Terrible Cries of Savages
"Oh, why did we have to wander so far away!" moaned Joe, rapidly
losing his nerve. "We should have known better than to try to
penetrate this endless jungle."
Bob was equally touched, but he resolved to keep up hope. There was no
use in tamely submitting to fear so soon. One more search might bring
them to the river, and then it would be easy to find the boats.
"We'll come out all right," he said, "although I'll admit we're in a
tight fix."
The youths rested for nearly a half-hour. Then their strength--and to
some extent their hope--restored, they again took up the task of
finding the right trail.
Back and forth they hiked, confident that at last they would happen
upon it. But search as they did, their efforts were in vain. The
cruel Brazilian jungle was not to be conquered by man.
At last, satisfied that nothing could be gained by continuing such
efforts, Joe moved that they take one of the other trails in the hope
that it would lead them to the river.
"All right," said Bob. "No use trying to find the one we followed when
running from the jaguar."
Joe had reloaded his rifle, and Bob had placed his hunting knife ready
for instant use. They were taking no chances on meeting some
formidable jungle beast.
The path that they now followed was wider than the others and
consequently was more likely to lead to some definite spot. But
neither of the chums was sure that they were heading for the river. It
might lead them fifty miles away, for all they knew. Still they hiked
on.
"Do you know," remarked Bob, when another hour had passed, "that I'm
beginning to think that these trails were not cut by wild animals!
They're too closely defined. Now take this one, for example. See how
wide it is? And look over there. The vegetation's been _cut_ by a
machete."
Joe grew suddenly pale. He clutched his rifle tighter.
"You mean--savages?" he demanded, at the same time looking sharply
about.
"I may be wrong," Bob said quietly, "but that is my opinion. And as
we're about in the region inhabited by the savage tribe that Professor
Bigelow was searching for, it seems that these paths could have been
cut by them. What do you think?"
"I'm all too afraid that you're right," was the reply. "And we'll have
to be very careful from now on. At the slightest unfamiliar sound
we'll have to hide."
Bob groaned.
"If I only had my rifle," he cried. "Or if I had brought my revolver
it wouldn't be quite as bad."
But there was no use regretting something that could not be helped,
and Bob and Joe resolved to meet conditions as they were. Perhaps if
it should happen that Indians discovered them, it would be best not to
use their weapons except in self-defense. If the natives' good will
could be gained, it would not only help them but be of benefit to
Professor Bigelow also.
All the remainder of that afternoon the youths tramped on up the
trail, hoping to burst at last upon the river. They were tired and
downhearted when finally they stopped by a small spring of cool water.
Experience had taught them that in the great majority of cases these
jungle springs were ideal drinking places and that only a very few
were poisoned. So they drank freely of the refreshing liquid and felt
much better for it.
"Better stop here for the night, hadn't we?" asked Bob, taking in the
surrounding country.
"Yes," his friend replied. "There's a good place to sleep," pointing
to a large hollow in the ground.
A little later darkness fell suddenly, and with it came the usual
chill of the atmosphere. Joe had some matches in a small waterproof
box, and he took them out and ignited the dry branches of an uprooted
tree. The fire blazed lively up into the black reaches of the jungle,
giving off heat that was welcomed by the two chums as they sat close
together.
Before retiring, they took account of their weapons and ammunition.
Joe's rifle was the only firearm in their possession, but both boys
had a large supply of cartridges that should last a long time. With
cautious use they might make them satisfy their needs for several
days. But after that? Still there was no use worrying about the
future. They could let it take care of itself. At present they were
safe.
"I'll take the first guard," said Bob, half an hour later. "You turn
in and get several hours' sleep. I'll call you when the night's half
over."
Joe grudgingly consented. He had intended to stand watch first.
Bob heaped the fire up high and had a good supply of fuel ready to
keep it blazing constantly.
But when ten minutes had passed he smothered it down to half the size
it had been. It was not wise to keep it too high, for though it was a
sure protection from wild animals, it might attract the attention of
hostile Indians.
"Have to prevent that at any cost," the young man thought.
Bob sat moodily fingering his rifle, gazing into the dark depths of
the jungle. From afar came a terrorizing howl of some beast that had
fallen victim of a stronger enemy. Shortly later there came another
howl of different origin. Then another, another, until the whole
jungle rang with fiendish cries.
It was enough to frighten anyone, and Bob stared rather fearfully
into the surrounding forest, wondering what tragedies were going on at
that moment.
"Probably scores of creatures being killed," he thought, shifting
uneasily.
Nothing happened throughout his watch, and he at last moved over and
tapped Joe on the back. The latter jumped to his feet as if shot, and
gazed fearfully about, as if expecting to see a band of cannibals rush
in on them. But a moment later he smiled sheepishly.
"Guess I was dreaming," he said, taking his position on a log.
Bob readily sympathized with his chum, for the day had been a
strenuous one, and their endurance had been taxed severely.
"We'll surely find a way out tomorrow," Bob said, curling up in the
hollow.
"Hope so," was the reply.
Joe's watch was also devoid of incident, and late the next morning he
called the other youth from his slumber.
They were obliged to begin the day without any breakfast, although
they were extremely hungry. They could have shot some small animal,
but Bob thought it wise to wait until noon.
"By that time," he said hopefully, "maybe we'll have found the
river--or something else."
They followed the same trail until Joe stopped and looked about.
"We're not getting any place as things are," he said. "Seems to me the
river should be over in that direction."
"I think so too," agreed Bob. "There should be plenty of branch paths
that would take us over there."
They found one before another five minutes had passed, and turned onto
its narrow surface.
"The world's greatest jungle," mused Bob, shaking his head.
"Sure is a whopper," the other agreed. "Wonderful. I had no idea it
would have such a wide variety of plants, and that it could be so
dense."
All that morning the boys spent in vainly searching for the river. The
trail that they had turned onto continued, but where it would lead to
they did not know. It might have gradually circled several miles out
of the way.
During that desperate search the chums saw a large number of all types
of wild animals, although none happened to be dangerous. Monkeys
crowded thickly down to the lowest boughs, small gnawing creatures
darted across the path, brightly colored birds flew swiftly overhead.
Occasionally the boys could get a glimpse of a snake slinking through
the underbrush. It was a wonderful menagerie and could have been
enjoyed to the full had they not been in such a terrible plight.
"Do you know," remarked Bob, his eyes on a small creature, "I believe
these animals are used to seeing people."
Joe looked around inquiringly.
"Now take that small furred creature that just passed," Bob continued.
"Did you notice how wary it seemed? One glance at us was enough to
send it running back at full speed. They never did that before. Now
here's what I think: we're in a country inhabited either by rubber
gatherers or Indians. Why rubber gatherers would be so far from
civilization I don't know, unless----"
"I don't think they would be," interrupted Joe. "We didn't come across
any boat that they might have come in. And of course they wouldn't
have come all these hundreds of miles by land."
"Then it's Indians. Savages, cannibals, maybe, for all we know. It's
their bows and arrows that have scared these wild animals out of
their wits."
The youths knew not what to make of the situation. There could easily
be Indians in this region, for Professor Bigelow was almost sure they
were near the strange savage tribe that Otari told about. But how the
natives would treat these two lone whites was a mystery. If there
should be a battle the youths knew that their rifle could be relied
upon only as long as the supply of cartridges lasted. Then they would
be compelled to surrender.
"I have a plan," stated Joe, several minutes later. "If anything
should happen that we are discovered by savages, it might be best to
act extremely exhausted, as if we couldn't stand up a minute longer.
We could even fall in our tracks before they quite get sight of us.
The chances are they would sympathize with us and take us into their
village."
"Then what?"
"We could gain their friendship and have them lead us to the river."
"Fine!" cried Bob Holton, his hope renewed. "Takes you to think of
some plan to get us out of danger. Most likely we could carry it out,
for these savages are only grown children when it comes to catching
on to anything unusual. But we'd have to be very careful and keep a
close watch for any treachery."
Along toward noon the youths began to look for game. They were by now
furiously hungry and felt as if they could devour almost any creature
that would fall at the report of their rifle.
They did not have to wait long before a large duck-like bird flew over
and perched on a tree bough, not twenty feet away. Joe handed his
rifle to his chum.
"Take a shot at it," urged Joe. "We may not see another chance as
good."
Bob aimed carefully and fired just as the bird prepared to take
flight. A moment later feathers flew and the creature fluttered to the
ground.
"Hurrah!" cried Joe. "Now we eat!"
A fire was built of dead wood in the vicinity, and the young hunters'
quarry was placed over the flames to bake. Before long a delicious
odor filled the clearing, and the youths prepared a feast fit for a
king.
"Roast duck! Think of that!" cried Joe.
The bird tasted good, despite the fact that it was rather tough. Bob
and Joe ate heartily, until only a small portion was left. Then they
stretched themselves on the soft grass for a short rest.
"I feel like getting some sleep," remarked Joe. "But of course----"
He stopped suddenly and strained his ears to listen.
Bob looked inquiringly but remained quiet.
A moment later there came a long, weird chant that cut through the
thin jungle air with remarkable clearness. It was repeated several
times, always nearer. Never before had the youths heard anything like
it, and they were intensely bewildered.
Bob looked inquiringly at his friend, but the latter could give no
explanation.
"Beyond me," he muttered.
Again the cry came, and then the boys jumped to their feet in horror.
"Savages!" cried Bob excitedly. "Indians--wild Indians. They're coming
this way!"