THE FORT ON THE MARAÑON.
For several minutes after the camp was astir the Peruvian stood near one
of the openings, and placing a hand partly back of an ear, so that more
sound waves might reach that organ, he listened intently, in hopes that
he might determine whether the Majeronas were on the move or still in
camp. But in early day they are not given to making as much noise as at
night, when that wild chant, considered part of a religious ceremony,
rolls out, and the captain turned to his companions, disappointed.
Then, as all were hungry, another ration was consumed by each, and as
there was plenty of cool water in the skin no one was called upon to
risk a trip to the river. They continued conversing in whispers and
observed the same caution as on the evening before. Unless they gave
thought to the cause, their low tones seemed very strange and
unnecessary, for nothing was in evidence to remind them of the presence
in the vicinity of savages; not even did smoke rise from the place where
they were encamped. Soon after breakfast Harvey said to Señor Cisneros:—
“If you will permit me, captain, I will crawl over to that tree,” and he
pointed to one whose lower branches were near the ground, yet whose
trunk rose to quite a height, “and by climbing I can see what the
Indians are doing. The leaves are thick so that I shall be well hidden,
and my suit is about the color of the bark.”
The plan was approved and the boy left the camp, imitating the manner in
which Señor Cisneros had made his journeys of the evening before. The
three within the enclosure looked at him approvingly, and the Peruvian
said: “He worms his way along as well as an experienced woodsman. That’s
a very clever lad.”
“Indeed, he is,” said Hope-Jones, “and a more truthful, honest youngster
I never met.”
They watched the tree which Harvey had spoken of as his goal, and before
long they saw something moving in the branches, but very slowly, for the
boy was observing even more caution than when on the ground. After ten
minutes’ careful climbing he reached a spot halfway to the top, where
the branches were fewer, and there he stopped, evidently at a sufficient
altitude to look over the intervening boulders and see the camp of the
Majeronas. He was stationary for a few seconds, then they saw him
commence to descend, but no longer slowly and with caution; he came down
hand below hand, and when he reached the ground he ran to the camp, not
attempting to observe the quiet which had marked his departure.
Knowing that he must have good cause for alarm and feeling that an
attack was possibly imminent, the three men stood at a “ready” in the
openings, their weapons poised. When Harvey joined them he said quickly,
but in low tones:—
“A half dozen of the savages are coming this way. They were not far off
when I left the tree and were moving slowly, looking closely at the
ground, as if in search of something. The others are still in camp.”
Saying this, Harvey picked up his shot-gun.
“You say they are walking slowly and looking down, as if in search of
something?”
“Yes, captain. They were bent low, and at first I thought they were
crawling; then I saw that they appeared to be examining the ground as
they passed.”
“Hum! I suppose they found my trail. The copper-colored rascals have a
scent as keen as a dog. But I think that I fooled them.”
“How so?” asked Ferguson.
“I took to the water when halfway between the camps and waded for a
couple of hundred yards.”
“Then you don’t think that they will be able to track you?”
“No. But they may search the neighborhood before they leave.”
“Harvey reports the main body still at the white rock. How do you
account for that?”
“The band is undoubtedly resting for the day. It is probable that the
savages have travelled some distance and have called a forty-eight
hours’ halt. I can think of no other reason, for surely there could be
no game to attract them in this vicinity, and there is no hostile tribe
near for them to attack.”
“You don’t suppose they are in search of the gold, do you?” asked
Harvey.
“Gold! They don’t know what gold is. They are the most ignorant Indians
in all Peru.”
This whispered conversation was suddenly brought to an end by Ferguson,
who placed his fingers on his lips, to enjoin silence, and pointed
through the opening nearest the river. They looked in the direction, and
saw a head projecting beyond a rock. It was the head of a Majerona, long
black hair, and skin a light copper color. The savage looked up and down
stream, then was lost to sight for a moment, and soon stood out in the
open, where he was joined by several others.
They were naked, save for strips of hide that served as loin cloths.
They were tall, well-formed men, straight and muscular: each held a long
bow, and dependent from the belt of hide, instead of swung over the
shoulder, was a quiver filled with arrows. The cannibal who had first
thrust out his head had done so cautiously, as if to survey the country,
but they soon became bold, evidently convinced that they were alone.
First, they took a few steps up stream, at which the white men tightened
their grips on the weapons, and then, for some reason, they turned about
and hurried away.
“Whew! that was a narrow escape!” muttered Ferguson.
“Yes; and I fear it will prove no escape after all. They were sent out
to scout, and another band undoubtedly will be despatched in a little
while. The chances are against our not being seen, and as the
probability is that we will have to fight, I propose that we make our
fort better suited for defence. Harvey, fill every pot, pan, and cup we
have with water. Don’t try to crawl; only step as softly as possible so
as not to cause stones to roll and dry branches to break. Hope-Jones and
Ferguson, I wish you would go to that drift pile over there, and bring
me all the branches and wood possible. You cannot bring too much.”
They at once commenced their allotted tasks, and the señor remained
behind the boulders, keeping an eye down stream, and at the same time
directing where the wood should be placed as it was brought in. First,
he had the openings between the rocks carefully filled, to the height of
his shoulders, the pieces of wood interlaced in the same manner that log
fences are built in the American farming country. This done, he gave
orders for wood to be piled at the rear of their position. It will be
remembered that the boulders formed a shelter on three sides, and
Ferguson and Hope-Jones, seeing at once that the Peruvian’s idea was to
close the fourth, redoubled their efforts, and within a half hour they
had brought in what they deemed sufficient material to erect the
barricade.
“More!” the captain said, when they asked him if that would do. “Bring
all of that pile if you can.”
Harvey had finished his task by this time, and placing him on guard,
Señor Cisneros turned his attention to shaping the rear defence. He
constructed the wall V-shaped, the angle outward, explaining to the boy
that in this form it could better withstand the force of an attack,
should the Indians try to rush the position. But the longest boughs he
placed slanting against the high boulders, so that they formed a roof
over half the space. These he wove in and out with a tough young vine
that he had directed Ferguson to bring from a tree near by, and which
had fallen in a mass when a slight pull had been given.
An hour after they had commenced their task, the captain said there was
sufficient wood on hand, and Hope-Jones and Ferguson, tired, red of
face, and perspiring profusely, pushed in through the narrow opening
that had been left for their entrance, which the Peruvian at once closed
with some branches that he had placed to one side for that purpose.
Ferguson had cut his left hand, and the handkerchief which he had wound
around the injured member was blood stained. When he was asked if the
cut was a deep one, he replied by saying that it was lucky it had not
happened to the other, or he would have trouble holding his rifle. Then
he questioned Señor Cisneros why he had formed a roof over part of the
enclosure.
“To be sure it’s nice to have shade,” he said, “but I should have
thought you too tired to attend to that.”
“And might have had mercy on you two and not have asked you to carry in
more boughs than absolutely necessary, eh?” responded the captain,
smiling.
“I didn’t say that.”
“No; but I wouldn’t blame you for thinking it. However, this little roof
will probably prove more valuable than any defence we have constructed.”
“How so?”
“Did you ever see a Peruvian Indian shoot an arrow? an Ayuli, or a man
of any other tribe?”
No. They had not.
“I have watched them many times; and I have seen them kill a deer and
not aim at it at all; only shoot up in the air.”
“And the arrow would describe a parabola and fall on the animal?”
“Its flight would rather be the sides of a triangle, and it would turn
in mid air at the apex, then falling at the same angle on the other
side, would strike the deer in the back.”
“Have you seen this done?”
“Yes; and not once, but several times.”
“Then I can understand why you built the covering!” exclaimed
Hope-Jones; and so did the others.
As the three men were quite tired, the captain let Harvey stand guard,
and they lay down in the shade. Thus another hour passed, and not a
sight of an Indian was had, nor did a sound come from down the river.
Toward noon the rations of dried meat were passed around, and so was
water, sparingly. After that they talked and waited, relieving each
other at the opening near the river every half hour, in order that all
might be in good condition should an attack occur.
One o’clock came, two, then three, and the little garrison commenced to
speculate on the probability of danger having passed. Perhaps the band
had gone away; it might be that the savages they had seen in the morning
had been recalled to camp in order to resume the march; or, perhaps all
were resting, and no further attempt was being made to reconnoitre the
surrounding country. In that event they would undoubtedly leave early
the next morning. But even after the Majeronas had departed, how long
would they have to remain quiet and on the defensive before they dared
approach the location of the mine?
“I would almost rather have a fight with them; that is, if we could give
them such a taste of modern firearms that they would leave the country,”
said Señor Cisneros, rising from the place where he had been resting in
the shade.
He approached the opening that faced the thinly grown forest, and gazed
over the brushwood that was piled as a protection, in the direction of
the trees. They saw him bend forward, as one is apt to do when looking
intently at something, and then, turning, he beckoned Ferguson to his
side.
“Look,” he whispered. “Do you see that long grass waving over there,
under that ironwood tree?”
“Yes. I guess it is wind blown.”
“But there isn’t a particle of wind. Wet your finger and hold your hand
up high.”
The American did so. “No,” he said. “There’s no breeze. What makes the
grass wave, then?”
“One of those copper-skinned rascals is crawling through it,” said the
captain.
“Shall I pick him off?” and Ferguson reached for his rifle.
“By no means.” The señor reached out his hand and caught the barrel. “We
are not sure that they have seen us, although such is probably the case.
Aside from that, I would rather not be the first to engage. But a better
reason than all is that we should reserve our fire, if firing be
necessary, until we can let go a volley into their midst. It might
stampede them.
“Ah! see!” he exclaimed a moment later. “My first surmise was correct.”
The Indian had risen suddenly from the grass and had bent his bow. But
the arrow was not aimed in their direction; it was pointed toward the
woods, away from the river bank, and that moment Ferguson saw a young
deer near a dwarf palm. Sharp and clear they heard the twang of the
hide-string and the whistle of the dart, so near was the savage to them;
and the animal fell dead in its tracks. The Majerona walked leisurely
over to where his prey had dropped, and lifting it on his broad
shoulders, he started back to camp.
“He is a hunter for the band,” said the captain. “There are probably
others out. His actions are proof that they do not even suspect we are
in the vicinity. I suppose they think that my trail, which they followed
for a short distance this morning, was that of a wild animal. Now I
believe that we are going to get out of this without even a brush with
them.”
All breathed easier at these reassuring words; all except Harvey, who
said, “But there is a chance they may come, is there not?”
“Why, from your tone, I really believe you wish they would,” said the
señor. “But,” he added, “that chance and a remark which I made to Mr.
Ferguson have reminded me of something. I believe I said that a volley
might have a demoralizing effect, did I not?”
“Yes; I think you did.”
“Then I shall endeavor to increase the effect. Didn’t I see a gourd in
camp?”
“Harvey has one which Señora Cisneros gave him.”
“Let me have it, Harvey. I can’t promise to return it, but I may make it
of use.”
He emptied some powder into the receptacle, then asked for a
contribution of loaded shells, which he put with the black grains. With
some shreds of cotton, which he twisted into shape, and some dampened
powder he made a fuse and placed it in the opening of the gourd, then
sealed it with moist clay made from the soil underfoot, dampened with
water.
“There!” he exclaimed, “there’s a bomb! It may fail to ignite, and it
will have to be handled quickly, but if it ever does go off in the midst
of the copper-skins there will be a foot-race down the river that will
prove interesting.”
He had been an hour making this weapon of defence. The hands of their
watches pointed to four o’clock, and the shadows to the east of them
commenced to grow long. Ferguson was on watch. The others were lolling
about on the ground, thinking more of other matters than they had at any
time since the evening before, when they were suddenly startled by a
rifle shot.
An answering scream came from above their heads, and a wounded Majerona,
who had crawled to the top of the lowest boulder and was peering into
the camp, came rolling down upon them.