THE KILL IN THE JUNGLE.
It was growing darker every minute in the jungle, for there were now
fleecy clouds in the sky, and the moon was not always in sight. Following
Jimmie's statement that they were lost, the boys stood stock still in a
dense thicket and tried once more to get their bearings.
"We've got something figured out wrong," Peter said.
"I don't see how we have," Jimmie insisted. "See here! That is the moon up
there? What?"
"Looks like it."
"Then it's got lost," Jimmie continued. "Ever stand behind the scenes in a
theatre and hold a moon up on a stick?"
"Never did."
"Well, I did, on the Bowery, once, and I got so interested in what was
goin' on in front that the moon set in the east. That's what's the matter
with this moon. Some--"
"There ain't no supe holding up this moon on a stick."
"Then they've moved the Panama canal," insisted Jimmie. "If they hadn't,
we would have come to the cut a long time ago. That moon is supposed to be
in the south. It ought to be."
"Perhaps a little west of south."
"Well, we crossed over the ditch down here, didn't we, and struck into the
jungle from the west side of the Culebra cut?"
"Of course we did."
"Then if we keep the moon in the south, on our right, we'll come back to
the cut?"
"Sure. Anyway, we ought to."
"Well, Old Top, we've been walkin' for the last two hours with the moon on
our right, and we haven't got anywhere, have we? You don't see no lights
ahead of us, do you?"
There were no signs of the big cut. The great lights which blazed over the
workings were not to be seen. The noises of the digging, the dynamiting,
the pounding of the steam shovels, the nervous tooting of the dirt trains,
might have been a thousand miles away.
"You've got to show me," Peter said, after studying over the matter for a
moment. "That moon isn't on no stick on a Bowery stage. It is there in the
south, where it belongs, and if we continue to keep it on our right we'll
come to the canal in time. We are farther away than we thought for."
They struggled on through the jungle for another half hour, and then
stopped while Jimmie looked reproachfully at the moon.
"I'd like to know what kind of a country this is, anyway," he grumbled. "I
never saw the moon get off on a tear before."
"Except when you had it on the end of a stick," said Peter, with a noise
which was intended for a laugh, but which sounded more like a sigh of
disgust.
"Well, we've got to stay here until morning," Jimmie said, presently, "and
I'm so hungry that I could eat a boa constrictor right now."
"Quit!" cried Peter. "Don't talk about snakes, or you'll bring them down
on us."
"That was coarse, wasn't it?" observed Jimmie. "Well, I'll withdraw the
remark."
"If we stay here until morning," Peter said, dubiously, "how do we know
the sun won't rise in the west?"
"All right," Jimmie replied. "Guy me if you want to, but you'll find this
is no joke before we get through with it."
"I know that now," Peter replied. "I never was so tired in my life, and
I'd give a ten-dollar note for a drink of cold water."
The boys sat down on dry tree knuckles, buttressed roots rising three feet
from the soil, and discussed the situation gravely. After a short time
Peter got up with a start and began prancing about the little free space
where they were.
"I've got it!" he cried. "We're both chumps."
"They usually act that way when they're dyin' of hunger an' thirst,"
Jimmie said, dolefully. "Keep quiet, an' you'll feel better in a short
time."
"But I know which way to go now," Peter insisted.
"Oh, yes, I know. You're goin' to tell which is north by the moss on the
trees. Or you're goin' to tell which way is northeast by the way the
breeze lays the bushes. Or you're goin' to make a compass out of the dial
of your watch. I've read all about it. But we're stuck, just the same, not
knowin' the constellations."
"Stuck--nothing," cried Peter. "Look here. Which way does the Panama canal
run?"
"North and south, across the Isthmus, of course."
"There's where you're wrong! From Gatun to Panama the line of the cut is
more east and west than north and south. Now revise your opinion of the
moon. At this time of night she would be in the southwest."
"That would make a little difference," admitted Jimmie.
"Well, there you are. Take a line running southeast and a couple of chumps
going almost southeast by keeping a southwest object to the right, where
will they land? That's mixed, but I guess you know what it means. Where
would a couple of chumps find the southeast line?"
"About next week at two o'clock," cried Jimmie. "Come on. We'll start
right now, an' get out of the jungle before daylight."
In a few moments after taking a fresh start the boys came to a place where
a small body of water made a clearing in the forest. The little lake, or
swamp, for it was little more than a well-filled marsh, was of course
walled about by trees and climbing vines, but there was a lane to the
southwest which permitted the light of the moon to fall upon the water.
The surface of the pool was well covered with floating plants, and now and
then, as the boys looked through the undergrowth, a squirming thing ducked
under and out of sight. There was something beautiful about the spot, and
yet it was uncanny, too.
"I wish that was all right for a drink," Jimmie observed.
"It is all right for a drink--if you're tired of living," Peter said.
"Say," he added, pointing, "what do you think of that for a creeper, over
there? I'm sure I saw it climbing down off that tree."
Jimmie took one look and started away, drawing Peter with him.
"It's a python!" he exclaimed. "Come on."
"There are no pythons in this country," Peter replied, pulling back and
looking out over the water again.
"It is a boa, then," Jimmie cried. "Come away. It is getting out of the
tree!"
The boys did not move for a moment. They seemed to be fascinated by what
they saw. It was a serpent at least ten yards in length--a serpent showing
many bright colors, a thick, elongated head, a body at least ten inches in
diameter, and a blunt tail. As it moved down the column of the tree it
launched its head out level in the air as if anticipating a feast of Boy
Scout. The shining head, the small, vicious eyes, drew nearer to the faces
of the watchers, and it seemed as if the serpent was about to leap across
the pool.
Directly, however, the reptile threw its head and the upper part of its
body over a limb on a tree nearer to the boys and drew its whole squirming
body across.
"It is coming over here, all right," whispered Peter. "Can you hit it? A
bullet landed in that flat head might help some."
"Of course I can hit it."
Jimmie would not have admitted fright, but his voice was a trifle shaky.
It is no light thing for a boy reared on the pavements of New York to face
a serpent in the midst of a tropical forest at night.
"You shoot, then," Peter said. "I'll hold my fire until we see what
happens."
Jimmie drew his revolver and waited for a moment, as the head of the snake
was now in the shadow of the tree. When it came out again, still creeping
nearer to the boys, swaying, reaching out for another tree which would
have brought it within striking distance, the boy took careful aim and
fired.
There was a puff of smoke, the smell of burning powder, a great switching
in the branches of the tree. Peter seized Jimmie by the arm and drew him
back.
"If you didn't hit him he'll jump," the boy said.
When the smoke which had discolored the heavy air drifted away, they saw
the serpent still hanging from the limb, pushing his head out this way and
that and flashing a scarlet tongue at its enemies.
"You hit him, all right," Peter said. "Try again."
After the third shot the body of the serpent hung down from the tree with
only a stir of life. It was evident that at least one of the bullets had
found the brain.
"It will hang there until it decays," Peter said. "That tail will never
let go. Come on away. It makes me sick."
"There's always two where there's one," Jimmie said, "and we must move
cautiously, for there would be no release from the coils of a snake like
that."
"I thought I heard something moving in there a moment ago," Peter said,
pointing away from the pool. "I'll go in and see."
"Don't you stir," advised Jimmie. "There's some one in there. I heard
voices. We have been followed all this long way, and the shooting must
have located us."
This was a very natural conclusion, and the boys crept behind the bole of
a tree and waited for what seemed to them a long time. Then footsteps were
heard, soft, stealthy steps, like those of a man walking in padded
stockings. The great leaves of a huge plant with red blossoms moved, and a
pair of fierce eyes looked out.
"That's a panther," whispered Jimmie.
"A South American jaguar," Peter corrected. "They eat men when they get
desperately hungry."
The great cat moved out from behind the plant and stood in the shaft of
moonlight. It was a graceful beast, an alert, handsome creature of the
woods, but did not look in that way to the boys just then.
In size it was nearly the equal of the full grown tiger. The head was
large, the body thick yet supple, the limbs robust. In color it was of a
rich yellow, with black rings, in which stood black dots, marking the
sides.
The beast is known as the South American tiger, and is by far the most
powerful and dangerous of tropic beasts of prey. It is swift enough to
capture horses on the open pampas and strong enough to drag them away
after the kill. In some of the countries south of the Isthmus the jaguar
is a menace to the inhabitants, and settlements have been deserted because
of them. It is rarely that one is found as far north as the Isthmus.
While the boys watched the cat slipped out one soft paw after the other
and looked about, as if awakened from sleep. Then it moved toward the tree
behind which the boys were partly concealed.
"Now for it," whispered Peter. "If we miss it is all off with one of us."
"He may not come here," Jimmie said, hopefully. "He was probably brought
here by the smell of blood. Say! Don't you hear something back of us? This
cat's mate may be there."
And the cat's mate was there. Not looking in their direction, but sitting
up like a house cat, watching the swaying body of the serpent. Her nose
was pushed out a trifle, as if scenting supper in the dangling horror.
"The mate is here, all right," Peter said, in a whisper. "We're between
the two of them. What is the first one doing?"
"Coming on," whispered Jimmie, "and I've got only three shots in my gun."
"That's all you will have time to use if you miss the first one," Peter
said.
"That's right," Jimmie returned.
"And we'll have to shoot together," Peter went on.
"Is your hand steady?" asked Jimmie.
"As a rock," was the reply. "Good-bye to little old New York if it wasn't.
Funny notion that a jaguar should be trying to eat a Wolf and a Black
Bear."
"And a baby Wolf, too," added Jimmie. "My beast is coming on, bound to
investigate this tree. When he gets so close that he can spring I'll give
the word, and we'll shoot together."
The cat approached slowly. At first it did not seem to catch the scent of
prey in the neighborhood of the tree. It came on with cautious steps,
crouching low, as if ready to leap.
Then the female caught sight and scent of the boys and uttered a low cry
of warning which the male appeared to understand, for in a second its ears
were laid down on its neck and the belly touched the ground.
"When you shoot keep the lead going," advised Jimmy. "Now!"
Again, in that splendid tropical scene, there was a puff of smoke, one,
two, three, four. Again the odor of burned powder attacked the nostrils
and clouded the heavy air. Again there was a great floundering in the
thicket.
The boys stood waiting for the snarling impact, but none came.