day's work among the cinchonas. As it was the first day of
bark-gathering all went along to enjoy the novelty of the thing. A
"mancha" of the cinchona-trees was not far off, so their journey would
be a short one. For this reason, the horse and mule remained in the
stable eating the fruits of the "murumuru" palm, (another species of
_Astrocaryum_), of which all cattle are exceedingly fond. Even the hard
undigested stones or nuts, after passing through the bodies of horses
and cattle, are eagerly devoured by wild or tame hogs, and the zamuros,
or black vultures (_Cathartes aura_ and _atratus_), when hungered, take
to the pulpy fruit of this thorny palm-tree.
It was a very early hour when they set out, for Don Pablo and his people
were no sluggards. Indeed, in that climate, the early morning hours are
the pleasantest, and they had made it a rule to be always up by
daybreak. They could thus afford to take a _siesta_ in their hammocks
during the hot noontide,--a custom very common, and almost necessary, in
tropical countries. Their road to the cinchonas led up the stream, on
the same side with the house. After going a few hundred yards, they
entered a grove of trees that had white trunks and leaves of a light
silvery colour. The straight, slender stems of these trees, and the
disposition of their branches,--leaning over at the tops,--gave them
somewhat the appearance of palms. They were not palms, however, but
"ambaiba" trees (_Cecropia peltata_). So said Don Pablo, as they passed
under their shade.
"I shouldn't wonder," added he, "if we should see that strange animal
the ai. The leaves of these trees are its favourite food, and it lives
altogether among their branches."
"You mean the `nimble Peter,' do you not, papa?"
This inquiry was put by Leon, who had read about the animal under this
name, and had read many false stories of it, even in the works of the
great Buffon.
"Yes," replied Don Pablo; "it goes by that name sometimes, on account of
its sluggish habits and slow motions. For the same reason the English
call it `sloth,' and it is known among naturalists as _bradypus_. There
are two or three species, but all with very similar habits, though, as
usual, the French classifiers have separated them into distinct genera."
"Why, Buffon says," rejoined Leon, "that it is the most miserable
creature in the world; that it can scarcely get from tree to tree; that
some remain in the same tree all their lives, or, that when one has
eaten all the leaves off a tree, it drops to the ground, to save itself
the trouble of getting down by the trunk, and, that when on the ground
it cannot move a yard in an hour! Is all this true?"
"Totally untrue. It is true the ai does not move rapidly over the
ground, but the ground is not its proper place, no more than it is that
of the orang-outang, or other tree-monkeys. Its conformation shows that
nature intended it for an inhabitant of the trees, where it can move
about with sufficient ease to procure its food. On the branches it is
quite at home, or, rather, I should say, _under_ the branches, for,
unlike the squirrels and monkeys, it travels along the under sides of
the horizontal limbs, with its back downward. This it can do with ease,
by means of its great curving claws, which are large enough to span the
thickest boughs. In this position, with a long neck of _nine
vertebrae_,--the only animal which has that number,--it can reach the
leaves on all sides of it; and, when not feeding, this is its natural
position of repose. Its remaining during its whole life in one tree, or
suffering itself to fall from the branches, are romances of the early
Spanish voyagers, to which Monsieur Buffon gave too much credit. The ai
does not descend to the ground at all when it can help it, but passes
from one tree to another by means of the outspreading branches.
Sometimes, when these do not meet, it has cunning enough to wait for a
windy day, and then, taking advantage of some branch blown nearer by the
wind, it grasps it and passes to the next tree. As it requires no
drink, and can live without any other food than the leaves of the
cecropia, of course it remains on a single tree so long as it has plenty
of leaves. See!" exclaimed Don Pablo, pointing up; "here are several
trees stripped of their leaves! I'll warrant that was done by the ai."
"_A-ee_!" echoed a voice in the most lugubrious tones.
"I thought so," cried Don Pablo, laughing at the surprise which the
voice had created among the rest of the party. "That's the very fellow
himself,--this way,--here he is!"
All of them ran under the tree to which Don Pablo pointed, and looked
up. There, sure enough, was an animal about the size of a cat, of a
dark hay colour, with a patch of dirty orange and black upon the back.
This could be easily seen, for the creature was hanging along a
horizontal branch with its back downward, and its huge curving claws,
all in a bunch, were hooked over the branch. Its hair was thick and
rough, and no tail was visible, but its small round head and flat face
was almost as like the human face as is that of any monkey. Indeed, the
others would have taken it for a monkey,--Guapo excepted,--had they not
been already talking about it.
"Oh, yonder's another!" cried Leon, pointing higher up in the tree; and,
sure enough, there was, for the ai is usually found in company with its
mate. The other was a copy of the one already observed, with some
slight difference in size--no doubt it was the female one. Both had
observed the approach of the party, and now uttered their melancholy
"Ayee--a-ee!" that sounded anything but agreeable. In fact, so very
disagreeable is the voice of this creature, that it has been considered
its best weapon of defence. Beside the utterance of their cry, neither
of them made any effort to escape or defend themselves.
Don Pablo and the rest were about to pass on and leave the ais to their
leaf diet, but Guapo had other notions on that subject. Ugly as these
creatures were, Guapo intended to have one of them for his dinner. He,
therefore, begged Don Pablo to stop a moment until he should get them
down. How was this to be done? Would he climb up and drag them from
the tree? That is not so easily accomplished, for the ais, with their
crescent claws, can hold on with terrible force. Besides, they were out
upon the slender branches, where it would have been difficult to get at
them. But Guapo did not intend to climb. The tree was a slender one--
he had his axe with him--and the next moment its keen blade was crashing
through the bark of the ambaia wood. A few minutes served to bring the
tree down, and down it came, the ais screaming as it fell. Guapo now
approached to seize them, but about this he used some caution. Both
finding themselves without hope of escape, prepared for defence. Buffon
asserts that they make none. That is not true, as was seen by all the
party. Throwing themselves on their backs, they struck out with their
fore-arms in a sort of mechanical manner. These with the long horny
claws they kept playing in front of their bodies, striking alternately
with them, and rapidly, as a dog will do when suddenly plunged into
water. Guapo did not put his hands near them. He knew they would not
bite, but he also knew that he might get a scratch with the sharp claws,
and that he did not wish for. But Guapo had a way to take them, and
that he now put in practice. Lopping a couple of branches from the
tree, he held one out to each of the ais, and touched them with it on
the breast. Each, as soon as it felt the branch, clutched it tightly
between its powerful fore-arms and held on as if for life and death. It
would have taken a stronger man than Guapo to have pulled either of the
branches away again. The thing was now done. Giving his axe to Leon to
carry for him, Guapo lifted an ai, still clinging to the branch, in each
hand, and carried them off as if they had been a pair of water-pots. He
did not wish to kill them until he got them home, alleging that they
were better for eating when freshly butchered.
The bark-hunters now continued their route, and shortly after entered a
little glade or opening in the forest, about an acre in size. When they
had reached the middle of this, Guapo threw his ais upon the ground and
marched on.
"Why do you leave them?" inquired the others.
"No fear for them," replied Guapo; "they'll be there when we come back.
If I carried them into the woods, they might steal off while we were at
work, but it would take them six hours to get to the nearest tree."
All laughed at this, and went on, leaving the ais to themselves. Before
passing out from the glade, they stopped a moment to look at the great,
conical nests of the termites, or white ants, several of which, like
soldiers' tents, stood near the edge of the glade. It was yet early,
the air was chilly, and the ants were not abroad; so that, after gazing
for a while on these singular habitations, the bark-gatherers pursued
their way, and were soon under the shadow of the cinchona-trees.
CHAPTER TWENTY FOUR.
THE BARK-HUNTERS.
In a few minutes the work began--that work which was to occupy them,
perhaps, for several years. The first blow of Guapo's axe was the
signal to begin the making of a fortune. It was followed by many
others, until one of the cinchonas lay along the sward. Then Guapo
attacked another, as near the root as was convenient for chopping.
Don Pablo's part of the work now began. Armed with a sharp knife, he
made circular incisions round the trunk, at the distance of several feet
from each other, and a single longitudinal one intersecting all the
others. The branches were also served in a similar way, and then the
tree was left as it lay. In three or four days they would return to
strip off the bark both from trunk and branches, and this would be
spread out under the sun to dry. When light and dry it would be carried
to the store-house. So the work went merrily on. The trees were taken
as they stood--the very young ones alone being left, as the bark of
these is useless for commerce.
The Dona Isidora sat upon a fallen trunk, and, conversing with her
husband, watched the proceedings with interest. A new and happy future
seemed at no great distance off. Little Leona stood beside Guapo,
watching the yellow chips as they flew, and listening to some very fine
stories with which Guapo was regaling her. Guapo loved little Leona.
He would have risked his life for her, would Guapo, and Leona knew it.
Leon was not particularly engaged on that day. When the bark was ready
for peeling he intended to take a hand with the rest. He could then
employ himself in spreading it, or could lead the mule in carrying it to
the storehouse. Leon did not intend to be idle, but there happened to
be no work for him just then; and after watching the bark-cutters for
awhile, he sauntered back along the path, in order to have a little fun
with the ais. Leon had no very great confidence that he would find them
in the place where they had been left, and yet he believed in Guapo.
But it was hard to understand that two animals, each endowed with a full
set of legs and feet, should not be able to make their way for a
distance of twenty paces, and escape! After the rough handling they had
had, too! He would have a peep at them, anyhow, to see how they were
coming on. So back he went.
On getting near the glade their voices reached him. They were there,
after all! He could hear them utter their pitiful "ay-ee--ay-ee!" and,
as he thought, in a louder and more distressing tone than ever. What
could be the matter? They had been silent for some time, he was sure,
for such cries as they now uttered could have been heard easily where
the rest were. What could be the meaning of this fresh outburst? Had
some new enemy attacked them? It seemed like enough.
Leon stole forward, and peeped into the glade. No--there was nothing
near them! But what was the matter with the creatures? Instead of
lying quietly, as they had done when left behind, they were now rolling
and tumbling backward and forward, and pitching about, and dancing first
on their feet and then on their heads, and cutting all sorts of strange
capers! Could it be for their own amusement? No; their lamentable
cries precluded that supposition; besides, their odd attitudes and
contortions bespoke terror and pain!
"Carrambo!" muttered Leon. "What's the matter with them?"
They seemed inclined to escape towards the trees; but, after making a
few lengths, they would fall to the ground, tumble about, and then,
getting up again, head in the opposite direction!
Leon was puzzled,--no wonder. He looked around for a solution of this
queer conduct on the part of the ais. No explanation appeared. At
length he bethought himself of going up to them. Perhaps, when nearer,
he might learn what set them a-dancing.
"Ha!" he ejaculated, struck with some sudden thought. "I know now;
there's a snake at them."
This conjecture--for it was only a conjecture--caused him to stop short.
It might be some venomous snake, thought he. The grass was not long,
and he could have seen a very large snake; but still a small coral
snake, or the little poisonous viper, might have been there. He fancied
he saw something moving; but to get a better view he passed slowly
around the edge of the glade, until he was nearly on the opposite side
to that where he had entered. He still kept at a good distance from the
ais, but as yet discovered no snake.
To his great surprise, the ais now lay stretched along the grass, their
struggles appeared each moment to grow less violent, and their
melancholy cries became weaker and weaker. Their contortions at length
came to an end. A feeble effort to raise themselves alone could be
perceived,--then a spasmodic motion of their long crooked limbs,--their
cries became indistinct; and, after a while, both lay motionless and
silent! Were they dead? Surely so, thought Leon.
He stood gazing at them for some minutes. Not a motion of their bodies
could be perceived. Surely they no longer lived! But, then, what could
have killed them? There was no snake to be seen; no animal of any kind
except themselves! Had they been taken with some sudden disease,--some
kind of convulsions that had ended fatally? This seemed the most
probable thing, judging from the odd manner in which they had acted.
Maybe they had eaten some sort of plant that had poisoned them!
These conjectures passed rapidly through the mind of Leon. Of course,
he resolved to satisfy himself as to the cause of their death, if dead
they actually were. He began to draw nearer, making his advances with
stealth and caution--as he was still apprehensive about the snake.
After he had made a few paces in a forward direction, he began to
perceive something moving around the bodies of the animals. Snakes?
No. What then? A few paces nearer. See! the whole ground is in
motion. The bodies of the ais, though dead, are covered with living,
moving objects! Ha! _it is a "chacu" of the white ants_.
Leon now comprehended the whole affair. The ground was literally alive
with the terrible _termites_. They had made their foray, or "chacu," as
it is called, from the neighbouring cones; they had attacked the
helpless ais, and put them to death, with their poisonous stings!
Already they were tearing them to pieces, and bearing them off to their
dark caves! So thick were they on the bodies of the animals, that the
latter had suddenly changed their colour, and now appeared to be nothing
more than living heaps of crawling insects!
It was a hideous sight to behold, and Leon felt his flesh creep as he
looked upon it. Still he felt a curiosity to witness the result, and he
stood watching the busy crowd that had gathered about the ais. He had
heard strange accounts of these white ants; how that, in a few minutes,
they will tear the carcasses of large animals to pieces, and carry them
away to their dens; and he was determined to prove the truth of this by
observation. He did not go any nearer, for he was not without some
dread of these ugly creatures; but, happening to find himself beside a
small tree, with low horizontal branches, he climbed up, and sat down
upon one of the branches, resting his feet upon another. He was
inclined to take the thing as easily as possible. His perch commanded a
full view of the operations of the termites, and for a long time he sat
watching them with interest. He could see that it was not the same set
that were always on the carcasses of the ais. On the contrary, one host
were always leaving the spot, while another took their places, and from
the great conical houses fresh bands appeared to issue. In fact, two
great parallel belts of them, like army columns, stretched from the
"hills" to the ais, going in opposite directions. Those which travelled
towards the cells presented a very different appearance to the others.
These were loaded with pieces of torn flesh, or skin with tufts of hair
adhering to it; and each ant carried a piece by far larger than its own
body. Their bodies, in fact, were quite hidden under their
disproportionate burdens. The others--those which were coming from the
conical hills--were empty-handed, and presented the appearance of a
whitish stream flowing along the surface of the ground!
It was a most singular sight; and Leon sat watching the creatures until
his head was giddy, and he felt as though the ground itself was in
motion.
CHAPTER TWENTY FIVE.
THE PUMA AND THE GREAT ANT-BEAR.
All at once the attention of the boy was called away from the crawling
millions. A rustling among some dead leaves was heard. It appeared to
proceed from the edge of the glade, not far from the ant-hills. The
branches of the underwood were seen to move, and the next moment a
slender cylindrical object, about a foot and a half in length, was
protruded out from the leaves. Had there not been a pair of small eyes
and ears near the farther end of this cylindrical object, no one would
have taken it for the head and snout of an animal. But Leon saw the
little sparkling black eyes, and he therefore conjectured that it was
some such creature. The next moment the body came into view, and a
singular creature it was. It was about the size of a very large
Newfoundland dog, though of a different shape. It was covered all over
with long brownish hair, part of which looked so coarse as to resemble
dry grass or bristles. On each shoulder was a wide stripe of black,
bordered with whitish bands; and the tail, which was full three feet
long, was clothed with a thick growth of coarse hair, several inches in
length, that looked like strips of whalebone. This was carried aloft,
and curving over the back. But the most curious feature of the animal
was its snout. Talk of the nose of a greyhound. It would be a "pug" in
comparison! That of this animal was full twice as long, and not half so
thick, with a little mouth not over an inch in size, and without a
single tooth! It was certainly the oddest snout Leon had ever seen.
The legs, too, were remarkable. They were stout and thick, the hinder
ones appearing much shorter than the fore-legs; but this was because the
creature in its hind feet was _plantigrade_, that is, it walked with the
whole of its soles touching the surface, which only bears and a few
other sorts of quadrupeds do. Its fore-feet, too, were oddly placed
upon the ground. They had four long claws upon each, but these claws,
instead of being spread out, as in the dog or cat, were all folded
backward along the sole, and the creature, to avoid treading on them,
actually walked on the sides of its feet! The claws were only used for
scraping up the ground, and then it could bring them forward in a
perpendicular position, like the blade of a hoe, or the teeth of a
garden-rake. Of course, with feet furnished in such an out-of-the-way
fashion, the animal moved but slowly over the ground. In fact it went
very slowly, and with a stealthy pace.
Although Leon had never seen the creature before, he had read about it,
and had also seen pictures of it. He knew it, therefore, at a glance.
That proboscis-looking snout was not to be mistaken. It could belong to
no other creature than the _tamanoir_, or _great ant-eater_, by the
people of South America called the _ant-bear_ (_Myrmecophaga jubata_).
It was, in fact, that very thing; but to Leon's astonishment, as soon as
it got fairly out of the bushes, he noticed a singular-looking hunch
upon its back, just over the shoulder. At first he could not make out
what this was, as he had never heard of such a protuberance, besides,
the tail half hid it from his view. All of a sudden the animal turned
its head backwards, touched the hunch with its snout, gave itself a
shake, and then the odd excrescence fell to the ground, and proved to be
a young ant-eater, with bushy tail and long snout, the "very image of
its mother." The large one was thus seen to be a female that had been
carrying her infant upon her shoulders.
It was close to one of the ant-hills where the old tamanoir placed her
young upon the ground, and turning away from it, she approached the
great cone. Erecting herself upon her hind-feet, she stood with the
fore ones resting against the hill, apparently examining it, and
considering in what part of it the shell or roof was thinnest and
weakest. These cones, composed of agglutinated sand and earth, are
frequently so stoutly put together that it requires a pickaxe or crowbar
to break them open. But the ant-eater knew well that her fore-feet were
armed with an implement equal to either pick or crow, and she would
certainly have made a hole there and then, had she not noticed, on
looking around to the other side, that the inhabitants of the hill were
all abroad upon one of their forays. This seemed to bring about a
sudden change in her determination, and, dropping her fore-feet to the
ground, she once more threw up her great tail, and returned to where she
had left her young one. Partly pushing it before her with her snout,
and partly lifting it between her strong fore-arms, she succeeded in
bringing the latter to the border of the path along which travelled the
ants. Here she squatted down, and placed herself so that the point of
her nose just touched the selvedge of the swarming hosts, having caused
the youngster by her side to do the same. Then throwing out a long
worm-like tongue, which glittered with a viscous coating, she drew it
back again covered with ants. These passed into her mouth, and thence,
of course, into her capacious stomach. The tongue, which was more than
a foot in length, and nearly as thick as a quill, was again thrown out,
and again drawn back, and this operation she continued, the tongue
making about two "hauls" to every second of time! Now and then she
stopped eating, in order to give some instructions to the little one
that was seen closely imitating her, and with its more slender tongue
dealing death among the _termites_.
So very comic was the sight that Leon could not help laughing at it, as
he sat upon his perch.
An end, however, was put to his merriment, by the sudden appearance of
another animal--one of a different character. It was a large cat-like
creature, of a reddish-yellow, or tawny colour, long body and tail,
round head, with whiskers, and bright gleaming eyes. Leon had seen that
sort of animal before. He had seen it led in strings by Indians through
the streets of Cuzco, and he at once recognised it. It was the _Puma_--
the maneless lion of America.
The specimens which Leon had seen with the Indians had been rendered
tame and harmless. He knew that, but he had also been told that the
animal in its wild state is a savage and dangerous beast. This is true
of the puma in some districts, while in others the creature is cowardly,
and will flee at the sight of man. In all cases, however, when the puma
is brought to bay, it makes a desperate fight, and both dogs and men
have been killed in the attack.
Leon had not been frightened at the tamanoir. Even had it been a savage
creature, he knew it could not climb a tree--though there are two
smaller species of ant-bears in South America that can--and he therefore
knew he was quite safe on his perch. But his feelings were very
different when the red body of the puma came in sight. It could run up
the smoothest, trunk in the forest with as much ease and agility as a
cat, and there would be no chance of escaping from it if it felt
disposed to attack him. Of this the boy was fully conscious, and no
wonder he was alarmed.