Adrift on the Amazon

[Illustration: New cuts were made in the trees for the next day's supply.

[_Page 136_ ]

Adrift On The Amazon

By Leo E. Miller

Illustrated

New York Charles Scribner’S Sons 1923

Copyright, 1923, By Charles Scribner’S Sons

Printed in the United States of America

[Illustration]

To

ALL READERS WHO HAVE A WHOLESOME LIKING FOR STORIES OF ADVENTURE AND THE GREAT OUTDOORS

Preface

The Amazon! Who has not been thrilled at the mere mention of the words? For the name of the world’s mightiest river suggests not only vast expanses of muddy water, but also the jungle-clad shores and wild hinterland where nature seems to have run riot in the development of strange and interesting vegetation and animal life, and of tribes of savages but little known and less understood. There is romance and adventure to be found in each mile of its yellow flood or gloomy thickets. But to only a few is given the privilege of lifting the veil of mystery that hangs over the Amazon country and of exploring its hidden retreats.

“Adrift on the Amazon” is the story of a youth’s struggles against the seemingly insurmountable difficulties that confronted the intrepid wanderer into the Amazon wilderness.

Contents

Chapter Page

I. Fighting Jones 1

II. David Leaves Home 13

III. The Amazon 21

IV. Roger’S Work 36

V. A Change Of Fortune 51

VI. Harpooning A River Monster 64

VII. When The River Ran Riot 78

VIII. The Road To Las Palmas 91

IX. The Beast 104

X. The Ascent Of The Upper Amazon 115

XI. In The Rubber Forest 128

XII. A Battle With A Crocodile 140

XIII. Adrift In The Forest 154

XIV. The Rescue From The Ant Army 168

XV. The Charge Of The Indians 178

XVI. The Battle In The Jungle 191

XVII. The Terror Of The Island 203

XVIII. When The Water Ran High 216

XIX. The Brown Men Of The Jungle 229

XX. The Drifting Ends 242

Illustrations

New cuts were made in the trees for the next day’s supply _Frontispiece_

Facing Page

A huge silvery form ... leaped out of the water, rolled and wallowed convulsively, and sank from sight 74

He delivered thrust after thrust with his right at the vulnerable neck and throat 150

Again facing toward the ... white men ... he grasped the arrow in both hands, snapped the shaft in two ... and threw the pieces into the river 232

Adrift On The Amazon

Chapter I

Fighting Jones

To David’s friends he was commonly known as “Fighting Jones”; but this name carried nothing of discredit with it; for, though the title had been earned by the not infrequent use of two good fists, the encounters had always been occasioned by a righteous cause--in protection of someone who was unable to defend his or her own interest.

The trouble was that the one higher up, the final authority as it were, had always decided against him. Sometimes words of sympathy, even approbation, had softened the rebuke that invariably followed each altercation; but in the final summing up he had never escaped the penalty.

David was downcast. It seemed as if the bottom had dropped out of everything. And as he mentally reviewed the events of the past ten minutes and speculated upon their consequences he knew that at last he had reached the very end of his tether. He had arrived at the parting of the ways; a break was plainly in sight; and at last he meant to assert himself.

His determined nature began to show itself so long ago as David could remember and probably before that. But he could recall the first difficulty in the kindergarten when one of the older and larger boys took advantage of his small size to deprive him of some cherished plaything. He never forgot that fight, nor the punishment he received at the hand of a stern father.

Later, years later, in high school, there had been the trouble when the principal had rebuked Miss Palmer, the instructor in Latin, before the whole class. The principal was a big, gruff man whose main attributes were to look stern at all times in an effort to instill discipline and to rejoice secretly when others showed signs of fear. He ruled by intimidation. Miss Palmer was meek and frail and when the lordly Mr. Davison assailed her she began to cry. That was too much for David. He calmly arose and informed the surprised Mr. Davison that he would never see any woman mistreated like that and if he did not stop at once and apologize he would knock his block off. Several of his classmates now came to his assistance. That precipitated a row. Result--David as ringleader of the mutiny was dismissed. Discipline had to be maintained.

He worried through school and college somehow or other. Then was forced into business by his father and tried hard to make good and was progressing in a satisfactory, so he thought, if not brilliant manner until----

Wellman, the chief engineer, was passing through the draughting room. David, busy at his board, was not even aware of his presence until he heard a muffled cough in back of him.

“Good morning, Mr. Wellman,” he said pleasantly, turning to greet his chief.

“How are the plans coming along?” the latter said abruptly. “I want to have the blue-prints struck off this afternoon.”

“They will be ready in an hour,” David returned. “I am just finishing the terrace.”

“Let me see!” Wellman adjusted his tortoise shell spectacles. “What scale?”

“Quarter inch.”

“What? Quarter inch?” One would have thought Wellman had been shot, the way he roared. “Didn’t I tell you to make it half inch?”

“I am sorry. I must have misunderstood. I will do them over.”

“Impossible. The superintendent must have the blue-prints tonight.”

“That is impossible too. I cannot do two days’ work in a few hours and do it right.”

“You’ll never know anything.” Wellman bellowed, while all the others in the office turned to see and hear what was going on.

“Now, look here,” David interrupted. “There is no excuse for your acting like that. You passed my table several times both yesterday and the day before and it seems to me as if you should have noticed the mistake then. Besides, I am sure you said quarter inch scale to begin with.”

“That’s right! that’s right! Blame it on me. You think you can do as you please because your father is president of this concern.” The chief was talking louder than ever.

“If it were not for your age I’d thrash you until you took that back.”

“Never mind my gray hair. Never mind my glasses; I’ll take them off. Here I am. Go to it. You are a privileged person around here. Do anything you like.”

Instead of replying, David threw down his drawing instruments and left the room. He headed straight for his father’s office. Arrived there he was told by a secretary to sit down in the ante-room; his father had given orders not to admit him until he should ring for him.

So! He knew about it already! Wellman had forestalled him by using the telephone. It was just as well that he had. His father would have the chief’s version of the affair and be ready to hear the other side of it.

A buzzer sounded and the secretary nodded to him to enter.

For a moment the elder Jones did not notice him. Then he turned abruptly in his chair and faced his son.

“What have you got to say?” he asked, not unkindly and rather sadly.

“Wellman told you what happened, I suppose.”

“Yes. He just called up. I want to hear your side of the matter.”

David gave an accurate account of the occurrence from beginning to end, while his father listened resignedly.

“Wellman is an old and valued employe, but I think this time he went too far. Disregarding the fact that you are my son, I am inclined to believe that you were not at fault--in fact, I am rather proud of the way you handled the situation. Still, that does not settle the issue. That office is too small for you and Wellman; so Wellman will have to go.”

David could not believe his ears and for a moment he was speechless.

“You don’t mean that you are going to fire him?” he asked finally.

“Yes. He went too far. The two of you would always be at odds after this and it would demoralize the whole department. I am sorry, but Wellman will receive his notice today.”

“I don’t want to see him lose his job. He is old and would have a hard time to find another. Why not keep him and let me out?”

“Because I want you to learn this business thoroughly; you may be called upon to take my place some day. You are just starting life. Your welfare is my first consideration.”

David saw his chance at last.

“If that is true,” he quickly interposed, “don’t start me on the wrong track. I do not want to stay in this business. I hate it. I tried to make good only to please you. If you are really thinking of my welfare, let me pick out my own work.”

“What is wrong with this? It offers most unusual opportunities for great and lasting success.”

“I know, but somehow or other I don’t seem to fit in. I dislike the city and all business. I want to go away where there is room to expand and to learn big things of another kind.”

“Remember the possibilities I just mentioned. You might some day erect a building taller than any of today or build a cathedral that would be a monument to your genius.”

“I would rather plow with a tractor and sow wheat; or herd cattle; or raise pigs than build anything no matter how great. I could put my whole heart and soul into that work and enjoy it. I want space to do my thinking and to develop in. I want green grass under my feet and a blue sky overhead. It is too crowded here. There are just as big things to be done in one place as in another.”

“Good gracious! Who put all that into your head? Or did you read it in some book?”

“It has just been growing on me and with me. I must get away from here. Let me work out my own future.”

“Suppose I should refuse to listen any further.”

“Then I am afraid I should go anyway, not right now, perhaps, but at some future time. The thought of all this is bigger than I am, and some day, soon, it would get the better of me and I should be compelled to go.”

“Well, well!” His father was obviously worried. “So you have made up your mind. You refuse to go back to your work here?”

“I should rather not. And, let Wellman stay.”

“I’ll see. Now you go straight home and wait for me there. This thing will have to be settled one way or the other.”

As David left the building his mind was filled with so many things that it was impossible to think clearly on any one of them. Two things kept recurring to him, however, because they had been so unexpected. The first was that his father had taken sides with him in the controversy, had admitted that he was right and that Wellman was in the wrong; he had even gone so far as to volunteer to discharge the old and valued employe. And the second was that for the first time his parent had indicated a willingness to seriously listen to the thing he felt best suited him and for which he was eager to sacrifice his enviable prospects as a man of the business world.

He could hardly wait to tell his mother. She had always been a sympathetic listener and while she had never greatly encouraged him in his ambition she had never discouraged him.

It was, therefore, a source of disappointment to him to find upon reaching home that his mother was not there. She had an appointment for luncheon, the cook informed him, and would go to a club meeting after that. It was impossible to draw any further information from the cook. David suspected that she knew more, but to his casual remark that she must have decided rather suddenly to go, there came no response. Evidently the cook had orders not to talk, so he did not question her further.

The afternoon seemed like a year. He tried to read a magazine; then a book, but after turning a few pages he was forced to admit that he did not know what he was reading about, so he closed it with a bang and calling Spike, his terrier, went for a walk in the garden.

David had just passed his twenty-first year. He was tall, of athletic build, with dark hair and eyes. There was the look of determination in his face that caused others instinctively to respect him. And his regular, pleasant features bespoke intelligence and breeding. If his natural bent could only be diverted into the proper channel, there was no question but that inborn ability and determination would make themselves felt, and in no uncertain manner.

His father and mother returned just in time for dinner. That there was anything unusual about this did not occur to David for, often when his mother chanced to be in the vicinity of the office in the late afternoon she dropped in and the two motored home together.

The conversation during the meal was a conventional one. It was not until later when the three were together in the library that the subject uppermost in David’s mind was broached.

“I have been talking this thing over with your mother,” his father began abruptly. “There is but one thing in our minds. Regardless of how we feel about it personally, we must consent to the course that seems best for your own good.”

David said nothing, but looked expectantly at his mother.

“Are you sure, David?” she asked in a low voice. “Is your mind made up definitely? Is there not the least possibility that you may want to reconsider? Remember you are young. A mistake may mean the loss of years, perhaps, that will never return. Here you have rare opportunities to make both name and fortune. It would be well to think of these things and to try to picture what it will mean to you to give up a certainty for an uncertainty, for you know very little about the course you are favoring.”

“I have thought of all that,” he said uncomfortably, “and I wish I could feel differently, for your sake. But I just can’t help it. I have always wanted to be out in the open where there is room to see and do things.”

For a moment nothing was said.

“Well,” his father finally ventured with a sigh, “then there is nothing for us to do but to give you the chance you think we owe you. Be sure that you are sure. Take a few weeks to think it over in. But you must promise one thing. If we let you go and you don’t make good or find out that you were mistaken after all, you will come back to the office and buckle down to hard work and never mention the subject again.”

“I don’t need the time; my mind is made up now. And, I promise; but I will get along all right and in the end you will be glad you let me try it.”

They insisted on the time for reflection, however, and during the two weeks that followed no mention was made of the matter. David did not go back to the office; he spent the days, and parts of the nights, too, in reading books on agriculture. These consisted mainly of government publications, long possessed and secretly cherished. He had read them so often that he was sure he knew all about farming and ranching; in fact, when he should use all this information together with some ideas of his own that he had worked out, he should greatly improve if not revolutionize the whole farming and ranching business.

When the two weeks had expired there was another council in the library.

“What is the verdict?” his father asked. “Will you go or will you stay?”

“I want to go just as soon as possible.”

“Have you considered the matter fully from all angles?”

“Yes, I have.”

“And you still feel that your calling is out in the country?”

“Be absolutely sure of yourself before you answer,” his mother cautioned.

“I am sure. I feel that when I get away from the noise and hurry and confinement of the city I can accomplish more in a week than I could here in a year.”

“And, if after trying it you find that you have been mistaken?”

“I shall come back at once and do exactly as I promised.”

“That settles it. You shall have your chance and it will be a rare one even though you cannot realize at what cost to us.” He shot a quick glance at his wife; her eyes were glistening.

“The fact that we have known of your ambition for a long time does not make it easier for us, for you will be far, far away. That alone will give you the opportunity to show your mettle. I think it best that it should be so, for you will be thrown entirely upon your own resources. Either you will become discouraged quickly and come back ready to take our advice, or you will do big things.”

“Where?” David asked in an awed voice. “Where am I going?”

“To South America, because there real opportunities exist for the right man.”

“South America?”

“Yes. Dan Rice, a former client of mine, has a ranch in the Argentine. He went down fifteen years ago. He was a born stock man and made a huge success of the venture. I enquired about him and learned that he is opening a new place in Brazil, somewhere in the Upper Amazon country, above the city called Manaos. I shall send you to him. If ever there was a person who could judge men and get the best out of them, Rice is the one. What do you say?”

“I don’t know what to say except to thank both of you for letting me go. It is better than I even dreamed of. It will be wonderful!”

“Good! I only hope you will not be too greatly disappointed when you get there.”

They continued the discussion far into the night; but the thing the elder Jones did not tell his son was that he had already sent cablegrams to Rice in Manaos in an attempt to make arrangements for his coming. A very short time in the steaming and insect-infested tropics would be sufficient to cause a change of heart, he felt sure. The fact that he was in a wild country thousands of miles away from home and among strangers would hasten it and make it more emphatic. And, once his illusions were dispelled, David would be ready to settle down and do as he was told.

As for David, he was too elated for words. “I am going at last,” he kept repeating to himself. “My luck has changed! My luck has changed!”

But David was quite forgetful of the fact that there are two kinds of luck, good and bad; and that the former seldom lasts long, while the latter is inclined to linger with a most disheartening persistency, and then grow worse.

Chapter II

David Leaves Home

David was so excited over his proposed trip to a real ranch in South America that he found sleep impossible on the night following the momentous decision.

His head felt like a whirling mass that refused to come to a standstill. He thought of a hundred things that he wanted to do all at once, but the thoughts rushed back and forth and around in circles so that he could not disentangle a single one to start with.

He was going to have his wish at last; that much he realized. And South America at that! The very words were awe-inspiring. They suggested mighty rivers, vast jungles where monkeys formed living chains or bridges to span the streams, by clutching one another’s tails; and where giant snakes drooped like garlands from the branches of great trees while myriads of gorgeous birds and shimmering butterflies fluttered among the bright-colored flowers. These sights must be common ones, for had not the geographies pictured them as typical of the Southern Continent?

David did not care, particularly, for some of the things he was sure he should encounter--especially the snakes and the crocodiles. But, of course, a ranch would not be situated out in the jungle; it would have to be in the open where there was grass for the cattle. He tried to picture such a place. A long, rambling building painted white, with a few palm trees in front under which saddled horses were waiting patiently for their riders; more trees, of some kind or other, nearby, in the shade of which men dressed in buckskins, with fringes on their breeches and great, leather gauntlets on their arms, were sprawled on the grass, their wide-brimmed hats lying on the ground where they had been carelessly tossed by their owners.

All about stretched the rolling meadows, miles and miles, dotted with herds of cattle peacefully grazing on the long, green grass.

That was the picture that formed itself in his mind. But the things that did not occur to him, the things the geographies did not mention and that no one had told him about, so far, were the blistering heat of the tropics that could scorch and burn as mercilessly as the blast from a furnace; the insect pests that rendered life all but unendurable; the fevers that sapped one’s vitality; and the monotony of existence in far-away, lonely places with only the treacherous half-breeds and stolid Indians for companions. It was just as well that these unpleasant details and many others of similar nature remained in the obscure background; he would make their acquaintance soon enough.

“Better decide on what you want to take with you,” his father advised the next day. “You will not need anything fancy, and keep the amount down as much as possible. Talk it over with your mother.”

That was good advice and David followed it. But it required nearly one full day to make out the list, go over it carefully, strike out some items, add others, and then start over again with the ever-present suspicion that something of importance had been forgotten.

“I’ll tell you what,” he said finally, “I am not going to take anything except a few clothes to wear on the trip, one khaki outfit and a gun. How do I know what is proper down there? I might take down a lot of things only to find that they are not suitable in that climate. And the other fellows working on the ranch must get their clothes somewhere in the neighborhood, so I can, too, after I find out exactly what I need.”

His mother promptly agreed that that was the sensible thing to do. Only, she added, a few good books might prove not unwelcome companions on such a trip, so David promptly packed his volumes on cattle and agriculture as well as a few favorite others.

The news of his intended journey spread rapidly among his friends and acquaintances. They immediately divided into two factions; one considered him the luckiest mortal in the world while the other thought he was the most foolish person imaginable.

David pitied them all, impartially. No matter how they felt, they were all doomed to remain behind, chained to the treadmill of city existence, while he was the one to go forth into God’s great world with only the horizon to mark the boundary of his vision and activity.

“I cannot understand it,” Mr. Jones announced one evening soon after. “Rice has not answered my cable. Perhaps he has given up the ranch and gone to other parts. I am sorry, but you may not go after all. Too bad, after all the anticipation.”

David’s heart sank.

“Rice or no Rice, I am going just the same,” he announced.

“But where to? If he has gone away there will be no place to which you can go.”

“He couldn’t take the ranch with him, could he? If he has gone someone else must have it. And even if that outfit is out of existence there must be plenty of others. I am not fussy over where I make my start.”

“Very well. So far as this proposition is concerned you shall have your own way. But you cannot blame me for being concerned about your welfare.”

“Of course not. But at the same time, please don’t forget that I am not a baby. I can take care of myself.”

His father bit his lip. His eyes narrowed as he regarded his son. And in that instant an idea came to him.

“Just as you say,” he said quietly. “It will be your chance to show me just what you can do. The _Morales_ sails a week from today and I shall make a reservation for you. In the meantime, I shall send other cables; you may go regardless of whether there are answers or not. Is that satisfactory?”

“It’s splendid. I won’t sleep a wink until then.”

On the eve of the great day the little group around the dinner table was very silent.

“Rice has answered at last,” Mr. Jones said suddenly.

“What did he say?” asked David, eagerly.

“Never mind what he said. You are determined to go, anyway, so it makes no difference.”

“But does he want me to come?” David persisted.

“Suppose he does?”

“I should go, of course.”

“And if he does not?”

“I should go anyway. I am all ready, my ticket is bought and I couldn’t think of backing out. I should never hear the last of it.”

“You are quite right. Everything is arranged, however, and I want you to go. You will do just as you planned.”

David thought he noticed an amused expression on his father’s face, but he was not quite sure. It did seem, though, that his manner had changed remarkably in the last few days. His former reluctance had given way to seeming eagerness. But in the feverishness of his excitement David did not appraise these observations at their proper value and soon forgot them entirely.

At last the memorable day actually arrived. The weeks of waiting had seemed an eternity. But here he was, aboard the great boat; some of the people about him were crying and for a moment he felt a strange feeling coming upon him. Going was not so easy as he had thought. Just then the bell warned all visitors to go ashore and amid the last farewells he was reminded of one thing.

“Do not forget,” his father said, “you may return at any time you like and you will be welcome at home. Even if you stay only a few days, the experience of the voyage will be of value and you will be more content to settle down. Perhaps you will be back soon.”

They went ashore. The gangway was raised and the engines began to throb ever so slowly as the ship backed out of her berth. Not long after that the boat was well out in the bay and the crowd that lined the dock merged into a waving mass in which it was impossible to distinguish anyone.

Those last words filled David with something like resentment.

“Perhaps you will be back soon!” Indeed! What did his father mean by that? Well, they would have to wait a long time before seeing him again. Upon that point he was determined. No matter what happened, he would not return home very soon. He would stick it out in the face of every obstacle and difficulty that might block his path. He would show them that he could make good if he but had the opportunity and the opportunity had come at last.

By that time the ship was well down the harbor, so he sought his cabin to unpack his baggage. Upon entering he found a man several years his senior busily engaged straightening out his own effects.

“My name is Rogers,” said the stranger, extending his hand. “I guess we share this place.”

“Glad to know you. My name is Jones.”

“Well, as we are going to bunk together for a while I suppose we might as well toss a coin for the berths.”

So saying, Rogers fished a dime out of his pocket.

“What will it be?” he asked.

“I’ll take heads,” David replied.

Rogers tossed the coin into the air.

“Tails, you lose, Jones,” he said. “So I will take the lower. Anyway, you are younger and more spry than I am, so you will not mind climbing into the upper.”

The conversation continued while they unpacked their luggage and the older man gave David a good deal of information, having noticed that he had not been to sea before. David rather liked Rogers and felt that this was the beginning of a pleasant friendship.

* * * * *

Dinner in the Jones household was a quiet, solemn affair that night.

“Wellman played his part to perfection,” the father said finally. “Too well, in fact. For a while I was afraid David would agree with me that he should be discharged. But I am proud of the stand he took. He acted just as I would have had him do.”

“Are you sure he does not suspect the plan was pre-arranged?”

“Yes, he thought Wellman was serious in calling him down. He was going from bad to worse--through no fault of his own, I will admit. He tried hard to make good but could not; and he never will until he forgets those ideas with which his head is crammed. Only then will he come back to earth and buckle down to his job.”

“Do you think he will be back soon?”

“Yes, I think so. When he sees what he is compelled to endure in Brazil he will become disillusioned in short order. I know what I am talking about and so I think a short time of it will be all he wants. Three months, at most.”

Mr. Jones spoke with an air of finality. The ability to look ahead and forecast the outcome of things had in a large measure placed him on the pinnacle of success he occupied. But for once, and in spite of carefully arranged plans, he was doomed to disappointment. For the son possessed all the advantage; he was entering with unbounded enthusiasm a field for which he had prepared himself, however slightly, and of which he therefore had some knowledge, while the father was making predictions as to the outcome of affairs of which he knew nothing.

Chapter III

The Amazon

Early the next morning David became aware of the fact that he had embarked on a stormy voyage. The ship rolled and pitched in an alarming manner. He could hear the shrieking and moaning of the wind and feel the vessel tremble as the waves struck the steel sides with a muffled roar.

At first he did not know just what to make of it, so he groped for the switch and turned on the light. Rogers was sleeping soundly in the berth below. There was no one stirring on deck or in the passageway, so he came to the conclusion that a storm was not an unusual occurrence and that everyone took it as a matter of fact, so he snapped off the light.

But it was far from comfortable, this rolling and tossing, and sleep was impossible. Daylight soon came, however, and with it the bustle and sound of voices on deck incident to life aboard ship.

“Going down to breakfast?” Rogers enquired, holding to a hand-rail with one hand while he calmly shaved with the other. He seemed to mind not at all the lurching of the boat.

“I guess not; I don’t feel hungry,” David replied in a weak voice.

“Sick?”

“A little. It’s not so bad while I lie still; but when I try to get up my head spins.”

“Never mind. It will soon pass. Better have a cup of coffee; then you will feel better. I’ll ring for the steward.”

“No, don’t. Please, let’s talk about something else; anything but food. Will the storm last long?”

“It may clear up later. If it gets calmer come out for a walk on deck. The fresh air is a good tonic,” and he strode out of the room.

But the storm did not subside. It lasted two whole days and three nights. By that time David was so ill he was compelled to remain in his berth another full day to recuperate sufficiently to venture out.

The fresh air and the bright sunshine on the upper deck worked wonders. Added to these, long walks back and forth, a few games of shuffleboard and an occasional dip in the ship’s swimming tank soon restored his good health and usual cheerful manner.

“You expect to work on a ranch in Brazil, eh?” Rogers commented one morning as they leaned over the rail to watch the flyingfish startled by the prow of the boat as she cut her way through the glassy water.

“I not only expect to but I am going to,” David returned promptly.

“How long are you going to stay?”

“A long, long time. In fact, I haven’t thought of going back. I had better get there first.”

“Know anything about ranching?”

“Not much; but I can learn.”

“Know anything about Brazil or what you are going to be up against?” Rogers persisted.

“Not a thing.”

“Do you know what I think?”

“I’m not a mind-reader.”

“Well, I think you are foolish to try it.”

“Thank you,” David replied promptly.

“I mean it.”

“I can’t help what you think,” pleasantly. “My head is working overtime figuring out my own things.”

“I would not go where you are going for a thousand dollars a month.”

“Neither would I. I am doing this because I am interested in it and want to learn. Office work, no matter how easy, is unbearable to me because I don’t like it. Outdoor work, no matter how hard, will be fun because I do like it.”

“I went to Manaos once, and that was far enough,” Rogers proceeded. “The heat, the rains, the mosquitoes, in fact everything that makes life miserable was there in too great abundance to suit me. If I were in your place I should go up the river for the sake of the trip. The Amazon country is great--to see from the deck of the steamer. Look at it until you have your fill and then go back to the good position you left. I am telling you right now that you are making a big mistake, and you will regret it.”

“It’s very kind of you to take such an interest in me, but you must think I am a jellyfish. There is no use saying anything more. My mind is made up. I wouldn’t even think of backing out--not for the world,” Jones asserted in no uncertain accents.

“All right. Think it over.” Rogers yawned and went to his deck chair, while David took a small, red volume from his pocket and devoted his time to the study of Portuguese.

The days slipped by pleasantly and quickly. The water assumed a deeper blue color and great rafts of seaweed dotted the surface. The air was balmy and delightful.

There was always something new and interesting to see. The birds in particular attracted David’s attention, especially the man-o’-war birds that soared on motionless, narrow wings hour after hour and, it was said, day after day, in the cloudless sky. They rarely slept or rested but sailed on tireless pinions as if they enjoyed it, bent on some mission none could fathom. Then there were the little petrels or Mother Carey’s chickens, as the sailors called them, fluttering and skipping over the water like huge, black grasshoppers; they appeared in greatest numbers on those rare occasions when the ship passed through a choppy stretch of water.

Some of the barren, rocky islands were fairly teeming with boobies, jaegers, gannets and other feathered lovers of the briny deep. They sat on the shelflike ledges running along the faces of the cliffs like the tiers of beads on an abacus. Other swarms filled the air, fluttering, soaring, circling and wheeling amidst squawks and screams while still other hordes sat motionless on the water.

The jaegers were the pirates of the deep. They waited until the smaller birds returned from their successful fishing excursion, then attacked them until they disgorged their catches which they greedily appropriated to their own use.

These sights fascinated David. How different from the imprisonment of the city! And this was but a taste of what he was to see, a sample of the free life in the open for which he longed.

After nearly two weeks sailing he came on deck one morning to find that the color of the water had changed overnight. Instead of the clear, crisp blue the ship was ploughing her way through a sea of yellow that extended to the horizon on every side. He called the matter to the attention of Rogers.

“That muddy water is discharged by the Amazon,” the latter said.

“But we are not near the river yet,” David remarked incredulously. “There is no land in sight.”

“No, we are not near the river and will not be until some time tomorrow. Even if we were in the very center of the Amazon you could not see the banks, for the river is about one hundred and fifty miles wide at its mouth. The quantity of water it carries into the ocean is so enormous that it keeps its yellow color several hundred miles out at sea before the mud settles and the fresh water is thoroughly mixed with and absorbed by the brine of the ocean.”

The next evening they saw the first indication of land. At first there were only long lines of white far in the distance where breakers were dashing over the low sandbars that checked their onward sweep. Later, they distinguished small, dark tufts, like feather dusters, outlined against the clear sky; these were coconut palms growing on the outlying islands. And before long the first land--dim strips of dark color seemingly suspended between the water and the sky, met their gaze.

At night they entered the river proper. It was too dark to see anything, but David was so excited he could hardly sleep. Here he was, on the mighty Amazon, and it was not a dream either. What tales the silent water could tell could it but talk! What had the stream witnessed, on its journey through many thousands of miles of wilderness and jungle inhabited by savage beasts and equally savage peoples! And what secrets were locked up in that outwardly calm, yellow flood! The very air seemed saturated with mystery, romance and adventure. And here he was, alone and foot-free and eager to absorb his full share of everything this wonderful country offered.

With daylight came disappointment. Instead of the wide expanse of water David had expected to see there was only a narrow channel through which the ship proceeded with caution. Both banks were covered with heavy, deep green vegetation, extending to the edge of the river. Creepers and ropelike lianas dangled from the branches and trailed in the water; climbing ferns and palms and a host of other plants clinging to the boughs and trunks united them into a solid wall of living green.

Here and there a bright-colored flower glowed brilliantly against the darker background and from the interior of the tangled, matted screen came subdued cries and screams. A flock of green parrots, flying low, passed overhead and then dived into the jungle on the other side and disappeared. There were fully a hundred birds in the party, but they flew two by two, with a peculiar fanning motion of the wings, like a duck’s.

One of the branches on the side nearest the steamer stirred and someone shouted “monkeys.” David looked but saw only the swaying vegetation which moved as if agitated by a gust of wind.

“I am sorry I missed them. I have never seen a wild monkey,” he said.

“You will see plenty of them before long; and not only see but get real well acquainted with them,” Rogers volunteered.

“You mean they are tame and come to the camps in the forests?”

“Not exactly. You will have to live on them.”

“What? Eat monkeys?” David asked in dismay.

“Certainly. Everyone does in the bush. The Indians eat everything--monkeys, crocodiles, snakes and lizards. And if you want to live out in the wilderness you shall have to do as they do because there is no other way out of it. You will be thankful for whatever you find whether you like it or not.”

“But the rivers must be full of fish,” David reminded him.

“They are. Catching them is another proposition though. Besides, there is nothing in the world a white man becomes so tired of as fish if he eats it day after day.”

“Why worry?” David said it bravely, but a sigh escaped him. “If that is the custom here I guess I can get used to it.”

The prospect of having to eat monkeys, as he knew them in the zoo at home, was not a pleasant one and the thoughts that were in his mind were reflected in the expression on his face. Rogers gave him a sharp glance, then walked away; he was finding his task a difficult one.

The first stop was at Pará, and as the steamer carried a quantity of freight for that port and was to remain two days there was ample time for sightseeing ashore.

The feel of solid ground under his feet was very welcome to David; and to enter the low-lying city beside the river was like stepping into fairyland.

How different everything was from the life and living conditions of a temperate clime. Instead of the tall buildings and wide streets bustling with humanity there were blocks of low, white structures, narrow, crooked streets lined with drooping, swaying palms; and the people, of every shade from white to black, seemed to take things in a leisurely manner.

It was warm--disagreeably warm at midday and during the early afternoon hours--but David was too interested in his surroundings to take much note of the heat. He tramped the streets and tried to see everything that unfolded itself before his eyes.

The flaming _Jacaranda_ trees that thrust themselves upon one’s notice through the sheer boldness of their beauty fascinated him. Not extremely tall but with wide-spreading branches they looked like enormous bouquets so thickly were they covered with purplish flowers with only an occasional tuft of fern-like leaves to enhance their beauty.

There were palms without number. Some grew tall and stately with crowns of gracefully drooping leaves; others had bent, spiny stems; and still others had shocks of ragged, split leaves perched on the top of thick, ringed trunks.

A curio store just off the main thoroughfare attracted David’s attention and after gazing at the display in the windows for some time he decided to investigate the mysteries inside so forcefully suggested by the objects in front. He had always intended to make a collection of butterflies and other things and here was the opportunity to start it. But the door was locked. He tried the door of the next shop; it, too, was bolted. A passing policeman, observing his actions, volunteered the information that everything would be closed until later in the afternoon because the people were taking a nap during the hottest part of the day. And as David strolled down the street he rejoiced that the curio store had been closed, for what could he have done with the butterflies if he had purchased them? They were too fragile to carry around for months in the wilderness; and he would no doubt have the opportunity personally to collect all he wanted at the ranch.

The afternoon being spent, the wanderer went back to the waterfront and boarded the steamer, and remained aboard for the night. There followed another day of sight-seeing, confined principally to the numerous little parks, and then the voyage was resumed up the river.

David remained on deck as the steamer headed up the sluggish, muddy stream and enjoyed the changing vistas of broad expanses of water and the dark green of the vegetation that contrasted sharply with it. Then he went to his cabin to wash up for dinner. And there was Rogers examining a number of souvenirs he had purchased in Pará; a medly array of feather flowers, Indian head-dresses and the skins of birds and snakes was spread on the floor and chairs.

“You still here?” David asked in surprise. He had not seen him since saying good-bye the morning they reached the port, as Rogers had stated that he was going no further than Pará.

“Yes, I am going to stick around a while longer--until we get to Manaos, to be exact,” Rogers replied in a matter-of-fact voice.

“Great! But you changed your mind rather suddenly, didn’t you? I hardly expected to see you again.”

“I did intend to go only to Pará, but I found that my affairs had not been settled. So I have to keep on going. But I do not mind. The trip up the river is interesting.”

“Say, Rogers,” David asked suddenly. “What is your business anyway? I don’t like to be inquisitive; that is why I didn’t ask before now. But I am filled with curiosity.”

“It is of a personal nature; sorry I cannot go into greater detail but that would be violating a confidence,” and Rogers looked embarrassed.

“I see,” David said simply, but he could not get the matter off his mind, try as he would. And to make things worse he could see no reason why Rogers’ affairs should cause him any concern.

To spend six days on the mighty Amazon is an event in any man’s life; to David it was the greatest he had experienced. Each morning when the noise of the deck scrubbers awakened him he jumped from his berth and after dressing hastily went on deck to see the sun rise. On no two mornings was the awe-inspiring spectacle that unfolded itself before his eyes the same in all respects. Sometimes the flaming, angry ball of fire shot up as if from some place of concealment beyond the black wall of forest; once it rose out of the yellow flood, at the foot of a wide path of gold and pink light that danced and sparkled on the wave-crests; and again, there were but fleeting glimpses of shafts of bright light that darted through rifts in the cloud-banks whose edges were aglow with burnished silver.

When the forested banks were visible they always loomed up like dark, impenetrable barriers; but as the light grew stronger the blurred outlines of trees, palms and a thousand points of vegetation gradually became clearer and finally revealed their identity.

The forest enchanted the beholder. It exhaled an air of mystery, the promise of adventure; and at the same time it hurled a bold defiance. “Come, ferret out my secrets, search for my treasures,” it seemed to say, “and I will overwhelm you, engulf you and you will be no more. But come, come, if you dare.”

David read both the invitation and the challenge; and with more determination than ever, he accepted them.

Nothing was seen of the wild life with which the jungle must have been teeming. Perhaps it was because the walls of vegetation were so dense they hid the creatures that lurked within their green depths. Then, too, the river was frequently so wide that the banks could scarcely be distinguished, showing only as low, dark lines in the hazy distance.

Occasionally a flock of ducks passed overhead. There were gulls also, and other waterfowls. But far more numerous were the parrots and great macaws, in large, boisterous companies that winged their way heavily across the wide expanse of water. From a distance the parrots resembled the ducks but there was always the easily noticeable difference, that no matter how large their number, they always flew two by two.

“Where are all the crocodiles?” David asked the captain of the ship one day as the latter stopped beside him at the railing. “And the big water snakes and other things you hear about the Amazon?”

The captain looked at him in an amused manner.

“They are here, that is the crocodiles are, but the water is too high to see them,” he said. “During the dry season the sand bars and islands are covered with them. There are plenty of anacondas, too, but they stay around the banks. So you are going into the interior, I hear!”

“Yes, to a ranch that’s just starting up,” David replied.

“Well, you’ll see all the snakes and other vermin you want, and more too.”

“Fine! I have never been here before and I want to see everything there is to be seen.”

“You had better look fast then, because you won’t stay long. They all go back pretty quick.”

“Not I. I am going into the business for good.”

“That’s what they all say. And I carry them back home on the next boat.”

“You will not carry me back on the next boat, nor on the trip after that either.” David was losing patience.

“If you knew what’s in store for you you wouldn’t even go ashore when we get to Manaos; you would come right back home with me on this trip. And that is what I would advise you to do.”

“Thank you,” and David walked away.

They made short stops at the more important towns along the river, to deliver mail and unload freight.

The waterfront in these places always teemed with dark-skinned natives. Long lines of men, stripped to the waist, were carrying bags of produce to barges moored to the banks, waiting for steamers going downstream. Groups of other men lounged on the docks or came to the ship in row-boats, offering fruit for sale.

David was greatly surprised to see the barges of Brazil nuts that were being transferred to a steamer outward bound. The nuts--he had no idea there were so many in the world, were handled just like coal. They were scooped out of the barges in steam shovels and dumped into the hold of the boat, where they disappeared in the seemingly insatiable, black void. Many were spilled overboard and others rained on the deck, but no one cared.

There were cargoes of rubber, too, large, oblong balls, or thick bricks that must have weighed several hundreds of pounds. But David was to see enough of them later and under less attractive circumstances.

On the sixth day they reached the junction of the Rivers Negro and Solimoes.

“This is the end of the Amazon,” Rogers explained as they gazed at the sweep of the mighty streams.

“The end?” David asked in surprise. “I always thought of the Amazon as a river three or four thousand miles long.”

“The Amazon proper is only about one thousand miles long. But the Solimoes continues on a few thousand more and is in reality the Upper Amazon. Here is a map that shows it.”

He drew a folder out of his pocket and they spread it on the foot of a deck chair.

“See?” Rogers said, “Manaos is ten miles up the Rio Negro which comes from the north-west. The Solimoes comes from the west and has its source near Quito, Peru. It is navigable, too, almost the whole of its length in boats of some kind. As I said, though, you have seen all of the real Amazon. Now, are you satisfied?”

“What do you mean?”

“Have you seen enough?”

“Of the river and country? I should say not. I haven’t even started. What I have seen has only aroused my curiosity and a stronger desire for more. I can hardly wait to get into the interior. Think of what is behind those walls of forest!”

“Mosquitoes, snakes and cannibals.”

“Good! They are just what I want to see.”

Rogers sighed but David did not notice it. He folded the map and put it back into his pocket.

In another hour they had reached Manaos.

Chapter IV

Rogers’ Work

Manaos is a surprisingly large city for one that is situated in such an out of the way place, but there is nothing bewildering or startling about it. In some respects it is very much like the larger but more backward towns of our own country but in most it is very different.

The first thing to thrust itself upon the visitor’s notice is the intense heat; all the sun’s rays seem to converge in the depression in which Manaos nestles. An inspection of the place, however, reveals compensating virtues in the form of green, shady parks, cooling fountains, and comfortable hotels for the traveller.

David was not particularly interested in the city although he took note of some of the more unusual features; he had seen Pará which had impressed him as being more attractive. He felt that enough time had been spent already in travel and in sight-seeing and he was eager to start work. So he lost no time in going to the hotel where someone from the ranch was to meet him, in accordance with the arrangements that he supposed had been made by cable before he left home.

No doubt Mr. Rice had come to welcome him personally, he thought; and he was more than disappointed to learn that such was not the case.

“Senhor Rice has not been here in weeks,” the proprietor of the hotel told him in answer to his questioning.

“But he was either to be here or to send someone,” David protested. “I am going to his ranch and they were to come for me.”

“Here is the list of patrons. You may read it. Do you recognize any of the names?”

David scanned the page of the register and admitted that the names were all unfamiliar to him.

“I would recognize only Mr. Rice’s name,” he added, “and that is not there.”

“No, the Senhor is not here.”

“Didn’t someone else say he expected me? There must be somebody here who is hunting for me right this minute.”

The Brazilian shrugged his shoulders.

“Oh, I understand now,” David explained, with a smile. “Whoever is coming hasn’t arrived. He might have been delayed accidentally or perhaps he thought the steamer was not due today. I’ll wait and everything will be all right. When I am asked for, remember that I am here. And, if a message or letter comes, give it to me without delay.”

The whole explanation seemed so simple to David. It must be exactly as he had said. It was not in the least remarkable that one should miss connections in a land lacking the elaborate facilities for travel his own country boasted. He wondered how the matter could have caused him concern and why he had not thought of the solution before.

Half an hour later he left his room and in passing through the corridor could not resist the impulse to step into the office to make another inquiry. But the answer was the same. There was nothing new, no message; nor had anyone arrived from the ranch.

“Tomorrow, probably,” he thought, “and if not then, the day after that without fail. I must learn to be patient although they should apologize for keeping me waiting.”

In the meantime, he would see what there was of interest in the city, and by asking questions learn as much as possible about the country of the hinterland.

He had not gone two blocks before he met Rogers. The latter was stopping aboard the ship; he felt sure that he could wind up his affairs during the week the vessel lay in port and had engaged passage for the return journey.

“Hello!” he greeted David cheerfully. “You still here? I thought you might be on your way to the ranch by this time.”

“No, we missed connections some way. I can’t understand why, but they have not come for me yet. But I expect them any minute.”

“Still got the fever, eh? Still want to go as badly as ever?”

“I certainly have got the fever, and the temperature is going up.”

“Say, you know what I said to you before--I think you are one foolish person.”

“Look here, Rogers,” David retorted hotly. “Why are you so concerned over my affairs? I didn’t insist on knowing what brought you here but you keep harping about my business all of the time. Now forget it.”

“If that is the way you feel, I shall not mention it again,” Rogers stammered, looking offended. “But--but just because I do not mention it will not make me feel differently about it. I am sorry you are so set on doing something you will surely regret.”

“Good-bye.” David wanted to fight but he dared not, remembering past experiences and their consequences, so he quickly continued on his way.

Three days passed and still David remained unsought by anyone from the ranch. The fact began to worry him.

He had spent the time alternately waiting in the hotel and tramping the streets. The very sight of the Teatro Nacional, at first so imposing on its built-up pedestal that covers an entire city block; the plazas with their tropical trees, shrubs and dazzling flowers; the hot, winding streets; and the parrots shrieking and squawking from their perches in the doorways of the squat, thick-walled buildings; all began to pall on him. He had not come all that distance to see cities; if that had been his desire he might have remained at home. What he longed for was the great outdoors and the myriad, varied possibilities it brought with it.

Why did not they come or at least communicate with him? he asked himself again and again. He could bear the suspense no longer. He would communicate with them.

The telephone occurred to him first of all as the most rapid means but, of course, there was no service to Las Palmas. Nor was it possible to send a telegram. A letter was the only thing he could think of; but when they called for the letter they would also come for him. So there was in reality no way of communicating with them after all.

In desperation, he went to the owner of the hotel and told him what was on his mind.

“If they knew you were coming and wanted you at Las Palmas, they would have been here,” the latter said. “What do you expect to do there, anyway? My advice would be to go back home, if you asked me. You will be better off there.”

“Good Heavens! This is beginning to look like a conspiracy of some kind,” David started, but checked himself. Again the visions of past experiences loomed up before him. He would endure almost anything rather than take a single chance of spoiling this new and greatest of all ventures. So he turned and walked away.

“I know what I’ll do,” he decided. “I’ll see the American Consul. He will fix me up.”

Just as he turned to enter the doorway beneath the shield that served as the guiding sign to the consul’s office he almost collided with Rogers coming out.

They exchanged greetings and each went his way.

After waiting a few minutes in the anteroom he was admitted to the official’s presence and briefly explained his mission. The consul listened impatiently for a minute and then interrupted the recital.

“You will never get on there,” he said. “It is no place for an American without practical experience. Las Palmas is a particularly bad place and Rice is a terrible person--they call him the viper.”

David was boiling within, but said nothing, so the official continued:

“The ranch is a new one, just being opened up. No one but the natives and Indians can do the clean-up work that is in progress now. You would die in a little while if you tried it. I will fix up your passport and you start back on the next boat.”

“I see,” said David simply, without betraying his feeling. “Thank you for your offer but I cannot accept it just now for I am certainly not going back home. I came to stay.”

“Stay and you will be sorry.”

“That’s up to me. And if Mr. Rogers comes to see you again, give him a passport. I intend to see to it that he leaves the country on the next boat.”

The air in the street lacked the cooling quality necessary to restore David’s ruffled temper. Heat-waves rose from the flag-stones and smote him in the face and the slight eddies that whirled around the corners could have come out of the mouth of a furnace--they were so stifling.

The truth of the whole matter dawned upon David at last. Rogers was the cause of all the discouragements he had met. The business upon which he had come was to try to persuade him to return home. He had been sent for that purpose. He chuckled grimly as he thought how Rogers would have to report failure of his mission. They would see that he was not a quitter. He did not blame his father for guarding his welfare but he would prove to the world that he could look after his own interest in any place and under any circumstances. The newly acquired knowledge made him more determined than ever. So, as he returned to his lodgings a plan formed itself in his mind; he would put it into effect without delay. There was but one other matter that had to be attended to first. He must see that Rogers actually sailed on the departing steamer; with him out of the way, the rest would be easy.

A full hour before the ship was due to leave, David went aboard. And about the first person he met on deck was Rogers.

“I came to see you off,” he said in a friendly manner.

Rogers looked at him with a puzzled expression on his face.

“You _are_ going, aren’t you?”

“Why, yes, I guess so.”

“Seems to me you ought to know for sure. If you don’t, I will tell you. You _are_. I am on to your game. The best thing for you to do is not to waste any more time. Tell them back home I am all right; and that you did your best to discourage me but--you know the result. I am sending letters on this same boat. Now, good-bye, and have a nice trip. I am going to wait at the dock until you are out of sight.”

For a moment Rogers did not know what to say. Then he extended his hand.

“Good-bye,” he said simply.

“No hard feelings so far as I am concerned. You went to a lot of trouble for nothing.”

“I am sorry, that is all.” Rogers appeared dejected. “And I can only hope that you will reconsider the matter before it is too late. Remember how they feel about it back home.”

David went ashore and waited. It was with a feeling of relief that he saw the ship move out into the river at last, with Rogers at the rail waving a last farewell. When the vessel finally disappeared from view he turned his steps toward that section of the riverbank where a number of launches were tied up, with their crews either aboard or on the bank.

“Where can I hire a boat?” he asked one of the men. “I want to go a short distance up the river.”

“There is the _capitain_,” the sailor replied, pointing to a man dressed exactly like the others but wearing an officer’s cap on his head.

David repeated the question to the person indicated.

“Where to?” he asked.

“The ranch Las Palmas.”

“Why don’t you go on one of the Las Palmas launches?” the captain asked abruptly.

“I would if I knew where to find one. But I have been waiting a number of days and none of their boats has put in here,” David explained.

“I will show you one. See that gray launch right over there, the _Aguila_? That belongs to the ranch.”

David could have shouted for joy. They had come for him at last. He hurried to the _Aguila_. Perhaps Mr. Rice had come in person to greet him. This was luck indeed! Probably he had hurried to the hotel with apologies for the delay; but no need for that inasmuch as he had finally come and the long wait was over. There was the possibility, however, that he was still aboard the launch.

By the time David reached the boat it was almost impossible to suppress his eagerness and excitement.

“The _Aguila_ comes from Las Palmas,” he began, “so they tell me. Is Mr. Rice on board now?”

A sailor who was washing several articles of clothing by beating them on the rocks near the water’s edge looked up.

“No,” he said. “Senhor Rice is not here. He never travels on the Aguila--it is not good enough for him.”

“Doesn’t he ever visit Manaos?”

“Yes, when there is some good reason for it but he always uses the _Indio_ which is larger and much finer; you should see it. The _Aguila_ is for the peons and the cook when they come to buy provisions.”

“Where is the _Indio_ now?” David was becoming somewhat uneasy.

“At Las Palmas.”

“Didn’t Senhor Rice say anything about coming to Manaos in the near future?”

“He never talks to the peons, so I don’t know.”

“You see,” David explained, “I am on my way to the ranch and they were to send for me.”

“_Si, Senhor._” The man now stopped washing and listened respectfully.

“Did you hear anything about that?”

“_No, Senhor._”

“When do you start back?”

“This afternoon.”

“Today?” in surprise. “When did you arrive?”

“Two days ago.”

“There must be a misunderstanding somewhere. I have been waiting a good many days and this is the first I heard of your coming, and that was by accident. Who is in charge of the boat?”

“The captain. He went with the others to get some rice and other things. He will be back soon.”

“I’ll wait, then.”

“Yes, Senhor,” and the man resumed his washing.

Here was a new predicament he had not counted on. For a while he racked his brain in an effort to disentangle the puzzle, but it was of no avail. He was compelled to give it up. There was certainly a mix-up somewhere and that was all there was to it. By and by it would be all cleared up and he would then laugh at his present anxiety and vexation.

The captain arrived before very long, followed by three men carrying heavy bags on their shoulders. He was a thick-set, burly fellow and one could tell at a glance that he was accustomed to giving orders which others dared not hesitate long in obeying. A stubby beard covered the greater part of his face effectually, concealing his features--all but the eyes--small, black and penetrating. A flat cap with a long peak was perched on the top of his head, the black hair, touched with gray, appearing under the rim in a dense, unkempt ring.

That head-dress, David was to learn later, was typical of the masters of the smaller river craft and was their only badge of position and authority for, otherwise, they were dressed exactly like their ragged crews.

David did not like the looks of the swarthy newcomer. But that did not matter. He wanted to get to Las Palmas and the man possessed the means of getting him there.

“My name is David Jones and I am from New York,” he said by way of greeting. “I have been waiting a long time for you.”

“Me? Why have you been waiting for me? What do you want?” the captain asked in surprise.

“I want to get to the ranch. Didn’t Mr. Rice instruct you to bring me out?”

“I don’t know anything about it. Nobody said a word to me.”

“Well,” David tried to conceal his impatience with a laugh, “I am expected at the ranch and I want to get there so soon as possible. I can have my baggage here in fifteen minutes.”

The captain was looking at him sharply, even suspiciously.

“Do you think this is a passenger boat?” he asked. “We don’t carry strangers without a written order from the boss.”

“But this is different,” David protested. “I am not a stranger. They are looking for me. Mr. Rice must have misunderstood the date or he would have been here personally.”

“That is not my fault,” said the captain gruffly.

“But I can go with you, can’t I?”

“No! If you knew the boss you would not ask me to take you. He is awful when anyone does a thing he don’t like. He killed a man for that very thing last week.”

“I am not afraid he’ll kill me.”

“Neither am I. I don’t care what happens to you but I do care what happens to me.”

“How soon is the _Aguila_ coming back to Manaos?” said David in despair.

“Not for six months. Next week she starts on a long trip to carry supplies to the rubber camps upriver.”

“And the _Indio_?”

“The _Indio_ has a broken propeller. They sent for a new one but it generally takes a year to get anything from abroad.”

“Say,” David was wiping his face in desperation, “I have to get to Las Palmas and that is all there is to it.”

“I have nothing against it. Get there any way you like--but not on the _Aguila_.”

A sudden idea came to him. Perhaps the fellow wanted money.

“I’ll pay you well. How much do you want?” he asked.

The Brazilian straightened up; his eyes blazed.

“Are you trying to bribe me?” he bellowed, “and right in front of my men? If you are, you’re insulting me. I am paid for my work and I want none of your money. A fine person, you are, to try to buy me to disobey my chief’s orders.”

“I did nothing of the kind,” David returned hotly. “I offered you money to pay my passage because I could hardly ask a stranger to carry me for nothing.”

“Well, I accept your explanation, but you will not go, just the same. That is settled--understand? I am very busy.” This was said in such a manner that David could not fail to grasp its significance.

He was in a quandary. It was just one discouraging thing after another. Would matters ever become straightened out? He must go on that launch, for had not the burly captain told him there would not be another in months? He made one more desperate effort.

“I am going on the _Aguila_ whether you like it or not. And when I get to Las Palmas--” he began, but the captain stopped him.

“Talk all you want to, but if I catch you aboard my boat I’ll throw you into the river,” he threatened.

David looked at the man and knew he would keep his word. His mind worked fast; he thought of one other thing.

“How soon do you start?” he asked.

“In two hours.”

“Will you take a letter for me?”

“Yes, I will take a letter or as many as you want to send, but I will not take you, so don’t ask it again. Las Palmas is no place for a foreigner. It is terrible there--snakes, insects and fevers. And the boss treats us like dogs.”

David ignored these remarks.

“I’ll go to the hotel to write the letter and will bring it to you in less than an hour.”

He hastened back to his room to prepare the missive, and ignoring a first impulse to write all that had occurred during the last hour, he only stated that he had arrived and was eager to reach the ranch, but had no way of doing so.

“When Mr. Rice gets this he’ll ask the captain questions and then he’ll be furious at the way I have been treated,” he thought. “And he’ll make him turn right around and come back for me. Then it will be my turn to show off, just as he did, and it will serve him right. He will soon find out who I am.”

He hastened back to the river to deliver the letter, and as he thought the matter over he was glad he had omitted all reference to the captain, for the latter would doubtless read it and if he found anything too personal he would destroy it.

Bad as it was, his position could have been a great deal worse. It was now a question of only a few days more of waiting. That was a certainty.

But when David reached the river, breathless and perspiring, a new calamity awaited him. The _Aguila_ was gone.

He looked up and down the river; there was no sign of the boat. As he stood on the sand, too stunned to move, a sailor came up to him and spoke sympathetically.

“Are you looking for the _Aguila_?” he asked.

David subconsciously murmered assent.

“She left over half an hour ago--right after you went away.”

“Thanks.”

David turned and slowly walked away. Try as he would to banish the feeling, there was no denying the fact that his experiences were beginning to dim the glamor of the life he had longed for; and that, too, in the face of the fact that so far he had accomplished absolutely nothing.

He went to the post office and mailed the letter, hoping that somehow or other it would reach its destination.

Chapter V

A Change Of Fortune

David felt sure that he was the most luckless of all persons. So far, about everything had gone wrong. But there must be a turning-point somewhere. It was strange how a single misunderstanding could cause so much confusion.

To make matters worse, regardless of what happened he had to accept the situation in apparent good humor, for he dared not assert himself too strongly. If there had been trouble, he would have been blamed, fairly or unfairly; that had been, almost invariably, his experience. Rather than take a single chance at spoiling this opportunity of a lifetime he would suffer in silence. But when the day came, as it surely would, when he had won his spurs, he would demonstrate that he could direct affairs as well as obey the orders of others.

He had wanted to thrash Rogers; and the American Consul should at least have been told that his duties did not include meddling in other people’s business. As for the gruff captain of the _Aguila_--he should receive his dues when the time came; Mr. Rice would of course make him regret his rude conduct toward his guest.

When David reached his hotel his indignation was still at the boiling point. He must relieve his mind to someone and that person, unfortunately, was the owner of the hotel, for he happened to be the first one he chanced to meet.

He told him the whole episode from beginning to end omitting none of the details. The man listened attentively until the recital was finished. Then he grunted, with an amused expression on his face.

“Hum! I think he did right in not taking you. His orders were clear.”

“Yes, but how about the letter? He said he was leaving in two hours and then went in half an hour.”

“There may have been a reason for the change. If you knew his boss you would not blame him for being careful. Las Palmas is a notorious place. Everyone who can, avoids it. Those who are there are slaves--they are afraid to leave. Rice has the reputation of being the worst character in the country.”

“That’s very interesting,” David retorted. “I am very glad to hear it because I had the idea that all ranch life had become tame and commonplace. It will be great to see a real place--I can hardly wait to get there.”

“And how are you going to get there?” the Brazilian asked with a smile.

“That is the question just now; but, once there, I guess I can look out for myself.”

“You can’t walk. It is many, many kilometers away. And the ranch boats, you say, will not be back in a long time.”

“Right! Still, I will find a way.”

“Let me assure you that you will not. Now listen. You do not know how lucky you are to have escaped that outfit at Las Palmas----”

“And next,” David interrupted, “you will be saying that there is a boat out of here for New York soon and I had better take it.”

The hotel man looked sheepish.

“I thought so,” David continued. “Save yourself any further trouble on my account. You take care of your business and I’ll tend mine. Please remember that.”

Leaving the astonished Brazilian he went to his room and spent the greater part of an hour looking out of the window at the little plaza across the street and--thinking.

“I can’t stay here any longer,” he finally concluded. “If I do I’ll get into a fight and I don’t want to fight. I’ll have to watch my step.”

He packed his belongings, slowly and without paying a great deal of attention to just what he was doing. When he entered the office and asked for his statement the owner of the hotel appeared grieved.

“Why are you leaving now?” he asked. “The boat does not leave until tomorrow.”

David gritted his teeth but smiled.

“I know it. But I am sailing out of here right now. How much is it? I am in a hurry.”

A moment later he stepped out into the street and turned in the opposite direction to which he intended going, knowing that inquisitive eyes were following him. A few blocks away he entered a side street and then came back toward the center of the city. He found one of the smaller inns and secured a room without arousing comment. Now he felt more free to pursue the plan he had formed for, unknown and among disinterested persons, he was more apt to get the help and information he needed. Or at least there would be no interference.

He made no inquiries until late the following morning. Haste or a show of too great eagerness might arouse suspicion. And then, after artfully swinging the conversation he had started with the clerk to hunting and to big game, he casually inquired if it would be possible to hire a launch or boat of any kind for a trip up the river.

Much to his delight he was told that such a thing could be arranged without trouble. There were numerous craft leaving the port daily that would drop him at any of the little colonies or camps situated along the river bank. The clerk even gave him the names of several persons with whom arrangements could be made for such an outing.

To David the future seemed decidedly brighter and not long after he sought the first man on his list. After locating the man--the keeper of a small shop on the Rua Amazonas, and making a trivial purchase, he remarked that he might find it necessary to make a short journey on the river and was looking for a launch he could hire by the hour or day.

The Brazilian was quick to grasp the opportunity.

“My boat is at the disposal of the Senhor,” he said. “It is a good boat, very seaworthy, and does not pitch or roll badly; that is important, for the river is so enormous and storms come up suddenly. Where do you want to go?”

“How much, by the day?” David countered.

“Sixty milreis. I will go with you and run the launch myself.”

David hesitated for a moment, as if pondering the proposition. Sixty milreis equalled twelve dollars.

“Well,” he said thoughtfully, “your price is pretty high but if the boat is extra good I guess I will take it. I want to start tomorrow.”

“How far do you want to go? I must know on account of the provisions.”

“How far can you go in one day?”

“Eighty or a hundred kilometers.”

“We can make it in a day then.”

“I shall be ready tomorrow, at any time you say,” the Brazilian said with finality.

David could have shouted for joy. At last he had found the way.

“I think an early start is best, don’t you?” he said as calmly as he could. “Six o’clock will be all right. So get everything ready today and then there will be no delays in the morning.”

“Very good. Now, exactly where do you want to go?”

Dark clouds again appeared on David’s horizon.

“To one of the ranches along the river,” he replied quickly.

“Yes, but just where? There are several and how will I know which one is the right one?”

“It makes no difference, as I am paying by the day. If it takes a little over one day I will pay you for two whole days.”

“That part of it is all right. But I am compelled to make out papers for the port officials when I carry passengers.”

“Make them when you get back. Then you will know just what to say.” The situation was desperate for David.

“I could do that,” he said thoughtfully, and again David felt elated. But after a moment the Brazilian continued, “There is only one place on the whole river to which I can take no one.”

“What place is that?” with bated breath.

“Las Palmas. That is the one ranch where a landing is forbidden.”

“Why? That is the very spot I am bound for.”

“I am sorry, but as I said, I cannot take you there. The owner is a foreigner. He is very terrible,” the Brazilian explained. “Nobody dares stop there without a written permit. It is all very mysterious and you should hear the tales that are told about the happenings at Las Palmas.”

David tried to laugh; he felt more like crying.

“It is different in my case,” he stammered. “I am expected there. Arrangements were made by cable for them to meet me here but there was some misunderstanding about the date. You will be taking no chances.”

“You do not know that outfit or you would not talk like that. I will not go.”

“I will give you twice your regular price.”

“Not for a million milreis! What good would they do me after I was full of bullets or poisoned arrows?” The shop-keeper was firm.

“Are they really so bad as all that?” David asked incredulously.

“Worse. Much worse. Once the government threatened to send soldiers there to investigate things and they sent back word to come on with the whole army but to bid it good-bye first for they would never see any part of it again. So you see what kind of people you are dealing with.”

“All right,” David assumed an indifferent air. “If you don’t want my money there are others who do.”

“Yes, Senhor. They are welcome to it.”

Seeing that argument was useless, David took his departure and went to the second man on his list.

The negotiations proceeded smoothly as before until it became necessary to disclose his destination. Then the Brazilian absolutely refused to go any further with the matter. Nor could he be swayed from his determination. He would go anywhere, even to Santa Isabel or the Cassiquiare that connects the Rio Negro with the Orinoco--trips of many weeks’ duration. But to Las Palmas? “Never!” most emphatically.

David was more crestfallen than ever as he went in search of the third man. “There is something very mysterious about all this,” he thought. “If it is really such an awful place I had better keep away from it. But I have to see it first. I can leave if I don’t like it--that is, if I ever get there.”

The interview with launch owner number three was shorter than the other two. This man was gruff, even discourteous, and wanted to know first of all where he wanted to go. And when David told him, he simply shrugged his shoulders, said “No,” and walked away.

There were still others to be seen, but David decided that he had had enough for one day. He walked to the river and looked across the broad expanse of water, ruffled by the breeze, muddy, and gliding along majestically and silently as if fully aware of its awe-inspiring grandeur and power. Where did all that water come from? Where was it going? What secrets were locked up in the pitiless flood? What strange and unknown denizens lurked in its dark depths? And, what treasures were strewn upon the bottom of the bed over which this torrent rushed, heedlessly, relentlessly and everlastingly? Day and night, rain or shine--it was always the same, oblivious to all things save only the fulfilment of some mission on which it was always hurrying, hurrying, yet seemed never to accomplish. Men might come and go--all men might come and go--but what of it? Countless numbers had done that very thing along its unreckoned shores and not a few of them had been engulfed in the heartless waters. Thousands of years old, it was nevertheless young. When other ages had passed there would be still no traces of age or decay. Always the same--always the same.

Such were the thoughts that surged through David’s mind as he gazed at the wide river, with the tiny waves laving his feet. They gave him an uncomfortable feeling such as he had not experienced before. He admired the stream for its enormity and respected its untold might; but he was not so sure that he liked it.

Numbers of dugouts, _batalaos_ and other craft were tied up along the bank. The idea came to him suddenly. If he could not hire a launch, why not take one of these? The trip would require more time and be less comfortable, but these things would be minor considerations.

He approached a group of men near one of the batalaos and asked guarded questions as to the uses to which it was put. And then he swung the conversation to navigation in general on the river; to the country bordering the stream and to kindred topics, and so secured a good deal of information that was of value to him.

He learned, for instance, that the craft was sea-worthy and was used on the longest journeys, frequently of months’ duration. That travelling in a batalao was a slow process unless the wind held out when sails were used to advantage; during the intervals of calm, oars or poles were used and even long-handled hooks to catch in the overhanging vegetation. Last of all, in answer to his question as to whether he could rent or buy such a craft, he was told that it was probably impossible to do either. All of them were owned by the proprietors of rubber concessions or similar ventures, and were employed in their service exclusively, excepting only a few in the possession of professional rivermen; these latter were usually under contract to some _patron_ and were engaged in some private pursuit such as fishing or freighting, which they could not desert.

That was the last straw. As David walked away he began to believe that he should never reach Las Palmas.

“Luck is certainly against me,” he murmured. “I’ll flip a coin to see what I’ll do. If it’s heads I will stay and keep on trying and if it’s tails I’ll--I’ll stay anyway. There must be a way of getting to that place; but I haven’t thought of it. The way will come to me--if I wait long enough.”

And come it did, sooner than he expected. The very next day the opportunity presented itself in the guise of a very large batalao that swept down the river, manned by twenty swarthy oarsmen, and joined the collection of other boats at the landing.

Somehow, that outfit was different from the others. The men did not look like the sailors along the waterfront. They spoke a different language and the Brazilians on shore did not greet them with the usual cries and banterings.

David was interested in the new arrivals at once. “The way to find out things is to ask questions,” he thought. “I will find out about them.”

He did not go to the man in charge of the batalao, but to one of the Brazilians to whom he had spoken on several other occasions.

The boat had come from Venezuela, he learned, by way of the Cassiquiare that connects the Orinoco with the Rio Negro of the Amazon side. The men were Venezuelans and were traders who plied their calling along the great rivers, visiting all the settlements and even the solitary huts, buying native produce and selling provisions, dry goods, hardware and ammunition. They travelled in a leisurely manner and knew more about the rivers and their navigation than any other persons. With them, time was no object and only when their stock of goods was on the verge of exhaustion, or when they had accumulated a cargo of native products to sell, did they make for the nearest market and base of supply. That was why they had come to Manaos now--to dispose of vanilla beans, copaiba oil, gold nuggets and a number of other things and to replenish their supply of trading articles; for now they were going to the rubber camps of the Upper Amazon, this being the season of harvest of that product. To accomplish the double object of their visit would require at least a week, probably two.

Much to his delight, David found that the pilot of the new boat had a fair knowledge of the Portuguese language--better than his own, in fact--and he struck up an acquaintance with him at once; but he did not hurry matters. There was plenty of time to cultivate friendship, and haste might cause him to be suspected of some ulterior motive.

David called at the wharf daily and finally the captain accepted his invitation and returned the visits, even remaining to dinner at the inn. They attended a performance at the Teatro Nacional later and then were firm friends.

When the craft was about ready to depart, ten days later, David suddenly announced to Don Marco, for that was the captain’s name, that he would accompany him on the trip up the river. The latter was at first surprised and then amused; it seemed a joke; but when David insisted that he was in earnest he was pleased. Only one thing puzzled him; he was not equipped to carry passengers. The crew ate almost anything, slept anywhere and shifted for itself.

David assured Don Marco that he should be contented with the same conditions. He expected no special consideration. He would even help with the work if desirable and would go as one of the party.

“If you will do that,” the captain said at last, “I shall certainly be glad to have you. But how will you get back? We may not touch at Manaos again for a year, perhaps longer.”

“That will be all right,” David replied. “You will stop at all the settlements and ranches----”

“Yes. We miss none of them.”

“Then I can stop off at one of them when I have seen enough of the river. It may be in a few days or it may be longer, according to how fast we travel.”

“Splendid. Get your things together and I will send a _mozo_ for them this afternoon. You will need a hammock, a mosquito net, and a blanket. Take anything else you want to.”

David hurried away and purchased the necessary articles. In addition, he also bought chocolate and a few other things he thought would be necessary.

For him the tide had turned. For once he was without misgivings. At last he was about to embark on the great river; it was the beginning of a long voyage, but he was eager to entrust himself to the whims of the mighty stream to be wafted wherever fate decreed--as a chip drifts and eddies in obedience to the unseen forces that control its destiny.

Chapter VI

Harpooning A River Monster

The man came, as promised, and carried the baggage from the inn to the boat. David had never lost sight of the fact that his belongings must be kept at the minimum; but he had added to them constantly--the hammock and net, for instance, and while all the articles were necessary ones, they increased the sum total until they now filled a large suit case and a bag.

He followed the sailor as soon as he could settle his account and mail a few letters he had written the night before.

It was still early in the morning. The batalao, which bore the name Elisa Ana in black letters on both sides, was scheduled to start before noon. But there were innumerable things to be attended to at the last minute. Don Marco made several trips into the city for things he had forgotten. Then the sailors went for personal supplies of matches and tobacco, which they might have purchased long before. And when, at three in the afternoon, everything was apparently in readiness, it was discovered that one of the men was missing. Two of the others were sent to find him but the trio did not show up until six o’clock. The captain was furious and berated them soundly, for now it was too late to start that day, but they would get under way very early the following morning.

They were all required to remain aboard that night. David swung his hammock in a corner indicated by Don Marco and rigged his net over it. The heat was stifling and, worse still, the hammock was most uncomfortable; it sagged low in the middle while the ends were up high, so that David had to lie on his back with his body bent like a bow. He tossed about for a while and finally decided that if he was to secure any sleep that night it would have to be elsewhere than in the hammock, so he clambered out and stretched himself on the bare boards of the little forward deck.

Don Marco had observed this action and asked the reason for it.

“I can’t sleep all doubled up in the hammock,” David explained. “The ends must be too close together, because my head and feet are way up in the air.”

“You don’t know how to use it,” the captain said with a laugh. “I will show you. Look! You have to lie crosswise, not in a straight line with the hammock.”

David tried it, lying diagonally with his head in the upper right-hand corner and his feet in the lower left-hand corner. The effect was magical. The hammock straightened out flat and he was very comfortable.

The crew was active early the next morning--long before daylight broke over the river. The cook had kindled a fire on a box of sand in the bow while the others squatted around him watching, and conversing in loud voices. When the water was bubbling he produced a container that looked like a very large pipe and filled it with leaves out of a bag.

David, looking on, thought it was some kind of a pipe and tobacco, and was therefore surprised to see the man pour the steaming water into it. Then a short stem was inserted in the top opening and the cook handed it to the captain, who proceeded to draw up the liquor through the tube. When he had drunk all of it the cook refilled the bowl with water and brought it over to David.

“What is it?” the latter asked. “Coffee?”

“No! _Yerba maté_, or Brazilian tea. It is very good. Try it.”

David did not like the idea of drinking through the tube that had already been used, but did not want to appear churlish, so took a sip. The concoction tasted bitter and astringent. He handed back the _bombilla_, for that was the name of the outfit. Don Marco and the men laughed.

“He does not like our drink,” they said, “but he will get used to it. It is very delicious and a good medicine, too, but one has to learn to drink it.”

The cook prepared coffee for David while the rest of the party continued to fill the bombilla with hot water and to pass it around from one to the other until each had had it at least half a dozen times. Occasionally it was recharged with fresh leaves, but all drank through the same tube.

Later in the day Don Marco told David a good deal about yerba maté, which seemed to be a kind of national beverage in Brazil and some of the neighboring countries, liked by rich and poor and almost universally taken from a common container such as he had seen that morning.

The plant from which the leaves are taken is a species of South American holly growing abundantly in parts of Brazil, the Argentine and Paraguay, and remaining green the year round. They are gathered while small, when they are of a light green color, by cutting the branches from the plant and heaping them in piles to dry, after which they are shaken over a cloth to catch them as they fall from the withered stems.

This tea had been the principal beverage of the Guaraní Indians when the country was first settled, and the invaders found it so excellent that they followed the custom of the aborigines in drinking it.

David became so interested in yerba maté after learning these facts that he bought an outfit of the trader for his personal use and soon learned to drink the native tea in preference to coffee.

The morning cup being over, the sailors brought in the rope hawser and took up the long-handled oars. Soon they had rowed the craft far out into the river, where the current was strongest, for they were now heading down the Rio Negro to its junction with the upper Amazon. A sail was hoisted and as there was a brisk wind they travelled at a rapid rate and reached the Amazon in less than two hours’ time.

David now had ample time to examine the boat on which he had been accepted as a fellow voyager. It was large, very large, in fact, for such a craft, being fifty feet long and twelve feet wide, but of very shallow draft. The bottom and sides were made of thick boards spiked to heavy, hand-hewn timbers. There was a small deck forward and another aft, the spaces below being used for storage, and over each was a small, rounded shelter of palm leaves.

Along each side was a runway of boards like a narrow outrigger on which the men walked when poling the boat through shallow water.

In the center was a board structure which made the batalao look like a long houseboat. This was the store and was filled with provisions and merchandise placed on shelves and in heaps on the floor. Almost everything of value to the dwellers in the interior was carried, including tinned foods, rice, beans, dried fish, oil, cloth, fish-hooks, knives and matches. Also tobacco, maté, and quantities of the staple food along the Amazon--farinha.

The men next attracted David’s attention. Although he had seen most of them during the previous days he had not had the opportunity to study them closely. There were twenty; strong, sun-burnt, good-natured and ragged, but not very energetic. However, when Don Marco shouted an order it was quickly carried out. They either respected or feared him--it was impossible to tell which.

As the boat, aided by the current, sped along, the sailors busied themselves tidying up things in general, and looking to the paraphernalia they would need during the journey up-stream, which would begin shortly.

The river was but slightly ruffled, the dark-colored water speeding along in a broad belt between high, rolling banks covered with dense forest.

There were many other craft on the river, including a tramp freighter from some foreign port, launches, and a number of huge dugout canoes laden with bananas, nuts and other produce on its way to the city markets.

The crews always called to one another if the outfits passed within hailing distance, each asking as many questions as possible as to destination, business and other things, before conversation was checked by the growing distance between them.

As they neared the junction of the two streams the course of the boat was altered, for after entering the larger river they would journey up-stream; they would be compelled to hug closely the forested bank where the current was slack, if there were no wind.

The vista of the two rivers, joining their waters to form a mightier stream visible below and appearing like a ruffled sea, was majestic. Also, it was terrific in its very grandeur. The dark water of the Rio Negro did not at once mingle with or become absorbed by the muddy flood of the Solimoes, but the two ran side by side a distance of many miles, the sharp distinguishing line clearly visible, before merging their identities.

The scene was a wild and dismal one and David was impressed with his own littleness and that of those about him. The contrast had not seemed so great from the high deck of the steamer when he came up the river; but in the comparatively frail shell of the batalao it was different. The craft seemed so small, so helpless on the broad, billowy expanse of hurrying water. A rowboat in mid-ocean would not seem more out of place.

The sailors, apparently, were well versed in the ways of navigating the great rivers. They handled the sails and the rudder in a skilful manner and were soon tacking up-stream with a cross wind. Progress was now more slow, and when, an hour later, the wind failed so that the sails hung limply in the rigging, they were furled and made fast.

The water near the bank was shallow--not over four feet deep and generally a good deal less. Long poles were brought out; they had cross-pieces padded with cloth on one end and looked like tall crutches. Each man took one and then the crew was divided into two sections, one of which went to each outrigger board along the sides. The sharp ends of the poles were thrust to the sandy bottom while the men braced their shoulders against the padded ends and then pushed, running back along the boards in an even line. This propelled the boat along fairly rapidly, but it was hard work.

The sailors pushed the heavy craft forward with the poles throughout the remainder of the day, stopping only at noon for their ration of farinha and an hour’s rest.

Towards late afternoon they reached a section of the river flanked by wide marshes. Great masses of vegetation floated on the surface of the stream, such as wild lettuce, water hyacinths with inflated stems and blue flowers in spikes, lilies, and a host of other plants. The giant _Victoria Regia_ margined the sheets of varied green in immense clumps and ribbons. Each leaf of this queen of water lilies was from six to eight feet in diameter, with upturned edges so that they resembled a cake-tin--but for their enormous size. Heavy veins and midribs supported the leaves with their sturdy framework; they were covered with long spines and thus served not only to support but also to protect the tender green webbing of the leaves that stretched between them, as if to discourage any familiarity with a member of a royal family. The flowers bobbing here and there among the massive foliage were not larger than a dinner plate and of a bluish color. Although both leaves and blossoms rested lightly on the surface of the water, they were securely anchored in place with thick, cable-like stems, and roots that penetrated the murky bottom a distance of many feet.

Before long they reached a small creek that served as an outlet for some lagoon hidden beyond the forest walls. As they entered the heretofore quiet water it was churned into a frenzy by long, dark forms that darted out of the narrow opening and made for the river. They passed on each side of the batalao, cutting the surface with broad backs and leaving a perceptible swell in their wake.

“What are they, sharks?” David asked in surprise.

“No!” Don Marco said. “They are called pirarucú and are the great cod of the Amazon.”

“But what monsters! I had no idea there were such large fish in any river. They looked longer than a man and must weigh a hundred pounds.”

“Ha! They were twice as big as a man and would weigh five or six hundred pounds each. You shall see for yourself, if you stay long enough,” the captain said with a chuckle. “The river is full of them. Perhaps we may get one now, for this is a good place to fish. We will anchor the boat and try, anyway. The fish--many kinds--go up into the lagoon to feed, so they have to pass through this little channel both going and coming back. The pirarucú were just about to enter, but we frightened them, so they rushed back into the open water.”

“Do you think they will come back?” David asked eagerly.

“Yes, if we keep still.”

“I wish I could catch one; but nobody would believe me if I did--and told about it when I got back home.” Then brightening, “There is a camera in my suitcase. I could take a picture of it; that would fix them.”

“You would have to catch it first,” Don Marco reminded him.

“Let me have a hook and line. I will try it anyway.”

“Very good! I will give you a hook and line, so you can fish for pacú with the rest of us. The pirarucú is so large you must use a harpoon to get it. I will keep one handy; perhaps we shall have good luck. But in the meantime we will catch pacú, because they are a sure thing.”

They had anchored where the channel was narrowest. The men unwound the lines and baited the hooks with plump grains of maize that had been soaked until soft. Scarcely had the ripples made by the plunges of the heavy sinkers died down when the fish began to bite.

They struck with a powerful rush and dragged the line through the water with a burst of speed that was surprising. The men swung the poles upward to hook the fish securely and then hauled in the lines with their hands. Soon the silvery fish, nearly two feet long and very broad, were pulled aboard in numbers and thrown on the decks.

David was so absorbed in watching the others that he almost forgot his own line. He felt a sudden tug and recovered just in time to prevent the loss of his pole. He followed the example of the others and soon landed the glistening pacú. Catching fish in this manner was not much of a sporting proposition, but it was not without its thrill of excitement.

The sharp eyes of Don Marco caught a slight ripple in the water ten yards to their rear. At his word of warning the men stopped talking and quietly pulled in their lines.

The pirarucú were returning to their feeding-grounds. Slowly they came, and cautiously, swimming just beneath the surface and looking like shadows. The school was a large one, for the water seemed alive with the giant fish. The captain had noiselessly come to David’s side and placed a short iron harpoon in his hand.

“Throw it just as you would a stick and aim about a foot ahead of the fish,” he said.

A few yards from the boat the foremost of the school stopped. David could clearly distinguish the trim outlines of the broad, dark backs, the large eyes, the gaping mouths and the gently waving fins. What monsters they were! And how he longed to possess one of them!

Without warning the fish disappeared. They had become suspicious of the boat floating in their path and had simply melted into the depths below.

Don Marco motioned for continued silence. He knew the ways of the creatures; before many minutes had passed they reappeared as suddenly as they had gone. But now they were on all sides of the batalao. Their fears had vanished and they moved as a unit into the passageway.

David held the harpoon firmly in his right hand; at his feet lay the coil of thick cord that was fastened to it. A small keg was perched on the outrigger board; it would serve as a buoy to locate the fish when it had become exhausted.

When one of the passing host was almost below him David let go the harpoon with all his strength. There was a splash, followed immediately by other splashing all around them as the entire school sounded.

The line rushed overboard and cut the water with a hissing sound; a moment later the keg followed with a splash and began a wild rush into the river. It was a

[Illustration: A huge silvery form ... leaped out of the water, rolled and wallowed convulsively, and sank from sight.]

great sight to see the half-submerged buoy tearing a wide path through the muddy water, towed by the terrified monster deep below.

“The _curare_!” Don Marco shouted; but the men had already untied the dugout canoe that trailed behind the batalao. The captain, David and two of the sailors jumped into it and they were off after the fleeing keg.

“He can’t keep it up very long,” Don Marco panted as they dug deep their paddles and sped along. “A few kilometers at most and the drag will tire him out. He must be enormous--look how the keg is travelling. If the line should break he will be lost.”

After running downstream several hundred yards the float came to a stop.

“It snapped, or the harpoon did not hold. He’s gone,” were the first thoughts that came to the pursuers. But a few minutes later it moved again, this time heading upstream. That was fortunate for the men but unfortunate for the fish, for now it had to fight not only the current but pull the hampering weight against the stream also. And it was coming straight toward the canoe. Soon it was abreast, so the paddlers turned the craft and now had no difficulty in keeping up with it.

Bit by bit the fish weakened and after half an hour the keg stood still.

“Now we must get it quickly, before it can rest,” the captain called. When they reached the float he leaned over, caught the line with his hands and began to pull it in, not hurriedly, but with an even, steady movement.

This, however, gave new life to the fish. It dashed away, downstream, but the man retained possession of the cord and the canoe tore through the water at great speed, her nose ploughing so deeply that it was all but submerged.

The men dropped their paddles and began to bail out the water that poured in in a steady stream; but soon it became apparent that their efforts could not stem the flood that was rising about their feet. If the fish did not slacken its pace soon they would have to release the line or the canoe would be swamped.

But the great pirarucú was rapidly exhausting the last vestige of its strength in pulling the dugout. It was gradually coming nearer the surface; and then a huge, silvery form leaped out of the water, rolled and wallowed convulsively, and sank from sight.

Don Marco rapidly took in the line and in a moment they had reached the spot where the last ripples were dying in a widening circle; soon the prize had been brought up from the muddy depths and wallowed helplessly beside the boat.

What a beauty it was! And what a monster! A line was made fast just in back of the fins and they towed it back to the batalao, where it was hoisted aboard.

As the great fish lay on the deck, David surveyed it with a triumphant gleam in his eyes. It was fully eight feet long and the captain said it would weigh more than four hundred pounds. The glistening body was a foot and a half broad across the back and two feet wide along the greater part of its length. Silver scales the size of a dollar covered it and those on the lower half were margined with scarlet. The mouth was very large and wide open; the fish was dead.

After examining it for some time David’s feeling of exultation gave way to pity for the beautiful creature. It was of such great size, so majestic, and seemed like a fitting denizen of the Amazon, representative of the mystery and the wonder of the mighty river. It seemed so out of place on the deck of the boat.

“That is a beauty,” he commented, “but one is enough for a long time. I am not going to kill another unless it is needed very badly. What are we going to do with it?”

After taking a number of photographs of the fish, David watched the sailors dress it. Then they cut it into slabs and sprinkled salt over the pieces, which they hung up to dry.

“It will keep months now,” Don Marco said. “We shall need most of it, and what is left can be sold further up the river.”

They rowed and poled upstream a short distance above the mouth of the creek and anchored for the night.

Chapter VII

When The River Ran Riot

There were a number of small settlements scattered along both banks of the river, but the trader did not stop at any one of them during the first days after leaving Manaos. He said they were too near the city, to which the people made frequent trips, so they naturally purchased their supplies during these visits, knew the market value of everything, and would not pay the prices he was compelled to charge. It was further upstream, where the inhabitants were more isolated and the distance too great for them to make frequent excursions to Manaos, that he expected to glean his harvest.

The second day passed without incident. In one stretch, where the water was too deep for poling, the sailors got out long-handled hooks. They caught these in the overhanging branches and then walked along the board runways, but now they pulled as they walked instead of pushing, as they did when poling, and only half could engage in the work, as there was forest on only one side of them. Therefore, they were divided into two parties of six each, one resting while the other trudged along the wet, slippery boards.

It seemed to David as if the branches overhead harbored all the insects in the world. Each time the hooks were thrust into them a shower of ants, leaf hoppers and a multitude of other winged and crawling creatures fell into the boat.

The men seemed not to mind the hordes of creeping things streaming down their arms and bare backs, beyond an occasional exclamation of annoyance or some jesting remark when one of their number was deluged with an exceptionally large number. But when on the third day the hooks stirred up a nest of the fierce maribundi wasps their tolerant attitude quickly changed, for the insects were quick to resent the interference with their domestic affairs.

Several of the wasps darted out of the dense foliage, their red bodies gleaming like flying sparks. They made straight for the men and simultaneously there rose a chorus of wild screams mingled with the clatter and splash of poles that fell from hands now occupied in striking at the darting specks or in clutching madly at their bodies.

David came to the door of the storeroom to see what had happened; he was amazed at the strange antics of the sailors, who were now making for the opening in which he was standing. He was not kept in suspense long.

If a red-hot needle had been thrust into him the effect could not have been more painful. One of the wasps had discovered David and had plunged its fiery dagger into his arm.

He dashed back into the storeroom with a cry of pain, and the men followed in quick succession. They slammed the door as soon as the last one had entered, and at last they were safe from the attackers.

The batalao, left to its own devices, began to drift downstream, but none sought to stop it. The crew, packed tight between the boxes and bales, was too much occupied with a more vital matter, and some of the men who had been stung a number of times were screaming and moaning in agony, while from others came not a sound--they had lost consciousness.

David had never suffered such intense pain in his life. His arm throbbed and burned and was rapidly swelling to huge proportions. At times he was on the point of fainting and grasped the nearest support to keep from falling to the floor. The stifling heat in the room added to the suffering of all.

“Open the door!” Don Marco shouted. He had come through the encounter unscathed. “Get out into the fresh air,” he added; “we have drifted past the nest; the danger is over.”

Someone obeyed the first order mechanically and those who could walk went out upon the deck. They presented a sorry appearance. Some had been stung on the hands; others on the face or bare backs, the exact spots being marked by rising protuberances of an angry red color.

In the meantime David was wondering what he could do in the matter of giving relief. He thought of iodine; that would help. Then he remembered the snake-bite lancet in his pocket--a hard rubber device that looked like a short fountain pen, with a sharp steel blade in one end and a pocket of permanganate of potash crystals in the other. He would try that, on his own arm first.

After opening the wound with a quick thrust of the keen blade he rubbed a quantity of the dry powder into it. Then he painted the whole area with iodine. Relief from the burning pain followed quickly; there remained only the dull throbbing.

Encouraged, he began working on the sailors. They submitted to his ministrations and were grateful for the help he gave them.

“The maribundi wasps are terrible creatures,” Don Marco said that night. “I am more afraid of them than of anything else in the jungle; they are even worse than snakes, because there are more of them and it is impossible to escape from them when they are encountered. If a man is stung four or five times, he dies. And only one sting will often make a person sick for weeks.”

They had anchored so soon as it was possible to muster enough hands to row the boat to the bank.

“Are they very common along the river?” David asked anxiously.

“Yes, here and on the Orinoco too; and not only along the water, either. One is liable to run into them in the forest and in the clearings alike. They are quick to attack the moment they are disturbed. You must give me some of your remedy, for it is the best I have ever found. But for your quick work some of the men would have died.”

The journey was not continued until two days later; the men had recovered sufficiently by that time to resume their duties. They were obliged to use the hooks, as before, and could only trust to luck for the future.

That day they stopped at several clearings and traded with the settlers. The places were interesting--like notches hewn into the heavy jungle, openings with ragged edges where the vegetation was advancing in solid formation to reclaim its own. There was abundant other evidence that the fight of man against the forest was incessant. Second-growth sprouts sprang up in the yuca fields in back of the huts and unless they were cut down promptly they soon formed dense thickets that smothered the cultivated plants. Besides the yucas, from which the farinha was made, there were clumps of bananas, plantains, sugar cane and tree melons; also small plantations of coffee trees. These were from ten to fifteen feet high, round and bushy, and covered with clusters of small red fruits. Each of the little spheres contained two coffee beans, their flat side resting face to face, and the whole surrounded by a thin, sweet pulp. There were tall breadfruit trees near the huts, their broad leaves providing shade and the great cylindrical green fruits serving as an addition to the food supply.

The Brazilian cherries interested David greatly. They were about the size of the ones he was accustomed to at home, and of the same bright red color, but had deep grooves in them from stem to tip, so that a cross section would have the outline of a star.

Most of the people were squatters in the wilderness. They were Portuguese who had cleared their little patches of land and were subsisting on the bounty of the soil and the river. They worked little, except in fighting the forest, as all vegetation grew so luxuriantly and yielded such abundant crops that little cultivation was needed to produce all the food they required. They were easy-going, good-natured, and spent most of their time in their hammocks, conversing and sipping tea or coffee.

A few of the stations, however, were owned by residents of Manaos, who visited them occasionally and maintained hired help permanently to cultivate the soil and care for a few cows, pigs and fowls.

The dwellings were all of similar construction--flimsy structures with bamboo walls, earth floors and roofs of palm leaves. The tropical luxuriance of the foliage all around them, however, gave them a picturesque appearance so that they seemed to fit properly into their surroundings. A more substantial type of house would have been impracticable and out of place in such a climate.

“Are there no large ranches along the river?” David asked, after leaving one of the clearings.

“Yes, there are a few, but they have been started very recently. Each time I come back this way I find a few new ones, but none of them is very large. We expect to reach one of them tomorrow; I just heard about it in Manaos.”

“What is it called?”

“Las Palmas. The owner is one of your countrymen. They say he has an enormous ranch in the Argentine and is going to make Las Palmas the best and largest in the Upper Amazon. But it will be hard work and I doubt if he will succeed.”

“Do you know anything about the owner? What did they say about him in Manaos?” David asked eagerly.

“Nothing much except what I told you.”

“That might be a good place for me to stop,” David suggested.

“Tired of the river already?” Don Marco asked in surprise.

“No! Just beginning to become interested.”

“Then it must be that you do not like our company. I am sorry,” and the captain seemed offended.

“No! Nothing of the kind,” David hastened to assure him. “You have been mighty good to me and I wish I could stay with you on the whole trip. But my time is limited and I want to see some of the ranch life. To tell the truth, that is the reason I came to Brazil.”

“As you wish. But I shall be sorry to see you go.” There was a note of real regret in Don Marco’s voice. “It has been a pleasure to have you and I have enjoyed your company.”

They reached the landing just before noon of the following day.

“This must be the spot, but where is the ranch?” the Venezuelan asked, greatly puzzled, as he looked up the narrow trail leading from the high bank straight through the heavy forest. Aside from this path there was no evidence of life in the neighborhood.

“I know the river too well to be mistaken,” he continued. “This is the spot they described to me.”

But the tall, dark trees standing like sentinels over the narrow lane men’s hands had made at their foot were grim and silent, as if guarding some secret.

“It may be back from the river a short distance,” David suggested.

“It must be. But a ranch should be on the water, or very near to it. That is the custom here. They have boats and launches at Las Palmas, but where are they? This is the landing. We shall see!”

Then, calling to two of his men, Don Marco continued:

“You, Pedro and José, walk down the trail and see how far it is to the house. Come back at once after you find it. Do not tell anyone your business or mine.”

The men departed, soon disappearing among the shadows cast by the tangled branches overhead. Some of the other sailors began to fish, while David got together his things preparatory to leaving. The cook prepared slices of the salted pirarucú for the departing guest, for David had found the flesh delicious and had said so on several occasions. It was just as well that the cook had taken for granted that the remarks referred to his cooking, rather than to the natural quality of the fish, for he showed appreciation in various ways, the most acceptable of which was the frequent preparation of those things David liked best to eat.

Hour after hour passed, but the two men did not return. Some of the men waiting on the boat began to fear that they had lost their way or had met with a mishap. And David, remembering the many things he had heard about Las Palmas and the fate that would befall anyone attempting to enter the place, began to wonder if he were not to blame, for he had failed to warn them of their danger. It was now too late for regrets, for the men had been gone more than three hours.

“Why don’t we go after them?” he finally asked the captain. “I will go. They may be lost.”

“Impossible,” Don Marco returned. “Both are good woodsmen and know how to find their way.”

“Could they have been attacked by Indians or some animal?”

“It is possible, but I think not. They know how to fight.”

“Then why don’t they return?”

“_Quien sabe!_ We will wait a while longer and see what happens.”

After another hour had gone by the two men returned, tired and mopping the perspiration from their faces.

“Well?” their employer asked.

“_Caramba!_” one panted. “Such a place! _Caramba!_”

“Yes,” the other added, “such a place.”

“What is the matter with it?” impatiently. “You act like a pair of dunces.”

“Miserable,” the first man said. “I never saw anything like it. First you have to walk your legs off to get there, and when you arrive you find it is for nothing.”

“That is the truth,” from the second man, “and the trail is terrible. We had to cross streams on log bridges, wade through ponds filled with _yacarés_, and splash through mud nearly up to our knees. _Caramba!_”

“But what did you find out?” Don Marco asked impatiently.

“After we had been walking several hours--long after leaving the forest--a man on horseback rode up to us and asked us what we wanted. There were houses and sheds not far ahead and he came from that direction. When we told him he began shooting at us and chased us away.

“We came back faster than we went--much faster, or we should not be here yet. There were Indians in the woods, too, but we escaped them.”

“But did you tell them you only wanted to find out how far----”

“We tried to, but the barbarian gave us only a half minute’s start before he began to shoot. We could not talk and run at the same time.”

“You two cowards,” said the captain in disgust. “We have lost a whole afternoon on your account.”

“Anybody would have acted as we did.”

“Perhaps the man was joking,” David ventured. He was far from being comfortable.

“We could not read his mind. We know what he said and did, and that was not very funny,” they said hastily.

“What kind of a place was it--I mean the houses?” David continued. “Did it look like a real ranch?”

“It did not look like much--from a distance,” one of the men replied. “But we did not get very near to it.”

“I suppose I shall have to find out for myself then,” he said with a sigh.

“Are you going to stop here anyway?” asked the captain in surprise.

“Yes. You will have to leave me here.”

“It will be a long walk--and no telling what will happen when you get there, according to the report of these two.”

“Well, I will have to take a chance. I can follow the trail and go slowly. I am sure they will not try to chase me away.”

David wanted to start right away, but the captain would not hear of it. It was too late in the day to undertake such a long tramp through the forest. And for one unfamiliar with the country the attempt to spend the night under such circumstances was ill-advised, to say the least, for the trail was indistinct and difficult to follow even in the daytime.

David reluctantly agreed to the force of these arguments, and as the boat was to remain there anyway for the night he decided that he would stay aboard.

After supper they rowed a short distance into the stream and anchored.

It was well that he did not ignore Don Marco’s advice not to attempt to spend the night alone in that, to him, unknown jungle, for the onrush of darkness had scarcely enveloped the earth when one of the terrific storms, as greatly feared as they are common on the Amazon, swooped out of the west and for two hours held land and river helpless in its merciless grasp.

The onslaught came suddenly. Before the first warning drops had awakened the sleepers, a wall of wind and falling water swept down the river and struck the batalao with such force that it nearly capsized.

The men sprang from their hammocks and crowded into the storeroom, where they were held prisoner while the storm spent its fury.

The downpour thundered steadily over their heads and here and there a small rivulet found its way through the roof. Below them, the waves hissed and boomed as they dashed against the sides of the dancing craft. And from the forest came an occasional roar, followed by a crash which told the fate of some great tree that had succumbed to the force of the gale.

Although sweltering in the close atmosphere of their quarters the men were in no danger, for thanks to their preparedness the boat was far enough from the bank to prevent its grounding; and the anchor held fast.

After a while the rain stopped, but the wind did not die down until daylight came. By this time the waves had attained a great height and the boat pitched and rocked so violently that those aboard began to be uncomfortable. All the while one other sound reached their ears above the shrieking of the wind and the pounding of the waves. It was a dull, muffled noise coming singly sometimes like the booming of a distant gun, and again in a rapid succession of roars, rumblings and crashes--some nearby, others far distant.

Daylight revealed the cause of the disturbance. The constant beating of the waves had undermined sections of the river bank and long, narrow strips of it were falling into the water. It was a wonderful yet terrible sight to see the great masses of trees begin to shudder, then bow low and finally plunge headlong into the heaving, yellow flood that had washed the foundation from under their roots.

After this din the whole tangled mass disappeared, only to come to the surface in a few moments to be swept downstream, the branches waving above the angry water like so many struggling arms appealing frantically for assistance.

Each landslide further agitated the water and added to the power of the waves. And as the men looked up and down the broad expanse of river it seemed as if the work of destruction must encompass all the land. But with the coming of the sun the wind slackened and the waves subsided, and the slides were less frequent and of smaller extent. Finally they stopped.

Don Marco said they had witnessed a sight that was as unusual as it was awe-inspiring. Not until days later would the last of the débris disappear down the stream.

David took his possessions and went ashore and shortly after he had entered the dripping forest the batalao resumed its way up the turbulent river.

Chapter VIII

The Road To Las Palmas

That lonesome walk through the towering forest was an experience David would never forget.

How tall the tree-trunks were and how thick and straight. It must have taken centuries to grow to that size. On some, the lowest branches did not start until fifty feet or more above the ground; they reached toward and intermingled with their neighbors, forming a sturdy framework for the canopy of leaves that shut out the sunlight except in scattered spots where a bright shaft penetrated the thick mat and cast a dazzling, wavering blotch on the sombre forest floor.

The steady drip of water came from overhead, and the ground underfoot was soft and spongy from the drenching of the previous night, so that there was not a sound as David walked rapidly up the narrow trail.

Suddenly it came upon David that the silence was not only under his feet; it was all about him. While he had expected to find the jungle teeming with life, there was not a sign of life. Instead of the chorus of screams, roars and howls that should have greeted his ears there was only the breathless silence of a vast solitude, so intense that the beating of his own heart seemed to pound in his ears like the blows of a sledgehammer.

The wilderness was full of life--it must be--but where was it? David felt that inquisitive, eager, even menacing eyes were gazing at him from places of concealment in the dense vegetation; but he could not see their owners. This thought added to the uncanny feeling that was slowly taking possession of him.

What if he should be charged by a jaguar? Or suppose a herd of ferocious peccaries should surround him? The trees were too thick to be climbed. There was no means of escape open to him.

A twig snapped in back of him. He wheeled instantly, but saw nothing. Standing motionless, he waited a few minutes. Not a leaf stirred, but a faint, shuffling sound reached his ears, like the footfalls of some heavy creature stealing away. Without awaiting further developments he opened his pack and took out his revolver; he strapped the holster to his waist. That gave him a feeling of security and he continued the tramp through the gloomy forest.

As time passed the pack on his back seemed to grow heavier and the perspiration ran down his face in rivulets. Also, the parcel was a serious impediment in crossing the numerous little streams spanned by a single log and that, frequently, of small size.

Walking across the slippery foothold with the deep, murky water below was precarious in itself; the pack rendered it doubly so. He walked across the larger trunks and hitched over those of more slender proportions.

David had just negotiated one of the latter and had stopped to readjust the weight of his burden. A faint rustle made him turn suddenly and look down the trail. There, not a dozen paces from the stream he had just left, stood an Indian, a long bow in one hand, an arrow in the other. The brown skin of the savage, marked with stripes of black paint, blended well with the sombre tree-trunks and dark foliage.

For a moment neither stirred but each gazed at the other, David in surprise and consternation, the Indian with an air of resentment at having been discovered. Then the latter advanced a step menacingly and raised the bow to the level of his shoulders. David’s hand flew to the holster on his belt and a shot, aimed high, rang out clear and sharp in the silent forest. The Indian gave a wild yell, sprang to one side and dashed away. The thud of his feet and the swishing of the branches were ample proof that he had no intention of stopping in the near vicinity.

“I guess that fixed him for the present,” thought David; “but I’ll have to hurry; he might come back with others and then it would not be so easy to scare away the whole pack.”

A hundred yards up the trail he stopped, slipped the pack off his back, and hid it in a mass of ferns growing between the buttressed roots of a great tree. After that he could walk more rapidly.

When another hour had passed he noticed that the forest was becoming more open in character. The trees were further apart and the sunlight found its way to the ground in numerous splashes and pools of bright light. About the same time he heard the call of a bird--the first sign of animal life on all that long, solitary tramp. It was fortunate that he saw the author of the sound, for it was a shrill, quavering note that was unearthly and weird in the extreme.

The bird was of the shape and size of a guinea hen, but of a rich brown color. It ran out into the trail just ahead of him and stood looking at the man with bright, black eyes until he was nearly upon it, when it flew away with a loud whirr of wings. It was a poor flyer, however, for although it hurtled through the air at great speed, its course was erratic; it darted one way, then another, until it dashed against a tree-trunk and fell to the ground, where it lay fluttering. David started toward it, but before he had covered half the distance separating him from the now quiet creature a lithe form sprang out of the cover on one side of the path, picked up the bird in its mouth and darted out of view again.

The marauder was of the cat family and spotted like a leopard, though not so large. Its sudden appearance gave David a start, for it proved that there was life in the silent forest in spite of the hush that prevailed. Unseen eyes and keen ears were about him; it required only the proper combination of circumstances to bring the creatures from their hiding-places. This thought was far from comforting and the lone wanderer redoubled his vigilance in an effort to forestall a surprise attack on himself.

At last the forest gave way to a scrubby growth, and this was soon replaced by open country; that is, it seemed open in comparison to the jungle through which David had just passed.

There were low bushes in scattered groups; between them lay grassy areas of considerable extent. Clumps of trees stood like dark islands in the sea of lighter green; and here and there was the glint of water--lagoons fringed by reedy marshes.

The picture was that of a perfect wilderness, but it was an enticing one. It bore the stamp of primeval nature and seemed pregnant with the promise of rich rewards for the one who cared to go in quest of them.

“The ranch cannot be much farther,” David thought. “It would have to be out in the open, of course.” And he scanned the country in all directions for some signs of the buildings or their occupants.

But the wilderness stretched on unendingly on all sides, with only the narrow thread of a trail to give evidence of the fact that the country was not unknown to man.

There were other foot-paths, too, but they had been made by animals--deer, peccaries and tapirs, and occasionally there was the deep, broad imprint of a jaguar’s foot, or the smaller, uncertain track of an ocelot.

Birds of many kinds dotted the sky and were spread out over the landscape. Parrots and great macaws sped by overhead; herons and egrets covered the trees as with a snowy mantle; and rafts of ducks floated on the quiet water, while smaller birds dabbled among the grass and reeds lining the lagoons. Of the latter, one kind in particular attracted David’s attention. They had long legs and long necks and could have been mistaken for snipe but for the fact that they seemed to run and skip over the surface of the water with the ease of covering firm ground. But when David drew nearer he saw that the birds had wide-spreading toes which enabled them to use the mats of small, floating plants as a footing. They were reluctant to fly, but when they did they fluttered like grasshoppers, exposing a greenish patch of color in each wing, and uttered queer, cackling, scolding notes.

Some of the smaller ponds or sloughs had begun to dry. The water that remained was muddy and teemed with fish that had been left stranded far inland by the flood of the last rainy season. The imprisoned creatures were struggling frantically in the slimy liquid, dashing back and forth in futile efforts to find an outlet into some larger and friendlier basin. In their frenzy they attacked one another and numbers threw themselves out upon the land, where they gasped their last. Apparently this state of affairs had been going on for some time, for the ground was littered with heaps of the remains in the form of white bones that had been crushed by opossums and other nocturnal prowlers.

The depressing sight and the stench made David avoid these places by wide detours whenever possible.

It seemed as if the trail ran on interminably, winding between the lagoons and forest islands, traversing the highest, dryest places of the open country, but always leading on and on. If the ranch were in the neighborhood, there should be some indications of it. But so far neither horses nor cattle, smoke nor houses could be seen.

David was beginning to wonder if he might not have taken some branch of the original trail that was simply taking him deeper and deeper into the wilderness. He stopped for a moment to consider what best had be done. As he scanned the country his eyes caught sight of moving objects in the distance and a first glimpse convinced him that they were horsemen. He could have shouted for joy, for now it was but a matter of minutes until they should see him and then they would soon take him to the ranch. It never occurred to him that the riders might not want to see him or that they would refuse to help him if they could not avoid him, and that, too, in spite of the things he had been told he was to expect from the owner of Las Palmas. Just beyond, the ground was more open; he decided to go there and wave his hat to attract the attention of the men.

As he started through the thick grass a warning bellow from directly in front stopped him in his tracks; he looked in the direction from which the sound had come, but could see nothing. A moment later a second bellow, more like a roar, reached his ears and at the same time he caught sight of a long, waving object like the head and neck of a great snake. Before he had time for action of any kind a huge, grayish body leaped out of the grass and charged. It was a rhea or South America ostrich. Onward it came with lowered head, hissing as it sped over the ground, the short wings drooping and feathers ruffled in a terrifying manner. It was upon David in a few seconds. The attack had been so sudden that he had not had time to grasp his revolver; as the great bird lunged at him he stepped aside and caught the outstretched neck in his hands. That action, unexpected as it was new to the bird, bewildered it and it stopped. However, the surprise of the reception lasted but a moment.

David clung desperately to the creature’s neck. Back and forth they struggled, the bird striking with its huge feet, beating with its wings and bellowing in its frantic efforts to break the man’s hold.

The outcome of the struggle depended upon endurance. Sooner or later one of the two must give out, and for a time it was impossible to guess which would be that one. The bird was first to show signs of succumbing to the strain. Its struggles grew weaker and finally they ceased altogether, much to David’s relief, for he too was on the verge of exhaustion.

When the rhea was quiet he relaxed his grasp. Instantly it again became charged with life. It gave a powerful wrench and the thick neck slipped from his aching fingers. But instead of renewing the attack, the bird seemed to have but one thought, but one desire, and that was to leave the locality as quickly as possible. It turned and fled in a series of long strides, its head held high, wings stretched out like sails, and feet that moved so rapidly the eye could not follow them in their prodigious leaps.

The supposed horsemen had come nearer all the while and David now saw that they were a flock of the ostriches, which his attacker joined, when the entire company turned and soon disappeared in the distance.

David went to the spot where he had first sighted the bird. To his delight he found a mound of huge eggs. They were of an oval shape, creamy white color, glossy, and so large he could not span one with his fingers. There were twenty of them, neatly arranged in a slight hollow scooped in the ground. He could not take them with him, of course, on account of their great weight and size, but thinking that he might have need of them at some time in the near future he tore a strip of cloth from his trousers--rent by the bird’s sharp claws during the struggle--and tied it to the highest reed near the nest, to serve as a marker for the spot.

Another half hour’s walk under the broiling sun and the end of the trail was in sight. There it was at last, but it looked nothing like the ranch-house David had pictured. Instead of the long, low, rambling building he had expected to find, with its corrals, and groups of saddled horses standing dejectedly under the shade trees, there was a ramshackle structure built of bamboo poles and covered with a thatched roof. A dozen or so smaller huts were scattered about the immediate vicinity. Here and there grew a cluster of tall, graceful palm trees; that was why the place was called Las Palmas.

The surrounding country did not appear very inviting. It looked forsaken and, under the hot sun, almost desolate.

David drew a deep breath and kept on his way. Perhaps the new life he had chosen was not going to be so interesting as he had imagined; but he would keep on just the same. This was no time for regrets. He must stick by his determination to see the thing through.

As he approached the largest house a lone dog darted out from some place of concealment, growling and bristling; he called to it in a friendly manner, but it bared its teeth and slunk away. A man, obviously a native, came to the doorway of the nearest hut and stared at the stranger in open astonishment. David started toward him; the man gave him a malicious look and faded from view in the darkened interior of the hut.

“Not a very inviting atmosphere around the place,” thought David. “But I’ll walk right into the big house as if I owned it and see what happens.”

On the threshold he stopped, however, and knocked. There was no response from within, but, hearing the sound of voices in back of him, he turned quickly to see who was responsible for it. A small group of natives stood in the doorway of each hovel, or in front of it, eyeing him in a curious manner.

“Enter!” one of them called to him. “The _patron_ is inside.”

David heeded this advice and walked in. He found himself in a long, low room with a hard-packed earth floor. A number of benches lined the walls and at one end were a wooden table and a chair. A man of burly appearance sat on the chair; his back was turned toward the doorway so that David could not see his face, but the neck was dark brown--David did not know whether the color was that of a native or caused by the hot sun. His clothes--a tan silk shirt and khaki-colored riding breeches, with tall boots and huge spurs--were neat and not unattractive.

The youth saw that much during the minute he waited respectfully just inside the room. Then, as the man paid no attention to him, he took a few steps forward.

“Didn’t I tell you to keep out of here?” The man’s voice sounded like a roar, but still he did not look up from the papers before him. “Wait just a minute--then I’ll kick you out, so you will remember it the next time.”

The man stood up and turned quickly.

“Well, for the--” he exploded and stopped short in apparent surprise. His face was tanned also and smooth, and his eyes were blue. But for the fierce scowl he wore he would have been a most amiable-looking sort of a person.

“Who are you? Where did you come from? How did you get here? What do you want?”

The questions were hurled in such rapid succession that David was bewildered.

“I am Jones,” he said, after an instant’s hesitation, and he tried to smile.

“Jones? Jones who?”

“David Jones. You are expecting me.”

“Boy, you must be crazy. I am not expecting anybody”--with a sneer--“and furthermore, if I find out who brought you here I’ll break his neck.”

“You don’t understand--” David began, but the other interrupted him.

“Don’t you tell me I don’t know my own business,” he snapped.

“Pardon me. I did not intend to be rude. But I understood that my father and you were old friends and that he had made arrangements for my coming here. He sent several cables----”

“Oh, that’s it, is it? Just because he happened to know me he thinks he can send his lazy, shiftless son to me to look after. What does he think this is, a kindergarten? What I want is men, real men--not babies. What do you know, what can you do? Nothing.”

David’s first feeling of consternation was giving way; also, he felt decidedly less important than he had when telling of his plans just before sailing, and on the steamer. What did he know after all? What had he ever accomplished? Now that he was actually face to face with the rugged type of man he had held up as his ideal, he felt very small indeed.

“You are right,” he said meekly. “I don’t amount to much. I knew it, and that is why I wanted to get away to a place where I had to depend on myself and would have the chance to make good under trying conditions.”

“You picked out the poorest place in the world. Don’t lie to me; you thought you could come here as Mr. David Jones, son of the big New York business man, and that I would let you hang around as an ornament, wear fancy cow-boy clothes, so you could send pictures to your friends at home to admire; and that I would pay you a big salary for the honor of having you here. Well, you guessed wrong.”

“I didn’t think of any of those things. I don’t want a cent until I honestly earn it. All I expect is a chance to do the things I have always wanted to do. My father did not send me away to get rid of me; I had a hard time to get him to let me come here.”

The ranchman seemed to relent a little and, encouraged, David told him all, including his difficulties at Manaos and how he had finally succeeded in reaching the ranch on the trader’s boat.

“You did have tough luck all around,” Rice commented, “but if I let you stay, it would only grow worse. Everything here has to be done by men who know their work; we haven’t time to be teachers. So you can rest up a bit; then I’ll send you back down the river. And that settles it.”

A loud knock sounded on the door-frame.

“Come in,” Rice called, and into the room stepped a tall, lean man, dressed in a blue cotton shirt and fringed, leather breeches. He had a cruel, swarthy face and small, restless eyes.

“Now what?” his employer asked.

“The launch is back from the Iguari; there has been more trouble with the Indians.” He cast a meaning look at David.

“I’ll go outside,” David quickly said.

“No!” Rice bellowed. “You will stay right here until I tell you to go.”

David stopped and quickly turned to face the two.

Chapter IX

The Beast

“Now, what’s the trouble?” Rice demanded in an angry voice.

“It’s the Indians, mostly,” the foreman replied, shifting his feet uneasily. “They fight us every step of the way, when we get a few miles from the camp.”

“Why don’t you fight back--kill them all. That’s the only way to handle the savages.”

“We do, but there are so many of them that there are always others to take the places of the ones we kill. They seem to spring up like weeds, right out of the ground.”

“Well? Go on! What else?”

“The snakes are worse than ever this year.”

“So you are afraid of snakes, too!” Rice said with a sneer. “You are a fine person to be entrusted with the management of the rubber camp. If you can’t do better than that, I’ll kick you out and put one of the half-breeds in your place. At least, they are not cowards.”

“I’m not afraid of the snakes myself, but when one or more of the men are bitten and die each day, it is not long before they all get scared and want to quit. And besides, every one we lose leaves one man less to collect rubber.”

“Is it really as bad as that?” Apparently Rice had underestimated the seriousness of the situation.

“Oh, worse. It was bad enough in ordinary times, but this year the drought is driving all the snakes to the river. They like the huts of the men to use as hiding places, and are always dropping down out of the thatched roofs or crawling over the floor at night; they even get into the hammocks. I have never seen anything like it. Mariano found a twenty-foot anaconda in his hammock the night before we left; that’s why no one has seen Mariano since--he left camp in such a hurry he did not even take his clothes.”

“Snakes or no snakes, the rubber crop must be gathered.” Rice seemed to have made up his mind and spoke with an air of finality. “Soon the rains will be here and then the season will be over. You must get more men and try it again; we must have the rubber even if you lose every single man in the end.”

“We can fight against the Indians and the snakes,” the foreman ventured, timidly, “but there is one thing we can’t overcome and that is the fever. There never was so much of it as this year--on account of the drought, they say. Most of the men who escaped the other two plagues are too sick to work.”

“Don’t tell me any more!” Rice thundered. “I’ve got troubles of my own. It’s up to you to harvest that rubber, so go do it. You are the foreman. Do anything you want to. Take every soul on the place; it don’t matter if none gets back alive, just so you bring back the rubber. Now, get out and do something.”

The foreman did not wait to hear more. He quickly made for the door and disappeared. David was alone again with the viper.

He was speechless with amazement at the things he had just heard. Had he been given his choice now, it is but natural that the first impulse would have been to start for home as soon as possible. But he was not asked to make known his desires.

“I’ve changed my mind about you,” Rice bellowed. “You will stay. You’ll make one more hand to get that rubber crop in before the rains start--even if you’re nothing but a boy. Can you swim?”

“Yes,” David answered meekly.

“Can you ride a horse?”

“Yes.”

“Can you throw a rope?”

“No. I never tried, but I can learn.”

“You are a fine one to come to a ranch--expecting to run it. I ought to chase you out, and I would if I didn’t need you so badly. The rubber camp will soon bring out the kind of stuff you’re made of. But just remember this; we won’t tolerate any smart ideas or new notions. You don’t know anything and you’ll do exactly as you are told. You are not Mr. Jones’ son so long as you stay around here. Your official name is Nobody, and that’s what I’ll call you. You are right down on the bottom and you’ll stick there, too, if I am any judge of character. Now go, and tell Carlos where you hid your pack, so he can send for it. He’ll fix you up with what you need, and remember, he’s your boss. Do whatever he says and if he thinks you worth the trouble, he’ll take you up-river. Get out just as fast as you can and don’t bother me again.”

David was too bewildered to resent anything that had been said to him. It had all come like a thunderbolt, suddenly, unexpected and terrible. He merely stammered “Yes, Sir,” and hastily departed. Outside the door he drew a deep breath of relief. What a frightful character Rice was! He had not the slightest regard for life. No wonder they called him the viper, but David could not think of any creature that was so repulsive to him as this man, unless possibly it was a hyena.

How could his father have sent him to such a place? Then the truth occurred to him. He had not been sent. He had insisted on having his way. If he had known the truth; if only he had listened to the advice of others who knew the world better than he, and----. But, no! He dared not think such thoughts. He had gone this far and there must be no quitting. He would see the thing through. Somehow, some way, matters would straighten themselves out and if they didn’t he would force them to.

Seeing the foreman near one of the larger huts, David went toward him unaware that the eyes of the beast were following his every movement. The look of cruelty had gone from the eyes and a smile was on his face--a smile partly of amusement and partly of pity, as he looked at the forlorn figure approaching the burly Don Carlos.

“Hm!” he chuckled