A MYSTIFIED SENTINEL.
Jared Long, the New Englander, and Quincal, the native helper, were the
sentinels on duty in the immediate vicinity of the camp.
The professor was wearied from a hard day's work, and, feeling that
everything possible had been done for the safety of all, stretched out
upon his blanket on the soft ground and was soon asleep.
He expected to assume his duty as guardsman in the course of a few
hours, and needed all the rest he could get before that time.
Bippo and Pedros were so disturbed by what they had witnessed, that,
though they lay down at the same time, it was a good while before they
closed their eyes in slumber. Their homes were near the mouth of the
Xingu, and, even at that remote point, they had heard so many fearful
accounts of the ferocious savages that infested the upper portions of
the river, that they never would have dared to help in an attempt to
explore the region but for the liberal pay promised, and their
unbounded faith in the white men and their firearms.
The poor fellows would have given all they had, or expected to have, to
be transported down the Xingu and out of the reach of the terrible
natives who used their poisoned arrows and javelins with such effect;
but, behold! the explorers, undaunted by what had taken place, had no
thought of turning back, but were resolved to push on for an unknown
distance, and Bippo and his friends had no choice but to go with them,
for to run away would insure certain death at the hands of these people
who seemed to be all around them.
Jared Long had so little faith in the usefulness of the servant Quincal
as sentinel, that he arranged to place the least dependence possible on
him. With no supposition that any danger was likely to come from the
woods behind them, he sent the fellow a short distance back,
instructing him to keep his ears and eyes open, since if he failed to
do so, some wild animal was likely to devour him.
In crossing the Xingu below the falls, the rapid current had swept the
canoe downward, so that it lay against the bank at a point fully two
hundred yards below. It was here that the American stationed himself,
standing, like Fred Ashman, just far enough from the water to be
shrouded in the slight but increasing shadow made as the moon slowly
worked over and beyond the zenith.
Looking across to the other shore, he could discern nothing upon which
to hang a suspicion; but the first thing, perhaps trifling in itself,
which attracted notice, was the unusual quantity of driftwood which
appeared to be coming through the rapids and floating past.
As has been stated, in such a wooded country as the Matto Grasso there
was always more or less of this, and Long had taken a critical survey
of the rapids and noted the stuff which went plunging and dancing
through them. Now, however, he was sure there was an increase, and a
good deal of it consisted of large trees and logs, which must have been
brought down by some cause more than ordinary.
Had there been anything else to occupy his attention, the fact would
have escaped him, but the sentinel who is alive to his duty, notes
little things, even when they seem to have no bearing on the great
subject which engages all his energies.
It was a long way from the camp to the source of the Xingu, and in such
a vast country as Brazil, there might have been a violent storm raging
at that moment above and below them without the least evidence, so far
as they could see, around them. Like all countries, that portion of
empire is ravaged at times by fierce hurricanes and cyclones, which
might have uprooted scores of trees and flung them into the waters
which were now bearing them toward the Amazon and the broad Atlantic.
The sentinel naturally gave his chief attention to the other side of
the Xingu, where so many stirring scenes had taken place that afternoon
and evening. The camp-fire, which had been left burning, had
smouldered so low that none of the embers were discernible, and only a
thin column of smoke crept slowly upward marking where it had been.
But this vapor was so clearly seen in the wonderful moonlight that it
was easy to fix the precise point where the trail entered the
wilderness.
It was just there, as Long believed, that the savages would debouch
into sight, and renew the warfare which thus far had been only one
series of disasters to them.
He was not mistaken, when, shortly after he had noticed the increasing
number of logs and driftwood, he fancied he detected something going on
at the very point on which his gaze was fixed.
As was the case with Fred Ashman, it was some time before he could so
much as conjecture its nature. The glimpses were so faint and
momentary that nothing tangible resulted, though he was positive that
some of their enemies were there.
At the moment he uttered an exclamation of impatience, he made out
three figures of the natives, who advanced far enough from the wood for
him to identify them.
Not only that, but they walked stealthily to the edge of the river and
stood several minutes, as if looking across at the canoe.
Long was confident that he could drop one of them at least, and he was
tempted to do so. The most effective way of keeping the savages off
was by nipping their schemes in the bud, and filling them with
additional terror of the white strangers.
But he decided to wait a while, suspecting, as he did, that some scheme
whose nature he could not guess was under way, and that if the
projectors were undisturbed, it would soon be revealed.
Jared Long, we say, was convinced that the natives were scrutinizing
the canoe and seeking to learn something about the occupants, whom they
had doubtless watched as they made their way from the water to the
shelter of the wood. Such was his belief, and yet he was altogether
mistaken.
It struck him as odd that the savages acted as they did, when it would
seem that they could see just as well from the edge of the wood, where
they were not exposed to the fire of their enemies; but he reflected
that there was precious little about the conduct of the natives from
the first that could be explained on the line of common sense and
consistency.
The trio stood in view less than five minutes, when they darted back to
cover, as if afraid of being seen by the whites, a theory altogether
untenable under the circumstances.
The natural supposition of the sentinel was that a large number of the
savages had gathered under the bank and were making ready for some
demonstration, which would soon take place.
It was not yet time to awaken the Professor and the natives. In fact,
the plucky New Englander half believed that with his repeating rifle he
would be able to beat off any approach from the other shore.
At this moment, he was amazed to see one of the savages do an
extraordinary thing.
Darting out from the wood behind him, he ran to the smouldering
camp-fire seized a brand that was covered with ashes, and circled it so
swiftly about his head that it was fanned into a roaring blaze.
While doing this, he stood apparently with one foot in the margin of
the Xingu, and evidently with not the slightest fear of the white
strangers within gun-shot. He not only swung the brand forward several
times, but reversed and spun it in the other direction, with a velocity
that made it look like a solid ring of fire.
Suddenly the truth flashed upon the bewildered sentinel: _the savage
was signaling to some friend or friends on the other bank_! That being
the case, it followed that the friend or friends were most
uncomfortably close to the camp of the white men.
And still Long failed to attach any importance to the unusual quantity
of logs and driftwood that was sweeping down the Xingu in front of him.