WITH THE MORNING
Hal was sick when daylight seeped in through the trees; he felt much too
sick to do anything but stay right where he was. But the nearness of the
pond housing an alligator, and the hope that the trail revived, did much
toward giving him the strength and initiative to go on.
The trail skirted the pond, for which he was tremendously thankful. He
gave it a furtive glance in passing, but there was nothing save a
good-sized ripple on the slimy-green surface, and Hal decided that the
monster must be taking his morning bath.
“And he can stay under until I get out of sight,” Hal muttered savagely.
“One look at that fellow will last me for a long, long time.”
He trudged along, feeling more and more encouraged at the decided
thinning out of the jungle. He felt freer, more like breathing than when
back in the dense forest, and the broad expanse of daylight in the
heavens set his heart to beating faster.
He almost forgot that his body ached and that his head throbbed
terribly. Fever racked him and his right hand was so swollen that it was
practically useless. But there was always the trail winding in and out
of the trees, lost one moment in a maze of bushes between the trees,
then coming up again a few feet further on.
The sun came up in a vast red ball, and Hal could see its reflection now
upon the shining leaves in the tree tops. He had stopped a moment to
look at it, when he heard a sudden rustling noise in the distant bushes.
He stepped up, realizing that it sounded like some heavy object plunging
about in the undergrowth, and was about to withdraw instinctively, when
there arose in the morning air a blood-curdling roar.
Before he had time to retreat, the bushes parted and out from them
leaped a jaguar. Its spotted back reared high in the air and, with an
infuriated squall, it came down at Hal’s feet. An arrow sticking out of
its thick neck told the story.
Obviously the animal was as much surprised as Hal, for it backed down a
moment, crouching on its hind legs and swinging its tail with a great
thumping sound each time it switched on the ground. But not for a moment
did it take its savage eyes from the astonished young man before it.
Hal saw at once that the animal was suffering great pain from the arrow,
but the wound was not mortal. Its frequent squalls betokened anger and
revenge against all humanity, and, from the hard glint in its eyes, this
retaliation would be thorough.
Hal did not stir from the spot, but, with a stealthy gesture, he reached
around to his back pocket. The next second he had aimed the gun at a
spot right between the jaguar’s steely eyes, but his aim was poor with
his left hand and he knew it. Consequently, the second the explosion
occurred, he was fleeing toward the nearest tree.
Up the slimy trunk he clambered, but not before the animal reached out
and clawed his right leg. Nevertheless, he hitched himself up, biting
his lips with pain, and settled on the nearest bough. Meanwhile, the
jaguar was crawling after him, hissing and emitting blood-curdling
cries.
Hal aimed the gun again, this time supporting it as best he could with
his swollen right hand. The bullet sang, the jaguar screamed, and before
its echo had died away in the tree tops, it fell with a terrific thud
and rolled five or six feet before its spotted body became rigid in
death.
For a long time, Hal stayed where he was, fearing that the cat might
suddenly revive. But when ten minutes had passed and there was no sign
of such a miracle, he carefully replaced the gun in his pocket and
undertook to get down from his uncomfortable retreat.
He soon found that he could not use his leg at all and had to slide to
the ground, blistering his good hand and feeling faint when he tried to
stand upright. He reached out to support himself on the tree trunk but a
wave of giddiness passed through his throbbing head and though he felt
himself sinking he seemed not to be able to prevent it.
He found himself in a heap and seemed to have neither the strength nor
the desire to do aught but stretch out and lie where he was. Pain
governed him now from head to foot and he feared for his wounded leg.
But the fear soon gave way to a sort of apathy out of which he did not
rise.
His eyes noted indifferently the sun climbing higher in the blue
heavens. It gleamed quite strongly through the swaying branches and, in
its glistening light, various-colored birds flitted about. Suddenly he
saw something black moving with a familiar whirling motion.
They circled closer and closer to the tree tops, swaying with each
revolution of their huge black bodies like some small army of the sky
moving earthward as a single unit. There was a fascination in that
continuous circling, Hal found—a rather dread fascination, and he
vaguely remembered that the dead jaguar lay not fifteen feet from him.
Then when their black bodies barely skimmed the tree tops he bethought
himself of his own physical condition. He knew he was getting weaker by
the moment. Besides his wounded leg and infected hand, some strange
fever seemed to be consuming him. Suddenly a horrible thought came to
him.
Did it mean that he was destined to die in that unholy spot? Did it mean
that those gruesome scavengers of the air were waiting for that moment
to arrive? Something was holding them off from descending upon the
hapless jaguar—was it himself?
Hal shivered and shuddered, yet he hadn’t the power to stir his body one
inch. He could only lie there and stare at the black mass moving nearer
and nearer, yet waiting, waiting.... But suddenly they seemed to be
rushing toward him—either that or he was rushing up toward them! But no,
it was neither—he himself was sinking down, down....
Strange cries pierced the air then, cries that were not uttered by bird
or animal or white man. Strange painted bodies moved in the brush, moved
stealthily but surely, and black, questioning eyes peered out at the
singular scene of a dead jaguar and a red-haired white man lying but
fifteen feet apart.