Chapter ELEVEN (2)

"Let them go," observed our friend. "You do not want a meal, or you would find their flesh supply you with one not to be disdained." The last remark was made as we again moved on. Once more we relapsed into silence. When, however, a bird, or moth, or any creature appeared, our guide stopped for an instant, and turning round, told us its name and habits. We passed several curious trees, one of which he pointed out rising from the ground in numerous stalks, which then united in a thick stem, and afterwards, half-way up, bulged out in a long oval, again to narrow, till at the summit six or eight branches, with palm-like formed leaves, spread forth, forming a graceful crown to the curious stem. He called it the _Iriartes ventricosa_, or bulging-stemmed palm. Again we passed through a grove of urucuri palms (_Attalea excelsa_). Their smooth columnar stems were about forty or fifty feet in height, while their broad, finely pinnated leaves interlocked above, and formed arches and woven canopies of varied and peculiarly graceful shapes. High above them rose the taller forest trees, whose giant branches formed a second canopy to shade them from the glaring rays of the sun. Many of the trees rose eighty feet without a branch, their stems perfectly straight. Huge creepers were clinging round them, sometimes stretching obliquely from their summits, like the stays of a ship's mast. Others wound round their trunks, like huge serpents ready to spring on their prey. Others, again twisted spirally round each other, forming vast cables of living wood, holding fast those mighty monarchs of the forest. Some of the trees were so covered with smaller creepers and parasitic plants that the parent stem was entirely concealed. The most curious trees were those having buttresses projecting from their bases. The lower part of some of them extended ten feet or more from the base of the tree, reaching only five or six feet up the trunk. Others again extended to the height of fully thirty feet, and could be seen running up like ribs to a still greater height. Some of these ribs were like wooden walls, several inches in thickness, extended from the stem, so as to allow room for a good-sized hut to be formed between them by merely roofing over the top. Again, I remarked other trees ribbed and furrowed for their whole height. Occasionally these furrows pierced completely through the trunks, like the narrow windows of an ancient tower. There were many whose roots were like those of the bulging palm, but rising much higher above the surface of the ground. The trees appeared to be standing on many-legged pedestals, frequently so far apart from each other that we could without difficulty walk beneath them. A multitude of pendants hung from many of the trees, some like large wild pine-apples, swinging in the air. There were climbing arums, with dark-green arrow-head shaped leaves; huge ferns shot out here and there up the stems to the topmost branches. Many of the trees had leaves as delicately cut as those of the graceful mimosa, while others had large palmate leaves, and others, again, oval glossy ones.

Now and then, as I looked upwards, I was struck with the finely-divided foliage strongly defined against the blue sky, here and there lighted up by the bright sunshine; while, in the region below through which we moved, a deep gloom prevailed, adding grandeur and solemnity to the scene. There were, however, but few flowers; while the ground on which we walked was covered with dead leaves and rotten wood, the herbage consisting chiefly of ferns and a few grasses and low creeping plants.

We stopped at last to lunch, and while John and I were seated on the branch of a fallen tree, our friend disappeared. He returned shortly, with his arms full of large bunches of a round juicy berry. "Here," he said, "these will quench your thirst, and are perfectly wholesome." We found the taste resembling that of grapes. He called it the _puruma_. We were too eager to find Arthur to rest long, and were once more on our journey.

"From the account you gave me, I hope we may soon meet with your friends," observed the recluse, "unless they have turned back in despair of finding you."

"Little fear of that," I observed. "I am sure Arthur will search for us as long as he has strength to move."

Still we went on and on, and Arthur did not appear; and we asked our companion whether he did not think it possible that our friends might have tried to make their way along the bank of the river.

"No," he answered, "the jungle is there too thick; and if we find signs of their having made the attempt, we shall speedily overtake them; for though we have made a considerable circuit, they by this time could scarcely have progressed half a mile even with the active employment of sharp axes."

This somewhat comforted me; for notwithstanding what the recluse said, I felt nearly certain that Arthur would attempt to examine the whole length of the bank, in hopes of discovering what had become of us. We went on and on till we entered a denser part of the forest, where we were compelled to use our axes before we could get through. At length I caught sight through an opening of what looked like a heap of boughs at a distance. The recluse, quickening his pace, went on towards it. We eagerly followed. It was a hut roughly built. Extinguished embers of a fire were before it. We looked in eagerly. It was empty, but there were leaves on the ground, and dry grass, as if people had slept there. It had been, there was little doubt, inhabited by Arthur and his companions. It was just such a hut as they would have built in a hurry for defence against the storm. But what had become of them?

"I believe you are right," said the recluse at last, having examined the bushes round; "they certainly attempted to make their way along the bank. I trust no accident has happened to them, for in many places it is undermined by the waters, and after rain suddenly gives way." These remarks somewhat alarmed me. "This is the way they have taken, at all events," he added; "though they have managed to creep under places we might find some difficulty in passing." Again he led the way, clearing the path occasionally with his axe. We were close to the edge of the river, though so thickly grew the tangled sipos and the underwood that we could only occasionally get glimpses of it. As we went along we shouted out frequently, in hopes that Arthur might hear us.

"Your friend and his companions have laboured hard to get through this dense jungle," he observed, "but we shall soon overtake them."

Still on and on we went, now and then having to turn aside, being unable otherwise to force our way onwards. We at length, on returning to the river, found below us a sand-bank, which extended for some distance along it.

"Here are the marks of their feet!" exclaimed John, who had leaped down on it. "See the way they are turned! We shall soon overtake them."

This discovery restored my spirits, for I had begun to fear that after all, unable to get along, they had turned back. We hastened forward along the bank, but the sand was very soft, and walking on it was almost as fatiguing as through the forest; while the heat from the sun striking down on it was intense. Climbing up the bank once more, we proceeded through the forest. We went on a short distance, when we found ourselves in more open ground--that is to say, we could get on without the use of our axes. We continued shouting out, and every now and then making our way to the bank as before.

"Hark!" said John, "I hear a cry. See! there are natives coming towards us. Yes; I believe they are the two young Indians."

"They are Indians," remarked our guide. "They are beckoning us. We will hasten on."

In another minute we saw Duppo and Oria running towards us. They kept crying out words that I did not understand. As soon as they saw the recluse they hurried to him, and took his hands, as if they knew him well.

"They tell me your young friend is ill," he remarked. "They have left him a little further on, close to the water, where, it seems, unable to proceed, he fainted. They entreat me to hasten on lest he should die. They fancy I can do everything, having occasionally cured some of their people of slight diseases."

As he said this he allowed himself to be dragged forward by Duppo and his sister, who, in their eagerness, seemed scarcely to have recognised us. The ground over which we were proceeding was somewhat swampy, and sloped down to a small lagoon or inlet of the river. John and I followed as fast as we could at the heels of our guide. Presently he stopped, and uttering an exclamation, threw aside the hands of the young Indians and dashed forward. We followed, when, what was our horror to see, under a grove of mimosa bushes, Arthur in the grasp of a huge serpent, which had wound its coils round his body. I shrieked with dismay, for I thought he was dead. He moved neither hand nor foot, seemingly unconscious of what had occurred. The recluse dashed forward. John and I followed with our axes, and True went tearing boldly on before us. It was an anaconda. Already its huge mouth was open to seize our young companion. Without a moment's hesitation the recluse sprang at the monster, and seizing its jaws with a power I should scarcely have supposed he possessed, wrenched them back, and held them fast in spite of the creature's efforts to free itself. "Draw him out!" shouted the recluse; and John, seizing Arthur, drew him forth from amid the vast coils, while I with my axe struck blow after blow at its body and tail. The recluse did not let go his hold, although the creature, unwinding its tail, threatened to encircle him in its coils. Now it seemed as if it would drag him to the ground, but he recovered his feet, still bending back the head till I could hear the bones cracking. I meantime had been hacking at its tail, and at length a fortunate blow cut it off. John, placing Arthur at a little distance, came back to our assistance, and in another minute the reptile lay dead at our feet, when True flew at it and tore away furiously at its body.

"Your young friend has had a narrow escape," said the recluse, as he knelt down and took Arthur's hand; "he breathes, though, and is not aware of what has happened, for the anaconda must have seized him while he was unconscious."

We ran to the river. The dry shells of several large nuts lay near. In these we brought some water, and bathed Arthur's brow and face. "He seems unhurt by the embrace of the anaconda," remarked the recluse, "but probably suffered from the heat of the sun."

After this he lifted Arthur in his arms, and bore him up the bank. John and I followed with a shell of water. The contrast between the hot sandy bank and the shady wood was very great. As we again applied the water, Arthur opened his eyes. They fell on the recluse, on whom he kept them steadily fixed with a look of surprise.

"I thought John and Harry were with me," he murmured out. "I heard their voices calling as I lay fainting on the bank."

"Yes; we are here," John and I said, coming forward. "Duppo and his sister met us, and brought us to you."

"I am so glad," he said in a low voice. "I began to fear that you were really lost, we wandered on so far without finding you. I felt ready to die too, I was so sick at heart. And your sister--is she safe?" he asked. "Oh yes; I am sure you would look more sad if she were not."

"Yes, she is safe and well, Arthur," I said; "and we must take you there to be nursed, or, if it is too far to carry you, we must build a hut somewhere near here, where we can join you."

The stranger looked at Arthur, and murmured something we did not hear.

"It is a long way to carry the lad," he said; "though if I had him in my hut I would watch over him."

"Perhaps it may be better to build a hut at the spot we proposed, and bring our sister and goods to it," I said.

"No; I will take the lad to mine," answered the recluse. "You can build a hut as you proposed, and when he has recovered I will bring him to you."

I was very glad to hear this, because I was afraid that Arthur might suffer unless we could get him soon placed in a comfortable hammock, and give him better food than we should be able to prepare without our cooking apparatus.

"I am ready to go on whenever you wish it," observed Arthur, who heard the discussion; "but I am afraid I cannot walk very fast."

"I will carry you then," said the recluse; "but it will be better to form a litter, on which you can rest more at your ease. We will soon get one ready."

Duppo and Oria stood by watching us eagerly while we spoke, as if they were anxious to know what we were saying.

"You stay with your young friend, while your brother and I prepare the litter," said the recluse to me, replacing Arthur on the ground.

I sat down by his side, supporting him. He did not allude to the anaconda, and, I suspected, was totally unconscious of the danger he had been in. While the recluse and John were cutting down some poles to form the litter, Duppo and his sister collected a number of long thin sipos, showing that they understood what we proposed doing. In a short time the litter was completed. John and I insisted on carrying it, though we had some difficulty in persuading the recluse to allow us to do so. He spoke for some time to Duppo and his sister, who looked greatly disconcerted and sad.

"I was telling them that they must go and find their people," he said, "and that they must build a house for you on the spot you selected. They will be true friends to you, as they have ever been to me. I advise you to cultivate their friendship by treating them with kindness and respect."

The young Indians seemed very unwilling to take their departure, and lingered some time after we had wished them good-bye. John and I took up the litter, on which Arthur had been placed. As we had already cut a road for ourselves, we were able to proceed faster than we did when before passing through the forest. We hurried on, for the sun had begun to sink towards the west, and we might be benighted before we could reach the hermit's abode.

We proceeded by the way we had come. After we had gone some distance, Arthur begged that he might be put down and allowed to walk. "I am sure I have strength enough, and I do not like to see you carry me," he said. Of this, however, we would not hear, and continued on.

At last we sat down to rest. The spot we had chosen was a pleasant one. Though shaded, it was sufficiently open to allow the breeze to circulate through it. Round us, in most directions, was a thick jungle. We had brought some water in a shell of one of the large nuts, and after Arthur had drunk some, we induced him to take a little food, which seemed greatly to revive him. We were seated round the contents of our wallets, John and I, at all events, feeling in much better spirits than we had been in the morning; even the recluse threw off some of his reserve. We took the opportunity of telling him of our anxiety about our parents, and of the uncertainty we felt whether they had passed down the river. He in return asked us further questions, and seemed interested in our account.

"I may be of use to you," he said at length, "by being able to make inquiries among the Indians on the river, who would probably have observed them should they have passed; but promises are so often broken, that I am ever unwilling to make them. Therefore, I advise you to trust to your own exertions," he added.

We were on the point of again taking up Arthur to proceed, when a loud sound of crashing branches was heard in the distance. It seemed as if a hurricane was sweeping through the forest. It came nearer and nearer.

"Oh I what can it be?" cried Arthur. "Leave me and save yourselves. It seems as if the whole forest was falling."

The crashing increased. Boughs seemed broken off, shrubs trampled under foot. Presently we saw, bearing down upon as, a large dark-skinned creature, though its form could scarcely be distinguished amid the foliage.

"Stand fast!" said the recluse. "It will not harm you. See! it has an enemy to contend with."

As the creature drew nearer, I saw that it bore on its back a huge jaguar, distinguished by its spotted hide and its fierce glaring eyes. Its jaws were fixed in the creature's neck, to which it clung also with its sharp claws.

"The animal is a tapir," said the recluse. "I am not certain yet though whether the jaguar will conquer it. See, the back of the latter is bleeding and torn from the rough branches beneath which the tapir has carried it."

As he spoke, the animals came close to us, the tapir making for the thick branch of a fallen tree kept up by a network of sipos, which hung like a beam almost horizontally a few feet from the ground. The tapir dashed under it, and we could hear the crash of the jaguar's head as it came in contact with the hard wood. Still it clung on, but its eyes had lost their fierce glare. Blood covered the backs of the animals, and the next moment the jaguar fell to the ground, where it lay struggling faintly. Twice it tried to rise, but fell back, and lay apparently dead.

John had lifted his rifle to fire at the tapir. "Hold!" said the recluse; "let the victor go; he deserves his liberty for having thus sagaciously liberated himself from his tormentor. Would that we could as easily get rid of ours! How eagerly we should seek the lower branches of the trees!" He gave one of those peculiar, sarcastic laughs, which I observed he was apt to indulge in.

We cautiously approached the jaguar, feeling uncertain whether it might not yet rise up and spring at us. John and I kept our rifles at its head, while True went boldly up towards it. He had been an excited spectator of the scene, and I had some difficulty in keeping him from following the tapir. The jaguar did not move. Even a poke with the muzzle of my rifle failed to arouse it. True began to tear away at its neck; and at length we were convinced that the savage creature was really dead. "There let him lie," said the recluse. "Strong as he was a few moments ago, he will be food for the armadillos before morning."

We again lifted up Arthur, and proceeded onwards, the recluse leading and clearing away the branches which might have injured Arthur as we passed between them. Of course we now required a broader passage than when we came through ourselves. We took exactly the same route; our guide never faltering for a moment, though in many places I should have had difficulty, where the marks of our axes were not to be seen, in finding the road. Several times he offered to take my place, observing that I might be tired; but John and I begged him to allow us to carry our young friend, as we did not like to impose the task on him. Thus we went on till my arms and shoulders began to ache, but I determined not to give in. Arthur had not spoken for some time. I looked at his face. It was very pale, and his eyes were closed. I was afraid he had received more injury from the fearful serpent than we had at first supposed. We hurried on, for it was evidently very important that he should as soon as possible be attended to. We did not stop, therefore, a moment to rest. Thinking that he would not hear me, I expressed my fears to John. "Oh no, no," said Arthur; "I do not feel so very ill. I wish you would put me down, for I am sure you must be tired."

I was greatly relieved when I heard him speak; at the same time his voice was so weak, that we were unwilling to do as he begged us. It was getting late, too, as we could judge by the increasing gloom in the forest. Looking up through the occasional openings in the dark-green canopy above our heads, we could see the sky, which had now become of the intensest shade of blue. A troop of allouattes commenced a concert, their unmusical howlings echoing through the forest. Numerous macaws passed above us, giving vent to strange harsh cries; while whole families of parrots screamed in various notes. Cicadas set up the most piercing chirp, becoming shriller and shriller, till it ended in a sharp screeching whistle. Other creatures--birds, beasts, and insects--added their voices to the concert, till the whole forest seemed in an uproar. As the sky grew darker, and the shades of night came thickly round us, the noises gradually ceased, but were soon succeeded by the drumming, hoohooing, and the croaking of the tree-frogs, joined occasionally by the melancholy cries of the night-jar. "Follow me closely," said the recluse, "and step as high as you can, not to catch your feet in the tangled roots. My eyes are well accustomed to this forest-gloom, and I will lead you safely."

At length we found ourselves passing through a narrow passage between thick bushes, which reminded us of the approach to the recluse's hut. Emerging from it, we saw light ahead, and now reached the steps which led to the verandah.

"You have come on well," he observed. "I will carry up your young friend. Leave the litter on the ground."

I had to stop and assist up True, for although he made several attempts to mount the ladder by himself, it was somewhat too high for him to succeed. On entering the hut I found Ellen, in a state of agitation, leaning over Arthur.

"Oh! what has happened?" she asked. "Will he die? Will he die?"

"I trust not, young lady," remarked our host. "He wants rest and careful nursing, and I hope in a few days will have recovered. I will now attend to him, and afterwards leave him under your care."

"Do not be alarmed, Miss Ellen," whispered Arthur. "I only fainted from the hot sun and anxiety about you all. Now I am with you, I shall soon get well."

"As I have by me a store of medicines, with which I have doctored occasionally the poor natives, I can find, I hope, some remedies which may help to restore your friend," observed the recluse. "Rest is what he chiefly now requires."

Arthur was put into his hammock, and after he had taken a mess which Maria had prepared, fell asleep.