Chapter XIX: Lost in the Jungle

Ralph, upon flying from the infuriated elephant, had followed the defile before described, rushing up its tortuous windings with little heed beyond that of his own safety. If he thought at all, he believed that the others were following him at no great distance; attracted, as he had been, by the rough stones lying in the bed of the stream; where, after the rains, it tumbled headlong down the pass, a mountain torrent of double its present width. The loose boulders, and jagged fragments of rock, would, he considered, cut the pads in the elephant's feet and deter the animal's pursuit. In this he was mistaken, but the idea guided his flight at the time.

He did not pause for reflection; it was instinct more than deliberation which impelled his flight. On he ran; his active, well-trained young limbs covering the ground rapidly; leaping from rock to boulder, springing over pool and marshy hollow, and instinctively taking advantage of every soft grassy slope.

All at once his heedless progress was arrested by summary disaster. He stepped upon something soft, which turned beneath his foot instead of proving to be a rounded hard stone. A fearful screech was heard, curdling the very marrow in his bones, and bringing his heart to his mouth as he fell, measuring his length prone upon the sward. An unearthly spitting and growling assailed him, which, as he quickly came to himself after the shock of his fall, he first thought emanated from an enraged cat; but the next moment, was, he perceived, the token of something far worse.

He had tumbled over two young tiger cubs, and their dam was hurrying up to their rescue, from the pool where she had been drinking.

He saw the rich colour of her soft fur; he marked the beautiful dark waving lines crossing the yellow body; the graceful power of her strong limbs was impressed upon his mind in the moment's view which he had of her, lifting her head from the water at the cry of her offspring, and bounding back to their lair.

Then she crouched for her spring upon him, the sun lighting up her splendid eyes, contracted as they were from the intentness with which they glared at him, her tail lashing itself to and fro, as she warily crept two steps nearer, with fell purpose apparent in her every curve.

That pause for her spring saved him. How he took his aim he never knew; he could not have done it had he stayed to consider, it was an accuracy born of desperation. He seized his gun, as he rose to his feet, pointed it, fired, and saw her drop. The shot had entered the creature's neck, near the shoulders, and pierced directly to its heart. She rolled over with a faint struggle, and was still for evermore.

Oblivious of the death of their dam, the two cubs, replete with food, were already curling themselves around to resume their disturbed sleep.

Ralph could not believe in his own deliverance. He dropped his arms, and stood for a moment dumbfounded, expecting to see that agile sinuous mass of beautiful peril move again.

He gazed at it in silent, fixed horror, till, gradually realising that he was saved from it as by a miracle, he drew a long breath.

At the very same moment he became aware of two brilliant points of topaz-hued light fixed upon him from the jungle.

They were the eyes of the male tiger, stealthily advancing upon him from another side.

It was too much for the boy. Terror seized upon him, and he fled precipitately in the reverse direction; tearing his way through creeper and jungle-grass, breaking through bush and bramble, panting, gasping and sick with fear, till, perceiving a gnarled tree easy to climb, he flung down his gun and swung himself upwards, from branch to branch, till he could seat himself upon a point of safety.

The tiger leapt, and leapt short of his prey. With a roar of baffled rage it bounded up to the tree where the boy sat with blanched cheeks and horror-distended eyes, and, rearing itself upon its hind legs, stretched a strong paw upwards in endeavour to reach its enemy and pull him from his refuge. Up went Ralph's legs with an instinctive spasm. He crouched closer to the branch where he sat, and clung faster to the boughs and cord-like creepers around him.

The tiger, with ferocious growls, snuffed at the gun, prowled round the tree, and cast baleful glances upwards to the place where the boy was plainly visible; but it made no attempt to climb the trunk, which Ralph feared it would do. He did not know enough about the habits or power of these creatures to be sure what it would attempt; and was alternately divided between this dread and that of being no longer able to maintain his hold, but of falling headlong from his perch into the grasp of those cruel fangs and terrible paws.

But though every minute seemed to be an hour, the time was not really very long before the creature gave up its pursuit, and made off with head drooping and a long stealthy stride of its supple limbs.

Ralph could not at first believe himself to be safe. He thought that the tiger might return; he thought that it was watching him from some secret lair; he was not certain that his shot had proved fatal to the female tiger; and the more he thought about it, the less probable did he consider it that she was dead. He glanced this way and that, expecting to see a gleam of golden colour creeping among the undergrowth of deep green scrub; he strained his ears to hear soft footsteps crash among the brushwood, or low-muttered growls uttered beneath him.

He was cramped and stiff from his attitude and the rigidity of his hold; he grew very cold as the sun went down; he was hungry and very, very thirsty; his lips were parched, his mouth fevered,--yet he dared not descend the tree.

After a long time, he ventured to change his position to one of greater ease. He shifted his place to a mighty branch, upon which he might recline at full length, or sit with his back against the bole. Then he began to wonder what had become of his companions. He could see none of them, nor hear a sound which could proceed from human lips.

Where were they? What were they doing? Why did they not come to seek him? Had any of them been trampled under foot by that mad elephant, or devoured by the tigers? Surely some dreadful thing must have befallen them, or they would have come to his assistance.

Mr. Gilchrist--Wills--Osborn--why did none of them come?

By degrees his thoughts concentrated themselves upon his gun. It must not be there in the long grass, dark and wet with heavy dew. He must go down and take it up, but dreaded the descent. Still, his gun must not become rusted and useless, or what would become of him. Slowly, silently, he crept down, swinging himself from bough to bough, pausing and listening every moment for the tiger's low growl. Now he thought that he heard it; then he believed that it was but his imagination. Under one idea, he hung poised in air; under the other, he ventured a little farther. All at once a treacherous branch, to which he had trusted his weight, gave way beneath him; and, with a sudden jerk, he fell crashing down to the ground.

His fall was broken by the thick tangle of the undergrowth, so that he fractured no bones, but he was terribly shaken, cut and scratched, and one foot sprained.

For a few moments he lay stunned; then pulled himself together, reached out for the gun, and having possessed himself of it, tried to mount the tree again. But he could not succeed. His arms felt as if they had been all but pulled out of their sockets; blood trickled into his eyes from a deep scratch on his brow, and blinded him.

But he dared not remain upon the ground, so he moved on a little to seek a tree which might be easier to climb. The moon had risen in radiant beauty, and there was plenty of light, but no tree suitable to his purpose grew about that spot, and he moved deeper into the jungle, as he thought that now here, now there, he had found one.

He did discover one at last, made his painful ascent of it, and, when he thought that he had mounted sufficiently high, he found a tolerably easy seat, and determined to await the dawn there.

He was extremely tired, but was afraid to sleep lest some snake or noxious insect should coil around him or sting him. He had enough to do to ward off the attacks of myriads of creatures as it was. Mosquitoes hummed gaily over their feast upon him; huge beetles flopped in his face, smaller ones ran up his trousers and sleeves, and tried to penetrate down his back.

Ants got into his boots, and slimy things crawled over his hands and endeavoured to fix themselves on his face or neck, or cling to his hair. Would the tardy day never begin to break?

What was that red glow upon the sky to the eastward? It was not like the dawn, it was not in the right place,--but what could it be? It was like the reflection, upon the sky, of a mighty fire,--but where was the fire? He could see none.

Ralph was not aware how far he had run up the defile, or noticed the direction which he had taken in escaping from the tiger. In reality he had skirted round the farther base of the hill upon which the police-station was situated, and was wandering in the jungle at its base.

The tardy sun rose at last; much of the terror of the night was swept away under its beneficent influence. Ralph pulled himself together, determined to walk off his stiffness and soreness; shouldered his gun, and set off--down quite a new gulley, under the idea that he was returning down the same through which he had come on the previous afternoon; and limped resolutely forward, away from his friends, away from the station, away from all help and succour.

He walked for a long time before he found that he was not going rightly, for the defile came to an end. Its close was completed by a wide shallow pool, fringed with bamboo canes, and upon which many water-fowl were disporting themselves, while more were preening their plumage upon its banks.

The sight made him feel how hungry he was, and he argued to himself that the sound of his gun would betray his whereabouts to his friends, who would answer the signal by another to let him know in which direction to turn. He fired, therefore, upon the covey nearest to him, and two plump birds fell.

Forgetting his fatigue and his lame foot in the excitement, he splashed through the muddy shallows and pools, picked up his game, and brought it back to _terra firma_.

"Well," said he to himself, "there is nothing to be gained by rambling farther away. I may as well stay here and cook my breakfast, for I don't know which way to go, and it is as likely that I should go wrongly as in the right way. If they don't hear my gun, they will perhaps see the smoke of a fire, which will guide them."

He therefore gathered some dry fuel in a heap, and, having the good fortune to discover some cutchwood trees, collected the withered branches lying scattered around, and soon had a splendid fire. The flames emitted from the cutchwood were, however, too fierce for his cookery, so he piled on some greener wood, and sat down to pluck his birds, while the blaze was dying down to a nice glowing bed of red ashes.

We say "pluck his birds," but Ralph was no gourmand; nor was he cook to a first-class gentleman's club. Plucking was too lengthy an operation for him; he cut the skin of his game down the back, and pulled it off, inside out, like a stocking from a foot, having first chopped off the heads and legs.

This operation was completed before his fire was ready; so he took a plunge into a clear pool, reclothed himself, and then broiled his breakfast, having split his birds open like spatch-cocks.

"They are not bad," thought he, as he devoured them, tearing their limbs apart by help of fingers and knife, like a young ogre. "They are not bad, though they would have been more savoury if I had had some pepper and salt, with a dab of butter. How Agnes would have jeered at me as man-cook. I wonder what the dear old girl is doing now. She little thinks where I am. Lost in a Burmese jungle! What a pretty kettle of fish it is. I know no more than the man in the moon which way to go, or what to do. Well, no predicament is so bad that it can't be mended. If I walk straight on, I must come somewhere, sooner or later. Those fellows don't mean to join me here, that's plain. So Ralph Denham, Esq., marching orders are yours. Forward!"

He knew that he must regain the main stream of the Salween River, up the eastern bank of which his party had come; but where was the Salween? He must climb one of these mountain-spurs,--one sufficiently lofty to command a bird's-eye view of the country, so that he could take its bearings. He therefore set himself to the ascent of the most lofty hill which he could perceive.

The ascent was, however, no joke. His foot was very painful. He had dipped his handkerchief in water, and bound it tightly round the ankle, but the heat rapidly dried it, nor could he constantly find means of rewetting it to keep it cool.

The jungle grew thicker and thicker, more and more impenetrable, with every step. He had to cut his way with his knife through the tangle of creepers, linked and bound together in impenetrable masses, and his knife soon became wholly inadequate to the task.

To proceed straight forward was utterly impossible, for the thickness of the interlacing stems quite baffled his strength. He found an easier place to the right, and essayed that; but after a few steps he was pulled up again. He discovered a slighter barrier to the left, again to be baffled wholly.

After hours of work, he had advanced but a dozen yards, and made up his mind that to penetrate such a jungle as this, with no better appliances than he possessed, and with no help, was a completely hopeless task.

He sat down to rest, and consider what would be his next best plan.