In Far Bolivia Part 36

"Lay in your oars, men! Up, guns! Let them have a volley! Straight at yonder bus.h.!.+ Fire low, lads! See, yonder is a savage!"

d.i.c.k took aim at a dark-skinned native who stood well out from the wood, and fired. He was close to the stream and had been about to shoot, but d.i.c.k's rifle took away his breath, and with an agonized scream he threw up his arms and fell headlong into the water.

Volley after volley rang out now on the still air, and soon it was evident that the woods were cleared.

"Those are the Paynee Indians without a doubt," said d.i.c.k; "the same sable devils that the skipper of that steamer warned us about."

They saw no more of the enemy then, however, and the afternoon pa.s.sed in peace.

An hour and a half before sunset they landed at the mouth of a small but clear river, about ten miles to the north of the Falls of Woe.

Close to the Madeira itself this lovely stream was thickly banked by forest, but the boats were taken higher up, and here excellent camping-ground was found in a country spa.r.s.ely wooded.

Far away to the west rose the everlasting hills, and our heroes thought they could perceive snow in the chasms between the rocks.

Roland had not forgotten the adventure with the Indians, so scouts were sent out at once to scour the woods. They returned shortly before sunset, having seen no one.

Both Roland and d.i.c.k were somewhat uneasy in their minds, nevertheless, and after dinner, in the wan and uncertain light of a half-moon, a double row of sentries was posted, and orders were given that they should be relieved every two hours, for the night was close and sultry, just such a night as causes restless somnolence. At such times a sentry may drop to sleep leaning on his gun or against a tree. He may slumber for an hour and not be aware he has even closed an eye.

The boys themselves felt a strange drowsiness stealing away their senses. They would have rolled themselves up in their rugs and sought repose at once, but this would have made the night irksomely long.

So they chatted, and even sang, till their usual hour.

When they turned in, instead of dressing in a pyjama suit, they retained the clothes they had worn all day.

d.i.c.k noticed that Roland was doing so, and followed his example. No reason was given by his friend, but d.i.c.k could guess it. Guess also what he meant by placing a rifle close beside him and looking to his revolvers before he lay down.

Everyone in camp, except those on duty, was by this time sound asleep.

Lights and fires were out, and the stillness was almost painful.

Roland would have preferred hearing the wind sighing among the forest trees, the murmur of the river, or even the mournful wailing of the great blue owl.

But never a leaf stirred, and as the moon sank lower and lower towards those strangely rugged and serrated mountains of the west, the boys themselves joined the sleepers, and all their care and anxiety was for the time being forgotten.

The night waned and waned. The sentries had been changed, and it was now nearly one o'clock.

There was a lake about a mile above the camp, that is, a mile farther westwards. It was surrounded by tall waving reeds, at least an acre wide all round.

The home _par excellence_ of the dreaded 'gator was this dark and sombre sheet of water, for to it almost nightly came the tapirs to quench their thirst and to bathe.

Silently a troop of these wonderful creatures came up out of the forest to-night, all in a string, with the largest and oldest a little way in front.

Every now and then these pioneers would pause to listen. They knew the wiliness of the enemy that might be lying in wait for them. So acute in hearing are they said to be that they can distinguish the sound of a snake gliding over withered leaves at a distance of a hundred yards.

But their sight also is a great protection to them. No 'gator can move among the reeds without bending them, move he never so warily. Above all this, the tapir's sense of smell is truly marvellous.

To-night the old tapirs that led the van seemed particularly suspicious and cautious. Their signal for silence was a kind of snort or cough, and this was now ofttimes repeated.

Suddenly the foremost tapir stamped his foot, and at once the whole drove turned or wheeled and glided back as silently as they had come, until the shadows of the great forest swallowed them up.

What had they seen or heard? They had seen tall, dark human figures--one, two, three--a score and over, suddenly raise their heads and shoulders above the reeds, and after standing for a moment so still that they seemed part and parcel of the solemn scene, move out from the jungle and take their way towards the slumbering camp.

Savages all, and on a mission of death.

n.o.body's dreams could have been a bit more happy than those of d.i.c.k Temple just at this moment.

He was sitting once more on the deck of the great raft, which was slowly gliding down the sunlit sea-like Amazon. The near bank was tree-clad, and every branch was garlanded with flowers of rainbow hues.

But d.i.c.k looked not on the trees nor the flowers, nor the waving undulating forest itself--looked not on the sun-kissed river. His eyes were fixed on a brightly-beautiful and happy face. It was Peggy who sat beside him, Peggy to whom he was breathing words of affection and love, Peggy with shy, half-flushed face and slightly averted head.

But suddenly this scene was changed, and he awoke with a start to grasp his rifle. A shrill quavering yell rang through the camp, and awakened every echo in the forest.

The Indians--the dreaded Paynee tribe of cannibals--were on them. That yell was a war-cry. These pagan Paynees were thirsting for blood.

CHAPTER XXI--THE FOREST IS SHEETED IN FLAMES

For just a few moments Roland was taken aback. Then, in a steady manly voice that could be heard all over the camp, he gave the order.

"All men down! The Indians are approaching from the west. Fire low, lads--between you and the light.

"Don't waste a shot!" he added.

[Ill.u.s.tration: "FIRE LOW, LADS.... DON'T WASTE A SHOT!"]

Three Indians bit the dust at the first volley, and though the rest struggled on to the attack, it was only to be quickly repulsed.

In ten minutes' time all had fled, and the great forest and woodland was as silent as before.

It was Roland's voice that again broke the stillness.

"Rally round, boys," he shouted, "and let me know the worst."

The sacrifice of life, however, was confined to three poor fellows, one white man and two peons; and no one was wounded.

n.o.body thought of going to sleep again on this sad night, and when red clouds were at last seen over the green-wooded horizon, heralding the approach of day, a general sense of relief was felt by all in the little camp.

Soon after sunrise breakfast was served, and eaten with avidity by all hands now in camp, for scouts were out, and d.i.c.k and Roland awaited the news they would bring with some degree of impatience.

The scouting was really a sort of reconnaisance in force, by picked Indians and whites under the command of the redoubtable Burly Bill.

Suddenly Brawn raised his head and gave vent to an angry "wouff!" and almost at the same time the sound of distant rifle-firing fell on the ears of the little army.

Half an hour after this, Bill and two men stepped out from the bush and advanced.

His brow was bound with a blood-stained handkerchief.