They intended at least to reach the other side before turning back.
"Steep along here," said Joe, as they came to a rocky edge.
"Couldn't fall far," his friend remarked. "The heavy vegetation would
catch you before you'd fallen ten feet. But even then I wouldn't care
to lose my balance and come up against a tree."
The young explorers stumbled on to the bottom and then began the
ascent of the opposite side.
Suddenly they heard a vicious snarl and looked back to see that a
large, powerful jaguar was poised ready to spring. Its wicked eyes
shone like beads as it bared its sharp teeth.
Slowly the youths raised their rifles and took steady aim. Joe was the
first to pull the trigger, and a moment later Bob followed.
A part snarl, part whine came from the beast, and it weaved as if
going to fall. But it righted itself and then again prepared to
spring.
"It's up to you, Bob," murmured Joe in a tone that he tried to keep
steady. "My rifle's empty. Can't get it loaded in time."
Bob frowned.
A second later he raised his gun to fire, but it caught on a sharp
protruding branch and was wrenched from his grasp. With a frightened
glance at the huge cat he turned to run, and Joe was at his heels.
The boys well knew that they had little chance of escape in that dense
jungle, but they resolved to retreat as fast as their legs would carry
them. And the fact that the jaguar was severely wounded gave them
courage to run with all the strength they could muster.
"Good thing you got him in the leg," panted Joe, as they made for a
faintly outlined path not far away. "We wouldn't have had a chance in
the world otherwise."
As Joe said, the boys would have proved no match for the animal's
agility had it not been wounded. Even as it was, they knew that the
great cat was gaining rapidly. In no time it would be upon them.
A few yards down, the path branched into several directions. They
chose the one to the right, for no reason at all. It offered no better
chance of escape than did the others.
"Oh!" groaned Joe, imagining that he could feel the hot breath of the
beast. "We can't keep this up much longer."
The youths refused to lose heart, however, and continued as rapidly as
they could. At several other places the trail branched, and they
followed the widest and most clearly defined. They had no notion of
where they were going. In fact they did not care, as long as they were
outdistancing their terrible enemy.
At last they found it impossible to continue the flight. Their breath
gone completely; their hearts were beating like triphammers.
With a sudden movement Bob wheeled about and brought out his hunting
knife, just as the jaguar prepared to spring. The great cat lunged
forward, bearing the youth to the ground. As he fell, Bob summoned all
his strength and plunged the sharp blade of the knife deep into the
animal's side at a point where he judged it would find the heart. His
aim was true. With one last cough the beast rolled over and lay still.
The knife plus Bob's courage had proven too much for even its brute
strength.
For a time the youth could not speak. At last he managed to blurt out
a few almost unintelligible words to Joe, who had been helpless to
render aid during the death struggle.
Joe sighed and shook his head. "Another narrow escape!" he breathed,
picturing what would have happened had not Bob made use of his hunting
knife.
The boys spent only a short time in examining the great cat, for they
were anxious to get back to the boats at once.
"Let's hurry back to camp," moved Bob, looking at his watch. "We've
been gone several hours. Doesn't seem possible, does it?"
But little did the young hunters dream that they were miles from the
boats and their elders--that they had unknowingly penetrated deeper
and deeper into this dense jungle.
After one last look at the great jaguar, the chums started back down
the trail, heading for the boats. They wondered what kind of a
reception their fathers would give them after being gone so long.
Ten minutes of constant hiking brought them to a spot where the trail
branched into four or five other paths, each winding in a slightly
different direction from the others. Which branch should they take to
get back to camp?
"Strange," mused Joe. "I thought sure we could pick out the right
branch. But you know we didn't have much time for thought when that
jaguar was chasing us."
The youths spent fully ten minutes in trying to decide on which trail
they had turned out, but in the end they were no more enlightened than
they were at the start. They tried to remember some landmark that
might be suggestive but could not. The heavy Amazonian jungle had
proven too much for their memories.
But they refused to admit that they were beaten, and at last chose the
middle trail, as it seemed more like the one they had followed. There
was no use giving up without showing fight. They walked on constantly
and at last came to another place where the path branched. Here again
they were at a loss to know which direction to take.
"Believe it's the one to the left," concluded Joe, scratching his head
thoughtfully.
"I'm sure I don't know," the other said. "But if you think you're
right, we may as well follow it."
They did follow it. One, two, three miles they hiked. But where was
the canyon?
"We're surely on the wrong course," said Bob, glancing at his
pedometer. "Three miles is farther than we went before. And we haven't
come to the spot where I dropped my gun yet. Suppose we go back and
try another trail."
Joe was willing, and they retraced their footsteps, at last coming to
the place where the path branched.
"Suppose we try the one to the right," suggested Joe, and they did.
But when, after a half-hour's tramp, they made no more headway than
before, they saw the futility of continuing on this trail. Again they
went back and took another direction. And again they failed to come to
Bob's rifle. The youths continued the search for several hours, never
ceasing. But each time they met with failure. The cruel Brazilian
forest was not to be conquered by man.
Finally, exhausted and baffled to the extreme, they sat down on a
decaying tree trunk. The stark truth had at last dawned on them. They
were lost--lost in the wilds of Brazil!