THE NATIVE VILLAGE.
Meanwhile, Fred Ashman and Aaron Johnston the sailor, found themselves
involved in a most stirring experience.
After studying the path or trail which led directly from the camp into
the vast forest, stretching to an unknown distance from the Xingu, the
young man decided to follow the route which he believed had been formed
by persons instead of the wild animals of the wilderness.
Johnston was disposed to complain, but he was deeply attached to the
manly partner in the exploring enterprise, and there was no reasonable
peril which he would not willingly face in his defence.
The forest wore an unusually gloomy and dismal appearance, now that the
sun had set and night was closing in.
The roar of the rapids, which at first sounded so loud, grew duller and
fainter as they penetrated the wood until it became like the moaning of
the distant ocean. The men spoke in guarded undertones and were able
to hear each other plainly, while eyes and ears were on the alert, for
the first sight or sound of danger.
Being within the forest, they were favored with but little of the
moonlight, which proved such a help to their friends in their ascent of
the bank of the Xingu to the head of the rapids. But here and there a
few of the rays penetrated the vegetation overhead and illuminated the
trail sufficiently to prevent their wandering from it.
Ashman was less than a rod in advance of the sailor and led until they
had traversed perhaps a fifth of a mile, during which they met no
living creature, though the noises from the wood left no doubt that
wild animals were on every hand.
Fred began to think he had gone far enough, though his wish to obtain a
glimpse of the village, which he believed was not far off, prevented
his coming to a full stop. Johnston noticing his hesitation put in
another vigorous protest, but he was easily persuaded to venture
further under the pledge that if they discovered nothing within the
next ten minutes, they would withdraw and return to camp.
Knowing that his companion would insist on the fulfillment of this
agreement, Fred pushed on faster than before; the sailor, however,
easily maintaining his place almost on his heels. It was only at
intervals they spoke, for there was no call to do so, and it was not
wise to allow any cause to interfere with their watchfulness for the
peril which was liable to come with the suddenness of the thunderbolt.
By stepping carefully they were able to proceed without noise, and, at
the same time, hoped to catch the sound of any other footsteps, since
there was not supposed to be any call on the part of the natives for
the caution which they might have displayed under different
circumstances.
The young man's heart gave a quicker throb than usual when he caught
the sound of something like a shout, and observed a faint light in the
path in front. It was apparent that the latter made an abrupt turn,
and the cause of the noise was but a brief distance beyond.
Fred reached back his hand and touched his companion, as a warning for
the most extreme care on his part, but the admonition was not needed.
Johnston understood the situation too well.
Sure enough, less than a couple of rods further, and the path turned
almost at right angles. Passing guardedly around this, the explorers
came upon a striking scene.
There was an open space with an area of perhaps three or four acres; it
was as clear of trees as a stretch of western prairie. It was
triangular in shape, the boundary being so regular that there could be
no doubt it was artificially made.
Around three sides of this space were erected huts or cabins, the
excellence and similarity or their structure suggesting that the
natives were the superior in intelligence of any that had yet been
encountered during the ascent of the Xingu. The huts were a dozen feet
square, half as high, and each had a broad open entrance in the middle
of the front. They seemed to be built of logs or heavy limbs, the
roofs being flat and composed of the branches of trees, overlaid with
leaves and earth.
In the middle of the open square was a tall pole, like an immense
flag-staff. The light which had been noticed sometime before by the
whites was the full flood of the moon's rays, there being no other kind
of illumination, so far as they could ascertain, in the native village.
The huge pole was without any limbs or appurtenances, but around the
space were gathered a score of figures in rapid motion, the meaning of
whose actions was a puzzle to the white spectators, until they studied
them.
Then it was seen they were struggling together, and the conclusion was
that they were engaged in some kind of a rough sport, for all the rest
of the savages were seated in front of their huts watching the singular
spectacle.
Naturally they ought to have come closer, and the fact that they did
not, suggested that they kept back to give the actors plenty of room
for their performances.
Not the least impressive feature of the scene was the profound silence
which marked it. The shout that first arrested the attention of Ashman
and his companion, must have been some kind of a signal, probably
announcing the opening of the proceedings.
It was evident that the villagers in the square were struggling hard,
for their forms were interlocked and they were divided into two lines,
which swayed back and forth as one gained or yielded ground.
"It is a wrestling bout," whispered Ashman to his companion, and then,
reflecting that their situation was dangerous, the two stopped from the
path among the trees, where they would not be noticed by any passing
near.
Suddenly something like a groan was heard from the body of contesting
men. Almost at the same instant, a command was shouted from the
further end of the square, where part of the spectators were gathered.
The two lines fell apart, and ran silently and swiftly to opposite
points a hundred feet distant, where they abruptly halted as if in
obedience to some signal and faced each other.
This was stirring enough, but that which riveted the eyes of the white
men was the sight of three figures lying prone on the ground, at the
foot of the pole.
They were as motionless as so many stones. There could be no mistaking
the significance of the sight: they were dead.
It may have been some species of sport in which the actors were engaged
for the entertainment of the spectators, but, if so, there was an awful
earnestness about it, for the stake for which they strove was human
life.
The two lines faced each other but a moment, when another shout rang
out, and they rushed together once more with the fury of two cyclones.
By this time, our friends had discovered that no member of the parties
was furnished with any weapon other than those provided by nature.
Fearful then must have been the struggle, which had already terminated
in the death of three of the contestants.
But they were at it again with the fierceness of so many cougars
fighting in defence of their young.
The result was terrifying. The contest had lasted but a few minutes,
and already a couple were on the earth, when one of the combatants,
with a cry of pain dashed in almost a direct line toward the spot where
our friends were hiding.
Had he not been overtaken and dragged back, he would have been upon
them before they could get out of the way, and it is not difficult to
conjecture what would have followed.
The miserable wretch, however, was seized on the very edge of the wood
by four others and carried writhing and resisting back to the space.
There he was flung down, and, being unable to rise, the others leaped
upon him and in a few minutes all was over. He was added to the list
that were already _hors du combat_.
Ashman and Johnston had received a shock which drove away all interest
in the fearful spectacle. Their escape was exceedingly narrow and they
could scarcely hope for such good fortune again.
Fred touched his friend and whispered to him. Immediately, they began
stealing from the dangerous spot.