ALONE AND WAITING
Hal kept his fire going until the red glare of dawn forced its light
through the jungle mists. Gradually the awful gloom lifted and he was
able to take stock of his surroundings. Swamp, trees with creepers and
clinging vines growing in the spaces between, and high overhead, a flock
of _urubus_ (Amazonian vultures) circled in monotonous precision.
Hal rubbed his heavy-lidded eyes vigorously and shook his disheveled red
hair back into place as best he could. The drone of the whirling
vultures just evident with the advent of dawn already annoyed him. What
would they be if help did not come before another premature twilight had
settled over the forest? He dared not think of it.
He could not bring himself to the thought of a grave for Rodriguez in
the jungle. It seemed to be an admission that there was no hope for
rescue. Yet there were the vultures waiting, waiting....
Mid-morning came and despite the grim presence of death, Hal felt
savagely hungry and thirsty. He had been careful about his cigarettes;
there were six left. He selected one now and though in need of its
soothing reaction, he could not smoke it because of his empty stomach.
And as a gesture of economy he pinched it out and replaced the stub in
the pack.
After a period of inactivity, he suddenly decided to leave his gruesome
charge for a few moments and go visit the scene of the wreck, just for
something to do. It made him feel inexpressibly sad, however, for in
viewing it he saw that two of the surrounding trees had burned
considerably and their charred trunks were sagging in such a way as to
cause the foliage on the upper limbs to lean toward the foliage of the
adjoining trees and thus screen off a good part of the clearing from
above.
There was little left of the plane but the framework, and the crippled
motor was all but buried in the mire. Hal gave it but a hurried glance
and walked back to his little camp, steeped in despair. He couldn’t put
down the thought that Carmichael had not succeeded and that he need not
expect any help from that source.
He would not give in to those imps of discouragement within, but bravely
kept his eyes on that chink of sky shining through the trees. Noon came
and was gone, the vultures had increased in number and Hal saw, with
sinking heart, that they were getting bolder, flying lower and lower.
He gathered a quantity of dead leaves, all the foliage that he could
find in the immediate neighborhood, and made a temporary bier for the
dead airman. In lifting him over into it, he felt something hard and
bulging in the back pocket of his trousers. Hal drew it out and saw to
his joy that it was a thirty-eight calibre revolver and seemed to be
fully loaded.
A further search of the young man’s pockets revealed nothing but some
small change and the usual miscellaneous collection one is apt to find.
Hal sighed with relief when the task was over and carefully put all his
findings into Rodriguez’ helmet.
That done, he sat down and made a careful inspection of the gun. True to
his first hope, there wasn’t a chamber discharged and this discovery
gave Hal pause, for it occurred to him that Rodriguez had had in his
possession a most effectual weapon with which to make good his intention
of bailing out in the parachute. Why then had he not used it?
Hal came to the conclusion that it must have been because Rodriguez’
character was a contradiction. Though he could participate in a
murderous plot, when it came to carrying it out, he thought more of the
effect that it would have on his soul, than he did of his beloved
_Cause_.
“Not a half bad scout at that, poor devil,” Hal summed it up. “How do I
know what my behavior would be under a like condition? I certainly
wouldn’t see innocent people crash to their deaths and keep an easy
conscience.”
Hal pocketed his gun carefully and rambled about the neighborhood the
remainder of the afternoon. Just before the gloom crept into the
clearing he bethought himself of all the fantastic tales he had heard of
the bounty of the Amazon jungle. Most of the stories gave one the
impression that food could be had by reaching out and plucking it from
the fruit-laden trees. Never, he realized, was a condition more
exaggerated, for the primeval jungle in which he was lost had little or
nothing to offer in the way of food.
He had found a few trees which seemed to offer some promise of allaying
his hunger, but after a few bites of the fruit he was forced to throw it
down in disgust. It was too bitter for human consumption. Other fruit
which looked more palatable he was afraid to touch, fearing poisoning
might be the result.
And so just as the first shadows of the premature twilight stalked the
jungle, Hal espied an _inambu_, or forest fowl, fluttering homeward for
the night. A well-timed shot, however, intercepted him and he fell
straight into the clearing.
Hal’s hopes rose a little after that. He found, surprisingly, that he
could do wonders with his two bare hands. The fowl was plucked and given
as good a cleaning as was possible, considering the lack of water. And
if he was a little skeptical as to its sanitary merits, he did not allow
the thought to spoil the pleasant anticipation of a poultry dinner.
He gathered wood again, piles of it, and built a fine fire. Darkness had
settled before the meal was cooked, but Hal was indifferent to
everything save his primitive cooking. The fowl required all his
attention and had to be roasted over the fire by means of a stick which
he had broken at one end into a sort of make-shift prong.
He consumed the whole bird, and though it was rather tasteless without
salt, he was thankful for that much. Water he tried not to think of.
Sleep he could have for the taking, and he set about piling wood onto
the fire so that he could sleep for an hour or two without fear of
having the jungle night prowlers disturb his much-needed slumber.
The hands of his wrist watch pointed to eight o’clock as he settled
himself close to the fire. The heat was a little uncomfortable, but he
dared not risk sleeping away from its protecting glow. And as he shut
his eyes to the dismal solitude about him, his prayer was a hope that
tomorrow would bring help.
But Hal was to learn that tomorrow never comes.