All this time, from the river, came the same weird cries that had
mystified them. What with these cries and Muldoon’s lusty yells for
help, had there been an enemy within a mile they must have heard them,
but luckily they were in a territory known to be peaceable, although
Salloo was not quite so sure of some of the tribes who had a bad
reputation as “head hunters.”
“He’s stuck in the mud!” exclaimed Jack, and was starting forward to
Muldoon’s assistance when Salloo grabbed his arm.
“No go,” he warned, “him mud velly bad. Make drown in mud plitty quick
no get helpee.”
The native began making his way by a circuitous route toward the
luckless Muldoon. In his hand he had a long rope. He leaped from tuft to
tuft of the hummocks that appeared above the black soil. As soon as he
got close enough to Muldoon he threw the struggling boatswain the end of
the line, which Muldoon had presence of mind enough to place under his
arm-pits. Then Salloo skipped nimbly back to the trail and all laying
hold with a will they soon hauled Muldoon out of his disagreeable
predicament, although he was a sorry sight to look at.
“But faith,” he exclaimed, “it’s glad enough I am to know O’im not dead
intirely. A little mud will soon dry and clean off, begob.”
“Tropical places are full of just such treacherous swamps,” declared
Captain Sparhawk. “It will be well for all of us to be very careful and
not leave the trail except by Salloo’s advice.”
But now the strange wailing sound which they had for the moment
forgotten in the excitement of Muldoon’s rescue again startled them. The
cause of it was quickly explained by Salloo.
“Him _dugong_, allee samee sea-cow,” he said.
“Oh, I know now—like the manitou they have in Florida,” cried Jack.
“Me no know 'bout man or two,” said Salloo, “but him big an’mul. Live in
river. Makee noise like heap cryee allee timee.”
“It sounds as if somebody was being murdered,” commented Raynor.
“However, I guess we’re not the first people to be scared by the
dinner-gong, or whatever you call it.”
The halt for the noon-day meal was made in a pleasant grove of tropical
trees which stood on safe rising ground to one side of the trail. All
the white members of the party were glad enough of the chance to take a
rest, but the wiry natives appeared to be perfectly fresh and strong as
when they set out, despite their heavy burdens. While the natives began
cooking their rice and salted fish, with a sort of curry sauce, Salloo
set about making a fire for the whites. With marvelous dexterity he
twirled a stick between his outspread hands against some dry tinder and
soon had a good blaze going. The boys scattered to get wood, of which
they soon had a sufficient quantity. Then, determined to make the most
of their halt, they flung themselves down under a peculiarly fine tree
with wide, dark green leaves, glossy as polished leather.
They were chatting about the incidents of the trip so far when Jack all
at once felt something strike him on the arm. His first impression was
that it was a stone. But on looking at the place where he had been
struck he saw that the sleeve of his shirt, for he had laid aside his
khaki coat, had been ripped in parallel lines as if a curry comb, with
sharp teeth, had been drawn down it. He felt a sharp pain moreover, and
then he saw blood on his arm.
Billy had sprung up in alarm at his sharp exclamation of pain, and was
peering into the brush in the dread of seeing savage faces peering at
them. His shout of alarm brought them all, including Salloo, on the run
to Jack’s side. The boy explained what had occurred and the faces of the
whites grew grave. If they were attacked at this early stage of the
journey it augured ill for the remainder of their adventure.
But Salloo speedily solved the mystery. Lying on the ground beside Jack
was a green, oval-shaped ball, about the size of those projectiles that
one sees stacked by memorial cannons in our country. But this missile
was covered with sharp spikes like the spines of a hedgehog. Salloo
pointed up into the beautiful tree under which they had cast themselves
down to rest.
“Nobody throw him,” he explained, “him big fruit, some callum Durion
nut. You comee way from there. One hittee you headee your blains getee
knocked out.”
“They deserve to be for getting up a scare like that,” laughed Jack,
who, like Billy, stepped hastily from under the dangerous tree. “It
seems to be a pretty good idea in this country to be always on the look
out. Even nature seems to have it in for you.”
Jack’s arm was doctored by Captain Sparhawk, for it was quite painful,
but luckily the spines of the durion, sometimes called the Jack fruit,
are not poisonous and it was soon all right again. But during the
noon-day meal, which was then ready, when they heard the crashing of nut
after nut from the durion tree, both boys felt they had had a very lucky
escape from having their skulls fractured.
“Be jabers,” commented Muldoon, “shure o’ive been in a hurricane where
the blocks and tackle that was ripped from aloft made yez skip around
loively to dodge thim, but this is the first toime thot iver I heard of
a three throwing things at yez as if ye was a nigger dodger at a fair.”
“You’ll discover stranger things than that, Muldoon, before we have been
very long in New Guinea,” said Captain Sparhawk.
“Faith, so long as they’re not snakes, oi dunno thot I care much,” said
the Irishman. “Begob, o’im thinking that St. Pathrick would be a good
man to have along in a counthry where the craturs are. Wun wave uv his
sthick and away they’d all go, bad luck to thim.”