A DECK CHASE
By nightfall they had wormed their way out of the Narrows and came at
last to the main stream of the Amazon River. Hal had his first glimpse
of it shortly after evening coffee when he strolled out on deck alone.
His uncle preferred reading a long-neglected book in the cabin until
bedtime.
Hal stood with his elbows resting on the polished rail and placidly
puffed a cigarette. The setting sun in all its glory was imprisoned
behind a mass of feathery clouds and reflected in the dark yellow water
surging under the steamer’s bow.
The day had been a pleasant one and Hal had been untroubled by the
morning’s haunting doubts. Señor Goncalves was proving to be more and
more a thoroughly good fellow and pleasant shipmate. There was nothing
to worry about and, had it not been for the singular disappearance of
his uncle’s letter, all would be well.
But he tried not to let that disturb his placidity, and fixed his dreamy
glance on the dense, low-lying forest stretching along the river bank in
an unbroken wall of trees. Being at the end of the rainy season, the
jungle seemed more than ever impenetrable because of the water covering
the roots and creeping far up the trunks of the trees.
A monkey swung high in the bough of a distant tree, a few macaws and
parrots hovered near by seeking a perch for the night. Then the fleecy
clouds faded into the deep turquoise heavens and the shadows of night
stole out from the jungle and crept on over the surging Amazon.
The formidable shriek of a jaguar floated down on the breeze, leaving a
curious metallic echo in its wake. When that had died away Hal was
conscious of a melancholy solitude enveloping the steamer. Not a soul
but himself occupied that end of the deck; everyone else seemed to be in
the saloon, playing cards and smoking.
He yawned sleepily and sought the seclusion of a deck chair that stood
back in the shadow of a funnel. He would have a smoke or two, then go in
and join his uncle with a book.
He had no sooner settled himself, however, than he heard the soft swish
of a footstep coming up the stair. It struck him at once as not being
that of a seaman’s sturdy, honest tread. It sounded too cautious and
secretive, and though he was curious as to who it might be, he was too
lazy to stir in his comfortable chair and find out. But when the
footstep sounded on the last step and pattered upon the deck in a soft,
shiftless tread, Hal was suddenly aroused.
He leaned forward in the chair and got a flashing glimpse of Pizella’s
face as he disappeared around the bow toward port side.
Hal was on his feet and stole cautiously after him. He was certain that
the man hadn’t seen him, yet, when he got around on the deck, the fellow
was almost aft. It was then that he turned for a moment and, after
looking back, darted about to the other side again.
Hal chased him in earnest then, leaping along in great strides until he
came back to where he had started. Pizella was not to be seen, however,
neither down the stairway nor anywhere about the upper deck, which the
irate young man circled again.
After a futile search, Hal strolled past the saloon. Señor Goncalves was
one of the many passengers in there making merry and contributing his
share to the sprightly entertainment. In point of fact, the dapper
Brazilian was the proverbial “life of the party” and his soft, purring
voice preceded several outbursts of laughter.
Hal went on and he had no sooner got out of earshot of the merrymakers
when he heard a door close up forward. Even as he looked, he recognized
Pizella’s small figure going toward the stairway. He knew it was the
half-caste; that time he could have sworn to it, yet....