he owned so much property. Stakes were driven into the ground for
supports to a long, sloping roof, thatched with straw. The sides were
made of mud, hardened in the sun. He had a large assortment of pots,
pans, kettles, knives, &c., that he had brought up from the coast
from time to time. He made a net-work of strong vine stalks near the
roof, on which to hang provisions. Otherwise the ants which were sure
to invade the premises would make sad havoc with the eatables. On the
earthen floor he spread beautifully prepared tapir skins. There was not
so handsome a residence in all the Antis region.
[Illustration: THE PALM GROVE.]
For his personal adornment, he had tattooed his face with three
dotted blue lines across each cheek, and a purple star in his
forehead. He dressed partly in the European style, having learned this
on the coast. His trowsers were of blue cotton, and his jacket of red
cotton; on state occasions, he wore a long scarf cloak of white cotton
about him, and put a conical cap on his head. I must not forget what
he considered the most elegant part of his toilette—a small plate of
highly polished silver, which hung from his nose. He daubed patches
of red and black paint on his face, and thus attired, he went for his
wife. She was slightly tattooed on her forehead and chin in blue and
red plaids. Usually she was dressed in a long white sacque, but, on
this occasion she wore a full skirt of white with a gay scarf wound
around her shoulders. Her ornaments were colored seeds, and tapirs’
claws. She also put on a conical cap that Iturim had given her,
ignorant of the fact that it was not a proper head-dress for a woman.
Miniqui, the bride, lived on the opposite side of the river from the
palm grove; and, after the wedding feast, Iturim conducted her to her
new home.
They crossed the river on a rude suspension bridge, made of osiers;
and you may be sure Miniqui was pleased with the large, sumptuously
furnished house she found in the palm grove. They were welcomed by a
large pet ape, named Simuco. He was a very wise creature, and devotedly
attached to his master.
For a short time all three lived together in the happiest manner.
Iturim hunted and fished; Miniqui did the housework; and Simuco amused
them both with his funny tricks.
But a tribe of Antis came up from the lower river, and challenged the
Upper Antis to a canoe race. The elderly men were in favor of declining
the challenge; but the younger ones, at the head of whom was Iturim,
were eager for the contest; and so it was determined upon.
[Illustration: CROSSING THE SWING-BRIDGE OF OSIERS.]
The rivers in the Antis country are mountain torrents. Even in
the places where the water seems to flow smoothly there are strong
under-currents that call for a great degree of skill in navigation.
And every few miles, the rivers dash over rocks, and form dangerous
rapids. The Indians are very expert in managing their canoes in this
kind of boating, which is called “shooting the rapids;” but with all
their skill and practice, they cannot help fatal accidents occurring
quite frequently. The mere upsetting of a boat is nothing, for the
Antis is almost as much at home in the water as on the land; but it is
impossible to swim in the whirling waters of the rapids, and the danger
consists in being dashed against the rocks, or violently sucked under
the waves.
The prize, to be given to the man who should first reach the goal in
this race was one of those ingenious pocket knives that contain a
number of tools in a small compass.
These savages had never seen anything like it until now when one was
displayed; and to their ambition to distinguish themselves, was added a
keen desire to possess this treasure.
The race was three miles long, and there were two rapids to “shoot.”
The second one was very dangerous, and was full of jagged rocks. At
some distance below this rapid the women and children of the two tribes
assembled to watch the boats rush over the fall, and to see them come
up to the goal. With them were the few men who did not join in the
sport. There were eight canoes, with three men in each. One of these
men was the leader; and it was his business to guide the boat with a
paddle safely and swiftly through the rapids. These eight leaders were
the candidates for the prize. The one whose boat first touched the
beach at Toucan Point was to have the knife. It was the duty of the
other men to row the boats until they approached the rapids. It seems
to me that these men were also entitled to a prize; for, of course, the
boats that first reached the rapids were most likely to win; and on the
calm stretches of the river everything depended upon the skill of the
rowers. But the Antis have their own rules for boat racing.
It was a pretty sight to see the eight light, gracefully-pointed canoes
abreast, at the start. But nobody was there to witness it, unless we
allow Simuco, the monkey, to be a person. He sat upon the bank, and
gravely watched the scene. What he thought of it I don’t know, but he
perfectly understood that he was not to be of the party. He made no
attempt to enter any of the boats, but as soon as the signal was given,
and the canoes started off, he darted off also, running swiftly along
the shore, or scrambling over rocks.
Where the boats started the river widened into a sort of lake, but it
soon became too narrow for the boats to keep abreast. The Indians knew
this, but they knew that they would not long keep abreast in any case.
Before the first mile was passed the boats were much scattered. Four
canoes went over the first rapid side by side. Two of them were so
close that they came near crashing together, and their leaders yelled
and scolded at each other furiously. One of these was Iturim, and the
other a young man of the lower Antis, Altisquo. But the four canoes
went over together, and swept into the calmer water with their bows in
a straight line with each other.
During the next mile and a half of quiet water two of these canoes fell
back, and were passed by some that had come over the rapid more slowly.
The rowers of Iturim and Altisquo kept an even stroke with their oars.
Occasionally a boat would pass them, but would soon give out, and the
two canoes were still side by side when the last, and most dangerous
rapid came in sight.
The rowers drew in their oars. Their task was done. Iturim and Altisquo
stood each in the stern of his boat, and dexterously guided their frail
crafts among the black rocks, turning aside from the whirling eddies
that threatened to suck them in. Each was anxious to be the first to
reach the narrowest and most perilous part of the voyage.
[Illustration: THE BOAT RACE.]
Iturim shot into this vortex of waters more than a boat’s length ahead
of Altisquo. It was impossible now for the latter to pass him. The
prize was virtually won. Iturim was full of joy, though the spray from
the waves wet him from head to foot, and his canoe often grated against
the rocks, or was tossed from side to side.
Altisquo saw that the swift rush of waters would now bear his rival
over the fall before he could hope to overtake him; and his heart was
filled with rage and hate. Suddenly an opportunity presented itself to
him. His quick eye saw that he had one chance more. It was a wicked
chance, but that did not matter to him. To the left of Iturim’s boat
was a whirlpool. The waters swirled furiously around a rock, throwing
up blinding sheets of spray. By a sudden movement Altisquo turned
the stern of his boat around at the risk of breaking it against the
rocks. This brought him into swift collision with the stern of Iturim’s
boat, and turned the latter violently around towards the whirlpool,
while his own canoe swung into the current, and rushed over the fall,
stern foremost. It spun around two or three times after this fearful
leap, then darted off bow foremost, and Altisquo was the first man who
beached his boat at Toucan Point.
Fortunately Iturim’s boat was not quite as near the whirlpool as
Altisquo supposed, and did not get drawn into it, as he had hoped. The
shock it received sent it violently over the fall, dashing it against
a rock, where it was broken to pieces, and the two rowers tumbled out.
But they were in comparatively still water, and succeeded in swimming
to the shore.
But, as Iturim was standing in the stern when the collision took place,
he was thrown out of the boat with such violence that he fell into the
whirlpool. He clutched fast hold of a projecting rock, but the waters
were too strong for him. He could not drag himself out by the slippery
rocks, and he would certainly have been sucked under and drowned, but
for Simuco. The ape had reached the lower rapid before the boats, and
was watching the scene with a lively interest when the fatal collision
occurred. He comprehended at once his master’s situation, and,
springing quickly from rock to rock, seized Iturim by the hair, and
held him with so firm a grip that he was enabled with some difficulty
to scramble upon the rock, and was taken off by a boat.
The leaders, who were steering the two boats not far behind Altisquo,
were too much occupied in making their own way through the dangerous
pass to observe closely what had been done. But the four rowers of
these canoes were not deceived by Altisquo’s quick movements. They
saw very clearly how unfairly he had won the race, and the spectators
suspected foul play from what they could observe of his manœuvres.
After hearing all the testimony, the judges awarded the prize to
Iturim. He had, virtually, won the race before the accident, and, as
this was the result of a malicious assault, and not brought about by
his own carelessness, it was decreed that the marvelous tool-knife
should be his.
But alas for Iturim’s fine clothes! He had arrayed himself in his very
best European costume in order to show off before the strangers, and
now he was clad in rags. Simuco had snatched the high-pointed cap from
the waves, and put it again on his master’s head, but its ambitious
peak hung down, limp and forlorn. Iturim was rather crestfallen, at
first, at the ridiculous figure he cut. He certainly did not look like
a hero. But the knife consoled him, and he was in a jolly humor when he
walked home with his prize in his pocket, and his faithful ape perched
upon his shoulder.
This was at the end of the day, after a great feast in honor of his
victory, in which both tribes of Antis had joined. The Lower Antis had
bidden farewell, however, some time before, and were now on their way
back to their own country.
Miniqui had left the river with the women and children, and had gone
home before Iturim. What was his surprise then when he met her in the
woods some distance from the house. She came flying towards him, with
her arms outstretched, and shrieking as she ran.
“Everything is gone!” she cried, as soon as she saw Iturim.
“What has happened?” he asked. “I don’t know,” said Miniqui, “but it is
all gone—house and all! When I got home there was nothing there!”
Iturim ran to his grove at his best speed. His house had been torn to
pieces, the stakes broken up, and the straw trampled in the mud. All
his possessions, which he had been collecting for so many years, his
pots, pans, baskets, beads, silver ornaments, clothes, tapir skins,
everything had been taken away. The thieves had not left him so much as
an old shoe.
He knew very well who had done it. Altisquo and his two rowers had been
missed from the feast at an early hour, and it was supposed that they
were too angry to remain, and had returned quietly home; and everybody
was glad they had gone. But instead of that, they had been executing
this vengeance upon their successful rival.
Iturim was now the poorest man in the Antis tribe, and only a few hours
before he had been the richest.
“Only a flea-leap from happiness to misfortune,” he muttered.
You might suppose that this mean and shameful deed of Altisquo would
arouse the whole tribe of the Upper Antis to make war upon the Lower
Antis. That would have been the case with many Indian tribes. In
civilized communities the friends of Iturim would have demanded that
Altisquo should be tried, and properly punished. But the Antis did
neither of these things. I am sorry to say that theft is so common
among them, that robbing a house is considered rather a fine thing to
do, provided, of course, that the house robbed is not one’s own. If an
Antis, on returning home, finds his things have been stolen, he says
nothing, but watches his chance to make good his loss by stealing from
any house belonging to another Antis tribe.
So Altisquo was not punished at that time for his theft, and he felt
that he had compensated himself for the loss of the prize.
[Illustration: A NEW VENTURE FOR FORTUNE.]
Iturim and Miniqui found shelter in her father’s house until they
should be able to have another house of their own. Iturim set at once
to work snaring birds, and catching monkeys, that he might take them
down the river and sell them at a large settlement, whence they would
be carried over the mountains to the coast. This was a profitable
business, provided he was able to get his birds and monkeys there
safely.
When he had got together some twenty birds, and three or four monkeys,
he made up his mind it was time for him to start upon his journey, and
he considered what would be the best way to carry his menagerie. He hit
upon the brilliant idea of building a raft, and taking them down the
river in this way.
It seemed as if Iturim was again to be lucky in his ventures after
fortune, for just as he had everything prepared to start, two English
travelers arrived in the Antis country, and were glad enough to make
a bargain with Iturim for a passage down the river for their baggage.
He, on his part, was very glad to take the cargo, for there were a
great many bundles and packages, and the sum paid him was as much as he
expected to make from the sale of his animals.
He embarked at a place several miles below the Antis settlements,
and, from that point, had a river clear of rapids, and made a safe
and prosperous voyage. He had no difficulty in disposing of his birds
and monkeys, and the proceeds of this sale, with the money the two
Englishmen paid him, enabled him to load his raft with a variety of
cooking utensils and other things for his house, and he returned safely
to Miniqui with all the merchandise.
So, when the new house was built under the palms, it was almost as
richly furnished as the first one had been, and Iturim came to the
conclusion that he had again made his fortune. And he was right. He had
all he wanted, and that is a fortune, always.
LARGE HOUSES FOR SMALL TENANTS.
In Australia there is a bird—the Megapodius—that builds for its family
an enormous dwelling. It is not a large bird, being about the size of
our partridge, but it seems to have very lofty ideas. If a man built a
house in the same proportion to his size, as that of this bird is to
its size, his house would be twice as large as the Great Pyramid of
Egypt. It would be very inconvenient to have such residences as these,
and they would be very difficult to keep clean, to say nothing of the
great expense of building them. A man would have to call in the aid of
hundreds of workmen, and pay them well, and years would be required to
complete such a mansion, and a great many different instruments would
be called into use. Whereas two of these birds will build their huge
dwelling in a few weeks, with no tools but their own beaks and claws,
and with no expense whatever.
The Megapodius does not believe in gay clothes, and is always dressed
in plain and sombre brown. It is an intelligent, patient, industrious,
persevering little creature, as you will see from the way it constructs
its nest.
It begins by gathering together a mass of leaves, branches, and plants.
With these it spreads out on the ground, in the place it has selected
for its nest, a thick bed of a circular form. Upon this it heaps up
earth and stones, and packs them well together, continuing to labor
perseveringly until it raises a mound from eight to fourteen feet
high. Some of these mounds measure a hundred and fifty feet round the
base, and as much as twenty-four feet up the slope. A circular opening
is left in the center of this mound, and extends from the top to the
ground.
[Illustration: NEST OF THE MEGAPODIUS.]
In this opening herbs and leaves are heaped up; and, on this the
Megapodius places its eggs, eight in number, arranged in a circle, at
equal distances from each other, with the points downward.
After the female has performed this task of arranging the eggs, both
of the parent birds leave the nest, for they are of no use whatever to
the young birds after they are hatched. So you see this great labor,
in which they have shown so much skill is not for themselves, but for
their children.
The leaves and herbs, enclosed in this great mass of compact earth,
become so heated after a time that fermentation commences, and this
heat hatches the eggs. How does the Megapodius know this? And how does
it know what plants will produce poisonous vapors, so that it never
brings these to its nest?
Most birds, you know, are born naked, or covered with a soft down, and
they have to be fed for several weeks until their feathers grow, and
they can be taught to fly. But the young Megapodius, we are told by
travelers, comes out of its shell fully provided with feathers. They
say that it throws off the hot leaves that surround it, and mounts to
the top of the mound, looks about for a few minutes, flaps its wings,
and then, at once, soars up in the air, and comes back to its nest no
more. If this be true, it knows where to look for food, and how to take
care of itself as soon as it is born.
Another Australian bird, the Telegalla, also builds a large nest,
though, by no means equal in size to that of the Megapodius. The bird
is larger, too. It is about the size of a turkey, and, like that fowl,
carries itself with quite an important air. It works in the grassy
fields. It cuts down grass by the handful; or rather, I should say,
by the clawful. For, after it has gathered a small bunch of grass, it
grasps it with one claw, and hops proudly along on the other claw to
the spot it has chosen for its nest.
[Illustration: TELEGALLAS MAKING THEIR NESTS.]
The male and female bird work for a long time in this way, and make
a vast number of journeys to and fro, always bearing to the nest a
little bundle of grass. They heap this up, as haymakers build up their
haycocks. In fact a Telegalla’s nest is not unlike a haycock, and is
about the size of one.
Having reared up their nest as high as they think proper, the female
carefully places her eggs in the center; and then, with her mate, takes
her departure. They do not trouble their minds any more about either
eggs or nest. They know, in some mysterious way, that the grass they
have piled up will dry, when exposed to the sun, and that it will be
heated by this process. And they know that this heat will hatch the
eggs; and that the young birds will be able to take care of themselves
as soon as they issue from the shell. So, why should they worry
themselves about the matter?
In the Cape of Good Hope, Southern Africa, there are birds, not larger
than our sparrows, that build cities to live in. They belong to the
family of Grossbeaks, and these are called Social Grossbeaks, because
they live in communities. Hundreds of birds will unite in building
an immense nest, high up the trunk of some tree. They work away with
twigs, and sticks, and grass, and feathers, and moss. And, when the
structure is completed, it looks at a little distance as if men had
built some great timber work around the tree trunk. It is in reality a
city, consisting of rows of single nests, each one inhabited by a pair
of birds.
There they lay their eggs, and hatch them, and raise their children,
and teach them how to fly, and to get their living. Hundreds of
families live thus peaceably together, and have a good time helping and
visiting each other. Policemen do not seem to be necessary in these
cities, where each bird behaves just as well as he knows how.
[Illustration: NESTS OF SOCIAL GROSSBEAKS.]
No doubt, after their hard work is done, they have fine fun at their
parties, and merry-makings. Whether they have “town meetings,” and
public lectures, and parades, I know not. Private lectures, and
concerts, I am sure they must have! And the liveliest jigs and waltzes
among the branches of the trees!
A traveler in Africa once brought one of these nests away with him.
It contained 340 little nests. So it had been inhabited by 340 pairs
of birds, and their families. It was so heavy that several men were
necessary to remove it from the tree; and it was taken away in a wagon.
THE WONDERFUL ADVENTURES OF GUTEFUNDUS.
Once upon a time—it was four hundred years ago—the great Gutefundus, of
blessed memory, made up his mind that he would go all over the world,
and do good to everybody. A great part of the world as we know it, had
not then been discovered, and there were not so many people in those
times as there are now. But still it was something of an undertaking to
go all over the world, and do good to everybody.
Nevertheless, Gutefundus resolved to do it.
He decided, in the first place, that he would kill the great Sea
Serpent. This was a snake three or four miles long, which amused itself
by winding its coils around ships, thus crunching them up, after which
it would eat the crews at its leisure. If it were not very hungry it
would follow a ship a long time, rising out of the water occasionally,
and picking off a man or two at a time, until it had made an end of the
whole ship’s company.
Nobody ever knew where to find this snake, for it traveled all over the
ocean with incredible swiftness; and, it had such an extremely hard and
horny skin, that no dart or knife could pierce it. It was therefore not
an easy thing either to find the Sea Serpent, or to kill it.
Nevertheless Gutefundus determined to find it and kill it.
He embarked on this expedition in mid-summer, in the very best vessel
that could be made in those days, and with a crew of picked men.
Fortune favored him, and in the second month of the cruise, the great
Sea Serpent was after the ship of Gutefundus, little dreaming that that
very ship was after him.
The sailors were frightened nearly out of their wits when they first
saw the long line of this monster’s body rising and falling on the
waves, far in their rear. But the stout heart of Gutefundus knew no
fear. He took in sail, and waited for his foe. But the serpent was in
no hurry. He kept his distance for a couple of days, and then he sank
into the water and disappeared. Gutefundus feared the snake had escaped
him; but, a few days afterwards, it unexpectedly popped its head out
of the water, close to the ship’s sides, and, in an instant, seized
a sailor in its enormous jaws, and went down again with a tremendous
splash.
[Illustration: IT SEIZED A SAILOR IN ITS JAWS.]
At that moment Gutefundus thought that, so far, he had done no good
to any body, and had been the means of leading the poor sailor to his
death.
But he did not despair. The Sea Serpent would come again, he felt sure,
and now that he knew the enemy’s tactics, he made his preparations.
The next time the Sea Serpent reared his head over the ship’s side
Gutefundus was ready for it. Barrels filled with water were arranged
all along the sides of the deck, and the moment the great head
was level with the deck, Gutefundus was in front of it; and, in a
twinkling, he rolled a barrel into the gaping mouth of the creature.
The astonished snake gulped down this unusual morsel with some
difficulty; and Gutefundus took advantage of this interval of choking
to plunge his long spear into one of the eyes of the monster. It sank
heavily into the water; and, for several days, the ship sailed over a
sea reddened with its blood.
And that was the last of the great Sea Serpent. It is a pity that the
Serpent’s body never rose to the surface, so that our hero might have
had its skin.
The next expedition of Gutefundus was to the Orkney Islands. Wonderful
trees grew in the marshes of those distant isles. They bore eggs for
fruit! At the proper season these egg-like fruits opened, and out
dropped little ducks into the water, where they immediately began to
swim about. These trees were called Bird Trees.
It was rather a singular thing that, although the learned men wrote
full accounts of these trees, and all the common people talked about
them, nobody had ever seen one of them.