A PRISONER
Hal had not time to consider this at all, for in a moment, it seemed,
the natives had swarmed up from the clearing and surrounded him. And the
native lying before the hut had gotten to his feet in an amazingly short
time, producing a bow and arrow and looking as if he would use it on the
slightest pretext.
Hal’s pet guardian, Big Boy, stepped up to his side at this juncture and
pulling him by the arm urged him back toward the clearing. He did so,
willing but puzzled, and as he turned his back toward the hut, the same
cry of misery broke out, pleading and utterly pathetic.
Hal stopped, hesitated, as if he were going to go back, when he noticed
that a number of the warriors were following him with bows and arrows
drawn. Big Boy, too, marching at his side, had acquired an exceedingly
pugnacious expression on his usually bland countenance.
Straight back to the _maloka_ they marched him, saw him safely to his
apartment in the rear, then left Big Boy standing guard while they
gathered in the front for a long and noisy conference.
Hal could make nothing out of the whole proceedings. He did not know
what it was all about. Yet the uneasy thought recurred that it was not a
promising sign to see naked savages following him about with drawn bows
and arrows. They had not done so before. What did it mean now?
Had his presence before that strange hut incurred their enmity? And if
so—why? Why should that wretched cry bring them swarming to his side and
cause them to treat him as if he had committed some crime? Why?
Hal was to learn why, to his sorrow, and that the way of the Amazon
Indian is indeed very strange.
In the meantime he was doing all in his power to get Big Boy in a spirit
of good will. He coaxed and cajoled to find out why he was being guarded
thus.
Big Boy, ever an admirer of Hal’s powerful physique and commanding
grace, relaxed a little to motion that the warriors of the tribe were
holding a pow-wow to ascertain what should be done about the incident
before the hut.
“What about it?” Hal gestured with one of his sad-sweet smiles. “I have
done nothing.” He shrugged his shoulders and put his hands over his
heart to show that he was innocent of any wrongdoing.
Big Boy melted enough to wriggle his hands in a way that conveyed to Hal
the information that the spirits were offended. His going along the
trail to the hut and hearing those cries made him a thing of evil. And
to the Indian, evil was a thing to be shunned.
Through Big Boy’s lucid mode of expression, Hal learned that a demented
native occupied that hut, or rather he was incarcerated there as
evidenced by the native guarding it. And a demented person, Big Boy
explained by pounding his head vigorously, was unholy, evil. Thus the
person upon whom this evil one cries also becomes evil.
“And so all you guys think I’m evil, huh?” Hal asked, gesticulating
wildly and pounding his broad chest.
Big Boy nodded.
“What can they do about it?” Hal persisted, feeling not a little uneasy.
Big Boy shrugged his shoulders in answer and Hal could get nothing more
out of him for quite a while. He went to sleep and slept for an hour.
When he awakened, he saw that his wrist watch was being curiously
inspected by the Indian.
“Like?” Hal motioned, sitting up.
Big Boy nodded, then, with a grave shake of the head, sat down alongside
of Hal.
The tribe, Hal noticed, were all settled for the night in their
apartments. No one but him and the Indian were awake at that moment. One
could have heard the proverbial pin drop when Big Boy suddenly motioned
to his bow and arrow.
For the next five minutes he enacted with pantomimical accuracy just
what was going to take place in the settlement at dawn. He pointed first
in the direction of the jungle hut, then he pointed toward the chief who
was lying a few apartments distant, sound asleep. Big Boy mimicked that
powerful personage by making a grave face and shaking a sagacious finger
at Hal. Next he silently waved his arms, indicating all the sleeping
warriors in the _maloka_, then pointed toward the heavens as a final
gesture.
Hal comprehended it all, and he almost wished that he hadn’t, for it
wasn’t terribly comforting news.
For his stroll through the jungle trail and the evil that the warriors
believed had been visited upon the tribe through Hal, the sagacious
chief had pronounced sentence on their white guest. That sentence
condemned Hal to death at dawn—death by bow and arrow at the hands of
the tribe’s picked warriors.
Hal shivered and glanced at his young captor a moment. The young man
must have some liking for him, else why did he tell him all this? Could
he use Big Boy’s liking and hero worship to his own advantage?
He tried, using all the wit and cunning that he could muster. Smiles,
pleading looks, and even a cajoling shake of his captor’s shining
shoulder which Hal followed up by thrusting his wrist watch under Big
Boy’s nose. And that did the trick.
The Indian nodded his head, pleased, and sat as still as a mouse while
Hal fastened the watch on his left wrist. When it was adjusted he
indulged in a smile, moving his hand back and forth to see the glow of
the radium-faced dial in the gloom of the _maloka_. He was like a child
with a toy.
Hal waited long enough for him to enjoy it, then nudged him warningly.
Time was fleeting, the fires were burning and every warrior was deep in
sleep. From past observation he knew that such utter silence did not
long reign in the _maloka_. He would have to act and act quickly.
Big Boy rose and motioned his captive to follow stealthily. Hal followed
obediently, but never in his life did he seem to make more noise. The
warriors, however, did not hear it, for no one stirred throughout the
length of the _maloka_. Then they reached the door.
A full moon was coming up and Big Boy motioned Hal to walk close to the
trees. He walked out in full view of the clearing, however, his dark
shining body glistening with every stride. At intervals he stopped,
listened intently, then pattered on toward the river.
They came out on the banks without incident, in the full light of the
moon. The canoe was there—the canoe which the chief had decided was not
to take the white young man back to civilization. But Big Boy had
decided otherwise, and he motioned Hal to hurry, pushing the
frail-looking craft well out into the stream.
Hal got in without a word or a sound. He turned, putting out his hand in
gratitude to the young Indian lad who was saving his life, but was
surprised to see that Big Boy had also clambered in the canoe and had
taken up one of the paddles preparatory to departure.
He only nodded to Hal’s inquiring look and with a few rapid strokes put
considerable distance between themselves and the settlement. Then he
held up his hand on which the wrist watch was fastened, and shook his
head darkly.
Hal understood and it made him feel mean. But Big Boy would not have it
so. He smiled reassuringly to his white friend as if to tell him that it
did not matter. He may have earned the eternal condemnation of the
spirits and of his people by helping the evil-stricken white man to
escape, but had he not gained a wrist watch and a friend? That was the
gist of his violent gestures.
Hal shrugged his shoulders, but he was touched by Big Boy’s devotion.
Truly, the way of the Amazon Indian was strange.