IN THE DEPTHS OF THE JUNGLE
Ordinarily the South American porcupine or coendoo is a timid animal,
seeking cover by day and hunting its food during the night. It lives
upon nuts, roots, herbs and leaves and, unlike other porcupines which
burrow in the ground, makes its home, to a great extent, in the
branches and hollows of large trees.
But though usually timid it is at times aroused to great anger,
especially when startled. Such was now the case with the beast that
confronted Mark. Every quill, or spine, was raised to its fullest and
the porcupine emitted a strange hissing whistle which bode the youth no
good.
Mark was startled, so much so that he slipped from the branch upon
which he stood and came close to pitching to the ground head first.
But he caught another branch and with an effort swung himself up to a
sitting position.
“Are you coming down?” called out Frank.
“I can’t! Here’s a porcupine, or something like it. He looks as if he
was going to attack me.”
As Mark spoke he felt in his pocket for his pistol and brought the
weapon forth. It was fully loaded and he pointed it at the coendoo,
which was now moving slowly backward as though to prepare for a leap
upon him.
Crack! went the pistol and the porcupine was struck a glancing blow
over the back. Then it made its leap, landing on Mark’s breast!
For the instant the youth was almost paralyzed with fright. But
mechanically he discharged his pistol a second time and the bullet
lodged in the coendoo’s breast. With a howl of pain it fell back,
caught at the tree branch with its tail and missed it, and went
plunging out of sight into the foliage and vines below.
“Did you kill it?” called out Frank.
“I don’t know. It fell down. Look out it don’t come on your head,”
answered Mark.
Frank already had his gun in hand, ready to be of service to his chum
if possible. But the porcupine failed to appear and he called back that
it must still be in the foliage of the tree.
With great caution Mark descended one branch after another. Presently
he caught sight of the animal, hanging from a limb by its tail, an
appendage which in the coendoo is unusually strong and long. The beast
was plainly dying but to make certain Mark put another bullet through
it. Then with the butt of the pistol he unwound the tail and the
carcass fell to the ground with a thud.
“That was a surprise party I didn’t expect,” said Mark, when he was
once more beside Frank. “How he scared me when he leaped at me! See,
his quills drew blood,” and he showed the back of his pricked hand.
“Wonder if the porcupine is good eating?”
“I’ve been told the meat is like that of a suckling pig. We’ll skin
him and take him along. Who knows but what we may need the meat badly
before we get out of our mess.”
It was a difficult task to skin the coendoo and it caused them more
than one wound. But at last it was finished, and with their game
over their shoulders and their guns in hand, they started out in the
direction of the stream Mark had located from the tree top.
The day proved an extremely hot one and the boys had not covered
half the distance when they found they had to sit down and rest. On
all sides was the trackless jungle: trees, bushes and vines, with
an occasional opening, where grew the most gorgeous of ferns and
flowers. Where the ground was damp, monstrous toadstools reared their
umbrella-like heads and the moss was six to eight inches deep. Insects
of a hundred varieties were numerous and among them crawled lizards
and other small creatures for which they could find no name. Orchids
abounded, some entwining around the trees to a great height. The odor
was so strong at times as to be positively sickening.
“They say that some of these orchids can put you in a sleep from which
you will never awaken,” said Mark. “I don’t know if it’s true or not,
but if we have to sleep in the open another night let us take good care
to keep away from anything that smells as strong as that plant yonder.”
“I heard the professor tell that one orchid produces vanilla,” said
Frank. “He said there were over three thousand varieties of the plant.”
Again the forward march was resumed and when both were almost too tired
to fight their way another step a river came into sight, flowing lazily
along in the sultry daylight. Both looked at the water for a minute in
silence then turned to each other in perplexity.
“It doesn’t look like the Orinoco,” declared Frank. “At least, not like
the part just above the camp.”
“Exactly what I was thinking, Frank. I believe we’ve struck another
stream entirely.”
“Then we are worse lost than we were before.”
“Perhaps not. This may be a tributary of the Orinoco. If so, by
following this we are bound to find the Orinoco itself sooner or later.”
“True, but this may flow along for miles before it joins the Orinoco,
and if it does join that stream, the question is: Does it join above or
below the camp?”
“I’m sure I can’t answer that question, now. The only thing we can do
is to follow this stream and trust to luck.”
“If only we had a canoe!”
“True, but we haven’t one, and no tools with which to even make a raft.
We’ll have to keep on hoofing it, as the saying goes.”
They had brought with them the remains of the baked curassow and on
this they now proceeded to make a dinner. Both longed for some bread
and vegetables. They were afraid to touch the berries and other things
growing around them for fear of being poisoned.
By throwing some brushwood into the stream they soon made certain of
the direction of the current and this accomplished set off once more,
after washing down the fowl meat with the coolest drink of water they
could find. Fortunately the bank of the stream was tolerably clear of
bushes so they made much more rapid progress than before.
“I have an idea,” said Frank, as they moved around a bend into which a
mass of driftwood had collected. “Do you see yonder tree trunk, caught
in the mud? Why can’t we shove that out into the water and take a ride?
It will rest us, and I think the trunk will move just about as fast as
we can walk, when once it gets started.”
“I’m willing to try it,” answered Mark, and they set to work to
dislodge the tree, which looked as if it had been in the water for
some time. Once loose they sprang “aboard,” as Frank called it, and
shoved into the stream proper. Caught by the current the tree trunk
swung along the surface of the watercourse more rapidly than they had
anticipated.
“This is something like,” cried Frank, seating himself on one of the
upmost branches. “It’s every bit as good as a canoe.”
“If it don’t take a notion to turn over and dump us into the stream,”
answered Mark. “It seems to me it’s a little shaky.”
Nevertheless, he, too, was satisfied and sitting side by side they
allowed the tree to carry them down the river. Soon several miles were
covered and then they noticed that the watercourse was growing narrower
and that the current was correspondingly stronger.
“My, but we are flying along now,” remarked Frank.
“Perhaps we had better try to steer the tree into shore,” returned
Mark. “I don’t like this increase in speed. We may be drifting toward
some rapids or a waterfall.”
He had hardly spoken when the tree whirled around, almost sending both
in the water. As they clutched at the branches they felt the speed
increase. The river was now not more than a quarter of its former width
and the water foamed up here and there, showing that there were rocks
not far below the surface. Rocks could also be seen along the shores
and presently they passed a tall cliff filled with birds, the flock
swooping off in several directions at their approach.
“I hear water falling ahead!” ejaculated Frank. “Hark!”
“Yes! yes! We are coming to a waterfall!” burst out Mark. “Let us
try to turn the tree into shore by all means. If we don’t we may be
drowned!”
Each had a tree branch in his hand, with which he had been trying to
paddle from time to time. Now both endeavored to use the tree branches
as rudders, but in a trice Mark’s was caught in some rocks and torn
from his grasp. A second later the tree bounced up and spun around,
throwing the boys flat among the branches. Dazed and bewildered they
clung fast, fearing that the next lurch of the tree would send them
into the stream, which now foamed and boiled on all sides of them.