WE FIGHT A GOOD FIGHT
In five minutes we were threading the underbrush, a difficult task
because it grew so thickly; but fortunately it was not of great extent
and a journey of fifteen minutes brought us to the edge of the forest.
Chaka had marked his way by sighting a group of three giant mahoganies
whose spreading tops formed a perfect triangle. He paused a moment just
in the center of this group, pushed aside a bunch of tangled vines and
with a grunt of satisfaction led us into a broad, well defined trail.
This, we understood, was the route followed by the Itzaex when they
invaded the territory of the Mopanes, in order to gather turtle, or to
fish. Such invasions had always been bitterly contested, but Chaka’s
people were never deterred from an undertaking by the prospects of a
fight.
It seems strange that after nine years this Indian boy should remember
the place at all. Chaka was but fifteen when picked up by Allerton, and
he certainly did not look his twenty-four years now. Civilized life had
not taught him to forget his boyish adventures, and Allerton must have
placed implicit confidence in the Maya, since all our plans and hopes
were based upon his assertions and his knowledge of the country.
Joe, Archie and I, who had often talked over these things, could not yet
decide how far the lieutenant was justified in his unswerving trust. We
liked Chaka and believed in him; but might he not be deceiving himself
as well as us in many important details—especially those regarding the
Tcha and the hidden city? It was all hearsay, after all, the tale of the
old atkayma, who might easily have exaggerated his experiences.
It was dark as Erebus in the forest. I can’t imagine how Chaka found his
way so accurately. But he seldom hesitated, leading us forward at a
steady gait and only pausing when the narrow way obliged us to use our
best inventive genius in getting the chests between the trees. Once or
twice we had to make a detour through wild and tangled underbrush and
networks of vines, in order to squeeze the chests into the trail again,
and all this delayed us considerably.
After three hours of dogged progress we stopped to rest, and now Chaka
flashed a dark lantern on the scene, believing we were so far from the
Mopane villages that the light would not be seen. That helped some, as
you may imagine, and it seemed to me, with my limited knowledge of such
things, that we had covered at least a dozen miles of forest path when
Allerton called a halt and said we would sleep until daylight.
We dozed in our outfits, just as we were, not venturing to remove any
part of our armor for fear of a surprise. Nor were we at all
uncomfortable. I remember that I dropped down upon the leaves and moss
just where I had stood, thoroughly tired by the long march. There was
little fear of scorpions, serpents or other vermin, since we were so
well protected, and I for one needed no lullaby to send me fast asleep.
Chaka and Allerton kept watch by turns, on this occasion, and I heard
Paul rebuking “my brother Chaka” for not calling him when he should have
done so.
I thought it must still be night when they wakened me, and in truth I
was not at all ready to get up; but when I rose and rubbed my eyes I
could dimly discern the trunks of the trees all about me, with small
patches of gray sky showing here and there through the tops; so I
realized it was time to tramp on again.
Allerton unlocked a chest and gave us each a cup of hot coffee from
thermos bottles, where it had been placed aboard ship. We ate some
biscuits, too, and felt greatly refreshed.
All had proceeded so nicely thus far that my original fears as to the
dangerous nature of this undertaking had become lulled. It was cool and
pleasant under the shade of the trees as we started on again, and the
song birds were in full chorus.
Suddenly Chaka, who led us, stopped short and held up his hand.
Instantly Paul was beside him.
“What is it?” he asked.
“A hunting party. Warriors. Many,” returned the Maya, his head bent
forward, listening intently.
“Are they Itzaex, my brother?”
“Mopanes!” said Chaka.
“Does it mean fight, then?”
“It means fight, my brother.”
Silently we had stood listening to this. Now we prepared for action.
“Use your firearms first,” commanded Allerton; “and then, if necessary,
the electrites. But remember we must save every charge in the batteries
that we can.”
We placed the four chests on end in a row, forming a scanty bulwark, and
took station behind them. The party of Mopanes, evidently returning to
their villages from a hunting expedition, were now heard noisily
jabbering in the distance, the sounds gradually drawing nearer. It
seemed they knew and used this trail as well as the Itzaex did, although
Chaka had called it a “secret trail.” How many we were about to face we
could not conjecture, but none of us showed or felt much fear. Indeed, I
am inclined to think we one and all welcomed the chance to prove the
qualities of our equipment. I was sorry to receive orders not to fire
the electrite, being curious to know how effective these queer weapons
would be; but I well knew Allerton was right in husbanding our supply of
stored electricity. We might need every charge badly before we had
played the game to the end.
The trail wound irregularly here and there through the dense forest, but
for some seventy yards ahead it came straight toward us, broader and
more open than in most places, which was all to our disadvantage. This
was offset by the fact that the natives had no suspicion an enemy was in
their path. They were between the Itzaex and their own people, and
imagined they had nothing to fear. Not even a scout had been sent ahead.
They rounded the curve in a dense mass, chattering and laughing until
they caught sight of us standing motionless in the trail. Then their
astonishment was genuine enough.
I think, had they found us garbed in the same manner as all white men
who had visited their coast had been, that there might have been chance
for a parley; but our appearance was so strange that they did not
hesitate a moment about attacking us. The first of the band, which
numbered about a hundred warriors, had scarcely halted when their wicked
darts began to fly in our direction.
These darts, the most dangerous weapons employed by the Maya tribes, are
slim strips of a tough vine, cut and hardened in the sun until they
become nearly as hard as steel. One end is sharpened and coated with a
deadly vegetable poison; the other has a flat piece of bark inserted in
a notch to give it “wings.” The darts are carried in a bark sheath and
are hurled with amazing swiftness and accuracy. The Maya tribes also use
bows and arrows, as well as long spears with heads of sharpened stone or
iron. But these latter weapons are most serviceable in hunting; in a
fight the Mayas depend largely upon the darts, a prick from one of the
points sending its poison coursing through the veins of the victim, who
expires in agony in a few minutes.
It may be the distance was in our favor; anyway the darts rattled
against our armor harmlessly enough. And we did not give the enemy time
to come nearer, just then. Taking careful aim we returned a volley from
our rifles which, backed by the thick mass of howling Indians, did
terrible execution. Nearly a score fell where they stood and the others
took to instant flight.
I felt much elated by our success until I noticed Chaka shaking his head
as if greatly annoyed. There was little opportunity to inquire the
reason, for in a surprisingly brief space of time a dart struck full
upon my headgear, and so sharp was the slender point that it stuck in
the meshes and hung there. Another and another dart followed, from this
or that side and even from behind us. The cunning Mopanes had leaped
into the thicket and surrounded us, from their concealment being enabled
to attack us with impunity. Arrows also flew, striking us sharp blows. A
spear knocked Pedro clean off his feet, but failed to wound him, as it
struck against his impervious gas-jacket.
“We must get out of this!” exclaimed Allerton. “It’s a regular trap.”
“Come!” cried Chaka.
We followed his lead. The blacks, Ned and Pedro wheeled the chests while
we others walked beside them and took a shot at every head that showed
in the jungle.
It proved somewhat revolting to climb over the dead and dying that
cluttered the way just ahead. One wounded Mopane struck at my leg with a
knife and tried to grab me; but I clubbed him over the head with my
rifle and he fell back and lay still.
There seemed no escape for us, as the rascals were able to follow
through the brushwood almost as fast as we covered the trail; but Chaka
moved rapidly on, increasing his pace until we were all on a jog-trot,
and at last we understood his reason.
The path opened abruptly into a vast clearing, nearly a quarter of a
mile in extent. It had been created originally by a forest fire, as the
charred trunks of trees testified. Near the center was a small pool of
stagnant water.
We ran to the edge of this pool and, facing around once more, prepared
to defend ourselves. If the natives remained in the forest their weapons
were comparatively harmless; if they cared to “rush” our position we had
decidedly the best of it.
They were in no hurry to decide, it seemed. After hurling a few darts
and shooting a few arrows they ceased activities for a full hour, during
which time we sat on the chests and got our breath back so we could
discuss the situation.
“How far are we from Itzlan?” inquired Allerton.
Chaka considered.
“About two hours’ journey, Brother Paul,” he replied.
“Two hours from the boundaries, I suppose,” said Paul. “And how far from
the City of Itza?”
“Two days, my brother.”
That was not very encouraging.
“It seems to me,” said Archie, “a good plan would be to send Chaka on to
his people as a scout. He could sneak through the enemy all right. And
then he could bring his people to our rescue.”
“No,” replied Allerton, “I cannot afford to risk Chaka on such a
mission. If we lose him, we lose everything. I am quite sure the Mopanes
cannot seriously injure us. We simply must devote the necessary time to
fighting them off, and then continue our journey.”