"I know all about it," he added; "I saw the puma, but had not time to
cry out."
The Indians had consumed the remainder of the paca; and as there was
still an hour or more of daylight, they proposed going out to catch some
fish. I thought of accompanying them, but I did not like to leave
Arthur. John then said he would go; but when he got down to the water,
the Indians had already shoved off.
"I dare say I may find some game in the woods, and that may be better
for Arthur than fish," he observed, coming back.
We saw the canoe at a little distance, the Indians standing ready, some
with their harpoons and others with their bows, to strike any fish which
might be passing. Now they came nearer to us, and I saw they had struck
several fish. With these they returned to the shore, and called to me
to come and receive them. Tono then made signs that he would go and get
some more, and again they paddled off. I became quite vexed at having
entertained unjust suspicions of them. After they had got to a little
distance, I saw them strike another fish--evidently a large one, by the
time they took to haul it in. Now they went further and further off.
At length I lost sight of them.
John had in the meantime gone into the woods with his gun. He returned,
just as it was growing dusk, with a couple of birds, which he
immediately plucked and prepared for roasting at the fire which I had
made up. Our pot for boiling fish had been left in the canoe. We
could, therefore, only roast a portion of those just caught by the
Indians.
"They ought to be back by this time," observed John, as the shades of
night fell over the river.
"The fish seemed to be plentiful, and probably they have been tempted to
go further off than they proposed," I observed.
Still we waited and waited, and they did not return. John went a little
way along the bank, and shouted loudly; but no answer came to his hail.
At length we hung up our hammocks; and having attended to Arthur, added
fuel to our fire, and placed True at the entrance of our hut to watch,
we lay down to rest. Still, neither John nor I felt much inclined to
sleep.
"I am afraid that Tono and his people, after all, have gone off in the
canoe," I said at last.
"I suspect so too," he answered; "but yet they were behaving so well,
that I did not think they would play us so treacherous a trick."
"We shall soon see, however. I cannot help expecting to hear them
return every moment."
We waited and waited, anxiety keeping us awake. Several times I got up
to give Arthur a little water, which was all he appeared inclined to
take. He was much less feverish than I expected. Towards morning,
however, he began to ramble in his speech, and talked about his mother
and father, and a young sister who had died. "I thought I should find
him," I heard him say. "Oh, that my mother could have lived to have
seen him again! Oh, that I could once more be with him! If he were
here now, I am sure that I should soon get well." These words were said
at intervals, between other less coherent remarks.
Daylight broke before I had closed my eyes. We again looked out, in the
faint hope that the Indians might have landed at some spot near us, and
encamped for the night; but we could nowhere see them. We were at
length convinced that they had made off with our canoe, and deserted us.
Had we been by ourselves, our position would have been bad enough; but
with poor Arthur in his wounded state, requiring immediate help, it was
still worse. The Indians had so long behaved well and faithfully, that
we had not supposed them capable of such conduct, although they had
showed such discontent on the previous day.
"What must we do?" I asked of John.
"We must either build a canoe or a raft, or wait till we can hail some
passing craft, and get taken off," he answered. "Our father will
certainly send and look for us by-and-by, when he finds that we do not
return; but in the meantime they will all be very anxious, and think
that we have been cut off by the rebels."
John and I had fortunately brought our guns and ammunition; so that we
were better off than we might have been had the Indians overpowered us,
and put us on shore by force. We were, indeed, able to supply ourselves
amply with food, but it was not well suited for Arthur. By the end of
the day he appeared to have grown worse instead of better. I sat up
with him part of the night, forgetting how little sleep I had had for
some time. He rambled more than ever. It was painful sometimes to hear
him. When he at last dropped to sleep, I began to doze also, till I
slipped off my seat, and lay utterly overcome with fatigue on the
ground. It was daylight, and I found John lifting me up. I had never
seen him look so anxious.
"I thought you had swooned, Harry," he said; "and poor Arthur seems no
better. What can we do for him?"
I looked at Arthur. He was in a troubled sleep, was very pale, and
uttering incoherent expressions. I would have given anything to have
known what to do; but except moistening his lips with water, there was
nothing I could think of likely to benefit him. All day long he
remained in that state. I sat by his side, while John occasionally went
out with his gun. He was never long absent, as he said he could not
bear the thought of being away from Arthur, fearing he might be worse.
Now and then I got up and added fresh fuel to our fire, that I might
make some broth with some of the game John had brought in; thinking that
might possibly do good to my poor patient. I was thus employed, when I
heard John shout out. Taking a glance at Arthur, I ran forward, when I
caught sight of John near the bank, waving his hat, while just beyond
him was a montaria, with a number of people in her, among whom I
distinguished the tall figure of the recluse standing up and waving in
return. The canoe approached the bank just as I reached it; and
directly afterwards two other persons jumped up and waved to us, while a
dog put his paws on the gunwale and uttered a loud bark. True, who had
followed me, barked in return. What was my joy to recognise my two old
school-fellows Houlston and Tony. In a couple of minutes they were on
shore, and we were warmly shaking hands; while True and Faithful were
rubbing noses with equal cordiality.
"Where is my boy?" exclaimed the recluse--or rather Mr Mallet, for so I
should properly call him.
"He is with us. He has been sadly hurt. If any one can do him good, I
am sure you can, sir," I said.
"Oh, take me to him--show me where he is!" exclaimed Mr Mallet, in an
anxious tone. "Hand me out that box there! It contains the few
medicines I possess--it may be of use."
"Is it Arthur Mallet he is speaking of?" asked Houlston, following with
the chest. "What is the matter with him?"
I told him briefly what had occurred. There were several other persons
in the canoe, but I was too much interested in my friends to observe
them. We hurried back to the hut where Arthur was lying. The recluse
had hastened on before us, and was now kneeling by the side of his young
son. He was perfectly calm, but I saw how much he felt, by the
expression of his anxious countenance. Arthur opened his eyes and
recognised his father.
"This is what I was praying for," he whispered. "I have been very ill,
and was afraid of leaving the world without once again seeing you. I am
so thankful. If it is God's will, I am now ready to die."
"Oh, but I pray it may not be his will, my boy," said Mr Mallet. "You
must live for my sake, to be a comfort and support to me."
"You will not go back, then, and live in the woods by yourself, my dear
father?" said Arthur.
"No; I hope to live wherever you do, my boy," he answered.
Arthur's pale countenance brightened, and he pressed his father's hand.
"You must not talk, however, Arthur," said Mr Mallet. "You require
rest, and I may find some remedies which may benefit you."
He eagerly looked over the contents of his medicine-chest; and desiring
to have some fresh-water brought him, he quickly compounded a draught,
which he gave to Arthur. We left the father and son together, while we
returned to the canoe. On our way Houlston and Tony recounted to me
briefly what had occurred. They had made their way nearly up to the
mouth of the Napo, when, not finding us, they had determined to visit
every spot on the shore where we were likely to have stopped. They had
at length put into the creek, near the abode of the recluse.
"Much to our surprise," said Houlston, "we were accosted in English by a
tall white man. On telling him our errand, he informed us that you had
long since gone down the stream, and seemed very much surprised and
grieved to find that we had not encountered you. He at once volunteered
to accompany us, saying that he was greatly interested in your welfare,
and could not rest satisfied without assisting in our search for you.
We were, of course, very glad to have his company; and going back to his
hut, he soon returned with two Indians--a man and his wife--who also
wished to come with us. They are there," and Houlston pointed to the
canoe.
Just then one of the Indians landed; and though dressed in a shirt and
trousers, I recognised him as our friend Maono. He was followed by
Illora, also habited in more civilised costume than when we had at first
seen her. They greeted me kindly, and inquired, with more warmth than
Indians generally exhibit, for their son and daughter. I assured them
of their welfare, and of the esteem in which they were held by my
family. They appeared to be gratified, and then inquired for the
Indians who had accompanied us. Maono was excessively indignant when we
told him of the trick they had played us, and threatened to put them to
death when he got back to his people. We entreated him, however, for
our sakes, not to punish them so severely; indeed, we told him we would
rather he pardoned them altogether, as they had been influenced by a
desire to return to their people, and perhaps supposed that we might
prevent them from so doing. They had till that moment been faithful and
obedient, and we assured him that we had had no cause to complain of
them.
Some time was spent in talking to Tony and Houlston. On our return to
the hut we found Mr Mallet standing in front of it. He said Arthur was
improving, but begged that we would remain where we were, as he was
unwilling to move him at present. We of course willingly agreed to do
what he wished, and forthwith set to work to put up huts for the time we
might have to remain on the island. We gave up our hut to Mr Mallet
and Arthur, and made a large fire in front of it, while we had another,
at which we cooked our suppers. Not for a moment, I believe, did the
recluse close his eyes during that night, though most of our party slept
soundly. Whenever I awoke I saw him moving to and fro. Once I could
not help getting out of my hammock and asking him whether Arthur was
improving. "I trust he may be," was the answer. "I shall know
to-morrow."
In the morning Arthur certainly appeared better, his wounds having been
dressed by the skilful hands of his father. Arthur's state, however,
was still too precarious to allow of his removal without risk. Anxious
as we were to get back to our friends, we remained, therefore, three
days longer on the island. Occasionally John, Houlston, Tony, and I
made excursions to the mainland, finding it inhabited, to shoot; while
Maono and Illora were very successful in their fishing expeditions.
"Oh, I wish Arthur was well!" exclaimed Tony. "This is just the sort of
fun we were looking forward to; and I say, Harry, I hope it is only the
beginning of our adventures. Our employers, I know, will very gladly
send us up the river to purchase produce, and I dare say you can make
arrangements to come with us."
I of course said I should be very glad to do so, though I could not then
say what my father intended to do after reaching Para.
We shot a good deal of game--quadruped, four-handed, and feathered.
Among the latter, by-the-by, was a curious bird, which we found feeding
on the marshy banks of a lake, to which we made our way, attracted by
its loud and peculiar cry. Creeping on, we caught sight of it as it
stood on the shore. Houlston, who first saw it, declared that it was a
large crane. It was about the size of a swan, and getting nearer, I saw
that it had an extraordinary horn on the top of its head, surrounded by
black and white feathers, while the upper part of its wings had two
sharp horns projecting from them--formidable weapons of attack or
defence. Houlston fired, but missed. He had not improved as a
sportsman since we parted. John at that moment came up, and sent a ball
into the bird's neck. On this True and Faithful dashed forward, but
still the bird, though unable to run, showed fight with its wings and
kept them at bay. It soon, however, sunk down lifeless on the ground.
Its plumage was very handsome. The head and neck were of a
greenish-brown colour, covered with soft feathers. The breast and
thighs were of silvery white, and the back was black, with the exception
of the upper part, which was brown, with yellow spots. It was, we
found, the anhima of the Brazils, known also as the horned kamichi, or,
more learnedly, _Palamedea_. It is sometimes called the horned
screamer, from its loud and wild cry. We laughingly told Houlston that,
as he had missed it, he should have the honour of carrying it; which he
very good-naturedly did, though it was a considerable load to bear
through the forest.