LOST IN THE JUNGLE
Ralph, upon flying from the infuriated elephant, had followed the defile
before described, rushing up its tortuous windings with little heed
beyond that of his own safety. If he thought at all, he believed that
the others were following him at no great distance; attracted, as he had
been, by the rough stones lying in the bed of the stream; where, after
the rains, it tumbled headlong down the pass, a mountain torrent of
double its present width. The loose boulders, and jagged fragments of
rock, would, he considered, cut the pads in the elephant's feet and
deter the animal's pursuit. In this he was mistaken, but the idea guided
his flight at the time.
He did not pause for reflection; it was instinct more than deliberation
which impelled his flight. On he ran; his active, well-trained young
limbs covering the ground rapidly; leaping from rock to boulder,
springing over pool and marshy hollow, and instinctively taking
advantage of every soft grassy slope.
All at once his heedless progress was arrested by summary disaster. He
stepped upon something soft, which turned beneath his foot instead of
proving to be a rounded hard stone. A fearful screech was heard,
curdling the very marrow in his bones, and bringing his heart to his
mouth as he fell, measuring his length prone upon the sward. An
unearthly spitting and growling assailed him, which, as he quickly came
to himself after the shock of his fall, he first thought emanated from
an enraged cat; but the next moment, was, he perceived, the token of
something far worse.
He had tumbled over two young tiger cubs, and their dam was hurrying up
to their rescue, from the pool where she had been drinking.
He saw the rich colour of her soft fur; he marked the beautiful dark
waving lines crossing the yellow body; the graceful power of her strong
limbs was impressed upon his mind in the moment's view which he had of
her, lifting her head from the water at the cry of her offspring, and
bounding back to their lair.
Then she crouched for her spring upon him, the sun lighting up her
splendid eyes, contracted as they were from the intentness with which
they glared at him, her tail lashing itself to and fro, as she warily
crept two steps nearer, with fell purpose apparent in her every curve.
That pause for her spring saved him. How he took his aim he never knew;
he could not have done it had he stayed to consider, it was an accuracy
born of desperation. He seized his gun, as he rose to his feet, pointed
it, fired, and saw her drop. The shot had entered the creature's neck,
near the shoulders, and pierced directly to its heart. She rolled over
with a faint struggle, and was still for evermore.
Oblivious of the death of their dam, the two cubs, replete with food,
were already curling themselves around to resume their disturbed sleep.
Ralph could not believe in his own deliverance. He dropped his arms, and
stood for a moment dumbfounded, expecting to see that agile sinuous mass
of beautiful peril move again.
He gazed at it in silent, fixed horror, till, gradually realising that
he was saved from it as by a miracle, he drew a long breath.
At the very same moment he became aware of two brilliant points of
topaz-hued light fixed upon him from the jungle.
They were the eyes of the male tiger, stealthily advancing upon him from
another side.
It was too much for the boy. Terror seized upon him, and he fled
precipitately in the reverse direction; tearing his way through creeper
and jungle-grass, breaking through bush and bramble, panting, gasping
and sick with fear, till, perceiving a gnarled tree easy to climb, he
flung down his gun and swung himself upwards, from branch to branch,
till he could seat himself upon a point of safety.
The tiger leapt, and leapt short of his prey. With a roar of baffled
rage it bounded up to the tree where the boy sat with blanched cheeks
and horror-distended eyes, and, rearing itself upon its hind legs,
stretched a strong paw upwards in endeavour to reach its enemy and pull
him from his refuge. Up went Ralph's legs with an instinctive spasm. He
crouched closer to the branch where he sat, and clung faster to the
boughs and cord-like creepers around him.
The tiger, with ferocious growls, snuffed at the gun, prowled round the
tree, and cast baleful glances upwards to the place where the boy was
plainly visible; but it made no attempt to climb the trunk, which Ralph
feared it would do. He did not know enough about the habits or power of
these creatures to be sure what it would attempt; and was alternately
divided between this dread and that of being no longer able to maintain
his hold, but of falling headlong from his perch into the grasp of those
cruel fangs and terrible paws.
But though every minute seemed to be an hour, the time was not really
very long before the creature gave up its pursuit, and made off with
head drooping and a long stealthy stride of its supple limbs.
Ralph could not at first believe himself to be safe. He thought that the
tiger might return; he thought that it was watching him from some secret
lair; he was not certain that his shot had proved fatal to the female
tiger; and the more he thought about it, the less probable did he
consider it that she was dead. He glanced this way and that, expecting
to see a gleam of golden colour creeping among the undergrowth of deep
green scrub; he strained his ears to hear soft footsteps crash among the
brushwood, or low-muttered growls uttered beneath him.
He was cramped and stiff from his attitude and the rigidity of his hold;
he grew very cold as the sun went down; he was hungry and very, very
thirsty; his lips were parched, his mouth fevered,--yet he dared not
descend the tree.
After a long time, he ventured to change his position to one of greater
ease. He shifted his place to a mighty branch, upon which he might
recline at full length, or sit with his back against the bole. Then he
began to wonder what had become of his companions. He could see none of
them, nor hear a sound which could proceed from human lips.
Where were they? What were they doing? Why did they not come to seek
him? Had any of them been trampled under foot by that mad elephant, or
devoured by the tigers? Surely some dreadful thing must have befallen
them, or they would have come to his assistance.
Mr. Gilchrist--Wills--Osborn--why did none of them come?
By degrees his thoughts concentrated themselves upon his gun. It must
not be there in the long grass, dark and wet with heavy dew. He must go
down and take it up, but dreaded the descent. Still, his gun must not
become rusted and useless, or what would become of him. Slowly,
silently, he crept down, swinging himself from bough to bough, pausing
and listening every moment for the tiger's low growl. Now he thought
that he heard it; then he believed that it was but his imagination.
Under one idea, he hung poised in air; under the other, he ventured a
little farther. All at once a treacherous branch, to which he had
trusted his weight, gave way beneath him; and, with a sudden jerk, he
fell crashing down to the ground.
His fall was broken by the thick tangle of the undergrowth, so that he
fractured no bones, but he was terribly shaken, cut and scratched, and
one foot sprained.
For a few moments he lay stunned; then pulled himself together, reached
out for the gun, and having possessed himself of it, tried to mount the
tree again. But he could not succeed. His arms felt as if they had been
all but pulled out of their sockets; blood trickled into his eyes from a
deep scratch on his brow, and blinded him.
But he dared not remain upon the ground, so he moved on a little to seek
a tree which might be easier to climb. The moon had risen in radiant
beauty, and there was plenty of light, but no tree suitable to his
purpose grew about that spot, and he moved deeper into the jungle, as he
thought that now here, now there, he had found one.
He did discover one at last, made his painful ascent of it, and, when he
thought that he had mounted sufficiently high, he found a tolerably easy
seat, and determined to await the dawn there.
He was extremely tired, but was afraid to sleep lest some snake or
noxious insect should coil around him or sting him. He had enough to do
to ward off the attacks of myriads of creatures as it was. Mosquitoes
hummed gaily over their feast upon him; huge beetles flopped in his
face, smaller ones ran up his trousers and sleeves, and tried to
penetrate down his back.
Ants got into his boots, and slimy things crawled over his hands and
endeavoured to fix themselves on his face or neck, or cling to his hair.
Would the tardy day never begin to break?
What was that red glow upon the sky to the eastward? It was not like the
dawn, it was not in the right place,--but what could it be? It was like
the reflection, upon the sky, of a mighty fire,--but where was the fire?
He could see none.
Ralph was not aware how far he had run up the defile, or noticed the
direction which he had taken in escaping from the tiger. In reality he
had skirted round the farther base of the hill upon which the
police-station was situated, and was wandering in the jungle at its
base.
The tardy sun rose at last; much of the terror of the night was swept
away under its beneficent influence. Ralph pulled himself together,
determined to walk off his stiffness and soreness; shouldered his gun,
and set off--down quite a new gulley, under the idea that he was
returning down the same through which he had come on the previous
afternoon; and limped resolutely forward, away from his friends, away
from the station, away from all help and succour.
He walked for a long time before he found that he was not going rightly,
for the defile came to an end. Its close was completed by a wide shallow
pool, fringed with bamboo canes, and upon which many water-fowl were
disporting themselves, while more were preening their plumage upon its
banks.
The sight made him feel how hungry he was, and he argued to himself that
the sound of his gun would betray his whereabouts to his friends, who
would answer the signal by another to let him know in which direction to
turn. He fired, therefore, upon the covey nearest to him, and two plump
birds fell.
Forgetting his fatigue and his lame foot in the excitement, he splashed
through the muddy shallows and pools, picked up his game, and brought it
back to _terra firma_.
"Well," said he to himself, "there is nothing to be gained by rambling
farther away. I may as well stay here and cook my breakfast, for I don't
know which way to go, and it is as likely that I should go wrongly as in
the right way. If they don't hear my gun, they will perhaps see the
smoke of a fire, which will guide them."
He therefore gathered some dry fuel in a heap, and, having the good
fortune to discover some cutchwood trees, collected the withered
branches lying scattered around, and soon had a splendid fire. The
flames emitted from the cutchwood were, however, too fierce for his
cookery, so he piled on some greener wood, and sat down to pluck his
birds, while the blaze was dying down to a nice glowing bed of red
ashes.
We say "pluck his birds," but Ralph was no gourmand; nor was he cook to
a first-class gentleman's club. Plucking was too lengthy an operation
for him; he cut the skin of his game down the back, and pulled it off,
inside out, like a stocking from a foot, having first chopped off the
heads and legs.
This operation was completed before his fire was ready; so he took a
plunge into a clear pool, reclothed himself, and then broiled his
breakfast, having split his birds open like spatch-cocks.
"They are not bad," thought he, as he devoured them, tearing their limbs
apart by help of fingers and knife, like a young ogre. "They are not
bad, though they would have been more savoury if I had had some pepper
and salt, with a dab of butter. How Agnes would have jeered at me as
man-cook. I wonder what the dear old girl is doing now. She little
thinks where I am. Lost in a Burmese jungle! What a pretty kettle of
fish it is. I know no more than the man in the moon which way to go, or
what to do. Well, no predicament is so bad that it can't be mended. If I
walk straight on, I must come somewhere, sooner or later. Those fellows
don't mean to join me here, that's plain. So Ralph Denham, Esq.,
marching orders are yours. Forward!"
He knew that he must regain the main stream of the Salween River, up the
eastern bank of which his party had come; but where was the Salween? He
must climb one of these mountain-spurs,--one sufficiently lofty to
command a bird's-eye view of the country, so that he could take its
bearings. He therefore set himself to the ascent of the most lofty hill
which he could perceive.
The ascent was, however, no joke. His foot was very painful. He had
dipped his handkerchief in water, and bound it tightly round the ankle,
but the heat rapidly dried it, nor could he constantly find means of
rewetting it to keep it cool.
The jungle grew thicker and thicker, more and more impenetrable, with
every step. He had to cut his way with his knife through the tangle of
creepers, linked and bound together in impenetrable masses, and his
knife soon became wholly inadequate to the task.
To proceed straight forward was utterly impossible, for the thickness of
the interlacing stems quite baffled his strength. He found an easier
place to the right, and essayed that; but after a few steps he was
pulled up again. He discovered a slighter barrier to the left, again to
be baffled wholly.
After hours of work, he had advanced but a dozen yards, and made up his
mind that to penetrate such a jungle as this, with no better appliances
than he possessed, and with no help, was a completely hopeless task.
He sat down to rest, and consider what would be his next best plan.