A THRILLING ADVENTURE
Dave had fallen down a hole covered with a thin network of branches and
leaves. He knew it to be a trap, a pitfall, as he began his descent.
There was a strong rancid smell about the spot, and the earth and the
branches were thickly covered with grease.
Dave went shooting, feet first, down a smooth slant. He landed with a
shock. Then he rebounded, lost his balance, and fell flat.
With a thrill he struck something moving, something that grunted, and
tore away from him. It seemed covered with sharp, ugly bristles that
had penetrated his hands like thorns.
Dave sprang to his feet in alarm. Fierce echoing grunts filled the
place, a pit of considerable size. He quickly drew out a match and
flared it.
"A wild boar," said Dave, and as he took in his situation he was swept
off his feet with a new shock.
The momentary illumination had fully apprized Dave of his environment.
The pit was a trap, its entrance scented and greased to attract victims.
A strong home-made rope was attached to a stake in its center. Its end
was a loop. This loop now inclosed the neck of the boar, choking and
imprisoning it. In fact, the fierce animal was fairly frantic.
The loop must have been placed in some way near to decoy food,
tightening and securing its victim at a touch.
Now rushing around, the boar had swept Dave off his footing with the
taut rope at which it struggled. It was upon him in an instant. Mad
with pain and fright it tried to gore and crush him.
Dave managed to roll and squirm beyond its reach. Breathless and
bewildered, he hurriedly drew out his pocket knife, opening its largest
blade.
With blazing eyes the maddened animal made another rush at Dave. He
went flat. Its tusk penetrated a double thickness of his clothing. It
tugged at him, panting, grunting, squealing.
Snip-snip--Dave was all mixed up in the rope, almost helplessly at the
mercy of the animal. He slashed out with the knife, but struck the rope
instead of the boar.
The rope parted. Dave was dragged over the pit floor, his clothing
firmly held by the spike-like tusk of the boar.
He had to go along, whether he would or not. Dave grasped one bristly
ear of the boar.
"Whew!" he uttered, mind and body in such a turmoil that he could not
realize what had happened till it was all over.
The boar, freed, had made a dash out of the pit. It seemed to Dave that
it took some avenue of exit different to the slant down which he himself
had tumbled into the pit.
At all events, he found himself in the open air, but borne along at a
terrific rate of speed. He could hardly cling to the animal.
He let go his grasp entirely as the boar scaled a rise and toppled over.
Dave, however, could not disengage his clothing. Then he was conscious
of rolling over and over. The big animal seemed to fade from view in a
swift flight. Dave's head struck something and he lost his senses.
When Dave came back to consciousness, there was no mistake as to his
situation. A single glance enlightened him.
A dozen natives were working around a charcoal fire. They seemed to be
hardening spear-heads, darts, and other weapons used by the Windjammers
as weapons of war.
Near by was a square hut. Its door stood open, the only aperture it
contained. Its top was flat and sunken, and leaning up against the
sides of this parapet-like inclosure Dave noticed numberless weapons.
Dave lay flat on the ground, feet and hands both tied. The wild boar
was nowhere in evidence. The natives were going on with their work.
"Weapon-makers," said Dave. "They seem to be finishing up their work,
for the fire is going out."
Finally one of the men--there were four of them--finished holding a lot
of spear-ends in the fire. He came and looked at Dave, discovered his
eyes were open, and spoke some quick words to him.
Dave shook his head to indicate that he did not understand. A few
minutes later all four men piled the various articles they had been
burning upon a sort of litter.
They seemed about to carry this into the hut. Each took a corner of the
litter.
Here something happened. Dave almost imagined himself in a dream, as he
saw a swift form burst from some bushes near at hand.
It was Daley. He was armed with a great knotted club. Evidently he had
been watching for just this opportunity to interest himself in behalf of
his young friend and overpower his captors.
The four natives employed at the litter had no time or chance to defend
themselves.
Whack! Whack! In turn two of them went flat with broken heads.
Whack! Whack! Their companions toppled over, and the litter fell to
the ground.
"Up with you," roared the giant sailor, a cyclone of strength and
resolution now.
He grabbed up Dave bodily, ran towards the hut, dropped Dave, closed the
door, barred it, and stood panting and trembling with excitement as he
proceeded to release his companion.
It was then that Dave Fearless made that fervid remark:
"Mr. Daley, you are a brave man!"