Lost in the Wilds of Brazil
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Professor Bigelow waited for them to come nearer. Then he led the way into the village.
For several minutes he carried on conversation with the chief and seemed to have little or no trouble in understanding him. The Indian regarded him soberly most of the time, but at several of the professor’s remarks he smiled broadly.
“The professor’s building up a feeling of good will,” grinned Bob, a new glow of respect for the scientist coming over him.
“He’ll manage those savages all right,” said Mr. Holton, as he recalled some of the encounters with savage people that had been told of Professor Bigelow.
The conversation ended with an introduction of the other whites to the Indians, and after a few more casual remarks Professor Bigelow resolved to tell why they were there.
While the remainder of his party waited in ignorance of what was being said, he related the details of the expedition: why it had been organized, what its purposes were, and where it intended to explore. All this he put in the simple language of the natives, and although it was difficult to convey many ideas correctly, he succeeded admirably.
The chief’s answer was that he and his people would furnish information about their daily life, and, if the whites so desired, they would also help in getting specimens. The big Indian stressed the point that these were the first white people he had ever seen, although several of the older members of the tribe had met a party of them many years ago.
Professor Bigelow translated what had been said, and the naturalists were joyous. They could gain many things by remaining here with these simple people.
As soon as the novelty had worn off, the chief, whose name was Otari, escorted the party to one big hut, where they were to remain at night during their stay at the village.
“Plenty of room here,” observed Joe, glancing about the thatched walls.
“Yes,” Bob agreed. “Not a bit crowded. It’s one of the best dwellings in the settlement.”
Much room as there was, however, there were only a few pieces of native furniture and implements. A large box-like table, assembled with wooden pegs, stood in the middle of the room. Beneath it were five or six clay pots and containers, each washed clean. In one corner were two bows and arrows and a blow gun.
“They sure use poor taste in furnishing a house,” grinned Bob. “But I suppose for them it’s sufficient.”
Professor Bigelow thought it wise to bring in their belongings from the boats, but the others were a bit dubious about the safety of them.
“We can leave the crew to guard them when we are away,” he said. “I don’t think even that will be necessary, for I have a light, portable safe that I take on all expeditions such as this.”
He opened a large box and took out several flat pieces of metal. To his friends’ astonishment they were easily lifted, although they looked to weigh seventy pounds each.
“They are magnalium,” he explained. “About the lightest and strongest metal there is.”
There were lock clamps at the edges of each piece, and these were fitted into each other. In a short time a large safe stood before their eyes.
Bob gasped in astonishment.
“That’s a new one on me,” he confessed. “Never heard of anything like it.”
“It’s also new to me,” said Mr. Lewis. “I knew there were such safes, but heretofore I have never seen one.”
“But,” hesitated Mr. Holton, “what kind of an explanation will we give the Indians? It occurs to me that they would take this as a kind of insult. Might get it in their heads that we thought they would steal something.”
“Restrain yourself from worrying about that,” the professor consoled him. “I’ve used this before many times. As an explanation, we’ll simply say that the safe is a place to store the belongings where we can have them easily at hand. Then, too, it will prevent any of the children from curiously straying into our hut to meddle with things. I’ve never yet had any trouble.”
The safe was large enough to hold the professor’s typewriter, paper, a few books, and various other essential objects. In addition, there was room for rifles, ammunition, knives and preparations used in skinning, and several other articles that it was best to lock up.
“It’s just the thing,” remarked Joe. “Now we can be sure that valuable possessions will always be here when we get back from a hunting trip.”
“I will probably spend most of my time in here writing and conversing with the natives,” Professor Bigelow said. “So when you are out you can be doubly sure that things will be all right.”
It was now about meal time, and the chief wanted to bring the explorers dishes of native food, but they thanked him, saying that they would use their own provisions.
“For my part I don’t care for any of their delicacies,” grinned Joe. “You can never tell what you’re getting.”
“True enough,” laughed Mr. Holton. “For that reason we’ll stick to our own grub.”
After lunching bountifully, the explorers rested on the straw beds and felt much better for it. When an hour had passed, Mr. Holton rose and walked over to the supplies.
“Let’s go out specimen-collecting,” he suggested, getting out a rifle and small shotgun.
Bob and Joe were on their feet in an instant, their faces radiant with delight. At last had come a chance to explore the jungle, with its many thrills, wonders, and tragedies. How they had longed for it!
“Can’t get there any too soon for me,” said Bob, grasping his rifle.
Mr. Lewis also agreed, and they started out toward the back of the village, Bob and Joe in the lead.
There was a fairly well blazed trail at the edge of the last hut, and the hunters resolved to follow it.
“Probably won’t be much large game along this path, but there will undoubtedly be others branching off from it,” remarked Mr. Holton, as he took the lead and plunged into the jungle.
That jungle interested the youths immensely, for the variety of tropical vegetation was wide. Trees of all types grew one beside another, their leaves coming in contact with each other. Many of the trunks were encircled with parasitic vines, which, in many cases, caused the trees to be stunted. All about on the ground were shrubs and bushes and tall grass that hindered walking.
“Have to be careful here,” warned Mr. Lewis, carefully avoiding a low shrub studded with sharp-pointed thorns.
“Right,” agreed Bob’s father. “Keep a ready hand on your rifles, for there are countless creatures that may be dangerous.”
Although the jungle seemed thick at the start, it was nothing to what they found it later on. Vegetation was certainly dense. Large clusters of ferns barred the way, their enormous leaves suggesting forests of prehistoric times. Gay flowers loomed up here and there, tempting the hunters to stop and marvel at their beauty. Oddly shaped plants were numerous, among them being a stalk that grew straight up for a distance of perhaps ten feet, then spliced and fell to the ground in several places.
Bob and Joe had expected much, but this was beyond any of their anticipations. Nature was certainly bountiful in displaying her art in these little-known places.
After a fifteen-minute hike they reached a region of thick bushes, many of which bore sharp-pointed thorns that were far from pleasant to encounter. Even with their heavy clothing, they emerged with torn garments and with bruises that stung and pained severely. But the unpleasantness was lost before the many tropical wonders that presented themselves.
Suddenly a flock of white birds flew overhead, and Mr. Lewis and Bob fired their shotguns together. At once four fell to the ground, amid the terrible screeching of the others.
“Egrets,” said Mr. Holton, upon examining the birds.
As the hunters moved on they added many other birds and small animals to the collection. One of the most remarkable of the latter was a large ant-bear, with a long, slender head that terminated into a toothless mouth. The creature was about four feet long, with a bushy tail protruding another two feet.
Bob and Joe did their part in the specimen-collecting, and they at once won the recognition of their elders for their accurate shooting. Bob was especially praised, for he was not far behind the men in marksmanship.
The hunters had been out several hours when Mr. Lewis suggested that they get back to the village.
“Professor Bigelow and the others may worry about us,” he said. “In my opinion we have been out long enough for the first time.”
The others agreed, and they were about to retrace their footsteps when Joe caught sight of something that turned his blood cold.
CHAPTER XVI
A Thrilling Encounter
PROTRUDING from a tree bough not ten feet away was a long, sinister snake, its evil eyes glistening in what little sunlight penetrated the dense jungle. Whether it was poisonous Joe did not know, but he knew that even though it were not it would be dangerous to the extreme.
As cautiously as possible he nudged his companions, and then the naturalists held their rifles tighter. Here, only a short distance away, was a jararaca, one of the most poisonous of Brazilian reptiles – a snake that often was known to take the aggressive.
For a moment there was silence – an ominous silence that ended in a blood-curdling hiss.
Mr. Holton and Mr. Lewis raised their rifles and took long and careful aim. Bob followed suit, although he was not sure that his aim would be true.
Then, just as the snake prepared to strike, the men fired simultaneously, and Bob pulled the trigger a second later.
In such a crisis it was necessary that their bullets take effect, and they did.
The reptile’s head was shattered into a horrible pulp that was all but sickening, and the great body lashed about in pain. For several minutes the movements continued; then, as life faded out, the snake became less active, finally stretching out into one last mass.
“Whew!” breathed Bob, relaxing for the first time. “That was some encounter.”
Mr. Holton nodded in affirmation.
“If we had been stung by those terrible fangs it would have been the last of us,” he said, casting a resentful look in that direction.
“The venom is extremely powerful,” remarked Mr. Lewis, wiping the perspiration from his brow. “It is yellow in color, and takes effect almost immediately. The nervous system becomes paralyzed in a very short time.”
“A pleasant way to die – I don’t think,” muttered Joe, shrugging his shoulders.
They made a wide circle about the reptile’s body and started on the return journey.
“I’d like to have it as a specimen,” remarked Mr. Lewis, referring to the jararaca. “But in its shattered condition it would not be worth the taking.”
The hunters rested awhile under the shade of a large hardwood tree, whose branches extended out over a great distance. Then Mr. Holton took up his belongings, and the others did the same.
Gradually the jungle became less dense, and at last they came to the village, where they were given a hearty greeting by the Indians, who were glad to see the hunters back in the village. They found Professor Bigelow in the hut, his hands flying over the keys of the typewriter.
At first he did not notice them, thinking they were Indians, but finally he lifted his gaze.
“What kind of luck did you have?” he inquired absently.
The others hesitated a moment at the professor’s almost unconscious question. It was evident that the anthropologist was becoming deeply absorbed in this work of observing the daily life of the little-known Indians. Then, with a wink at the others, Mr. Holton decided on a preposterous answer to see how the professor would take it.
“We brought down two tigers and an elephant,” he said, in as sober tones as he could summon.
“Hmm. Well, that’s fine” – the typewriter still clicked rapidly. “I suppose you’ll have them skinned at once?”
Bob and Joe could not help breaking out in laughter, and the naturalists joined them. Professor Bigelow looked up in surprise.
“I must confess I wish I could see something humorous,” he said, stopping his writing for a moment and looking at his companions in wonder.
The others were laughing all the harder now, and poor Professor Bigelow was bewildered beyond words. Only an explanation would satisfy him.
As soon as Mr. Holton could regain his breath he hastened to assure the professor that it was nothing about his person that caused the laugh, but only his intense scientific enthusiasm. He joined in the merriment also when the joke was told.
“That’s one on me,” he said mirthfully. “I guess I was too deeply engrossed in this manuscript.”
The remainder of that day was spent rather idly, for, hot as it had previously been, it seemed to grow all the more stifling. Bob remarked that he did not feel like doing anything but loafing, and the others were none different.
The next day Bob, Joe, and their fathers again started out on a collecting trip and added many new specimens to the already large assemblage. They brought in gorgeously colored macaws, screamers, woodpeckers, trumpeters, finfoots, waxbills, and many other birds. They shot many small animals, including a type of opossum, a large lizard, and an armadillo. It was indeed a large number of specimens that the naturalists prepared that night.
“So far, everything is working out fine,” smiled Mr. Lewis, as he put the fauna up for exhibition.
Meanwhile the chief, Otari, was helping Professor Bigelow as best he could and gave him several articles of daily use as a present, in return for which the professor gave the Indian beads and mirrors and other objects dear to all primitive people.
“I have enough material now to write several books,” the professor said joyfully. “The museum certainly will welcome this information. And these articles that the chief gave me – well, they will tickle the museum heads greatly.”
Time tended to increase rather than lessen the number of daily interests to the explorers, and they found themselves living as in a dream. The great tropical forest about them added an enchantment to the work, and the simple, primitive people that they were living with caused them to imagine themselves living in prehistoric times.
“It’s great, Joe, old boy,” said Bob, deeply stirred. “Who would have ever thought that away out here in the wilderness it would be possible to come across things so interesting?”
“Yet,” said Joe, “I suppose they wouldn’t be interesting to everyone.”
One day, when the party had been at the Indian village nearly a week, Bob and Joe asked permission to go into the forest and try their luck at getting specimens.
“All right,” Mr. Holton replied. “But don’t get too far away.”
Bob picked out a rifle and Joe a small shotgun, and after parting words with their elders they made for the jungle.
The trail was one that they had never taken, and it was consequently necessary to be doubly careful to pick the right branch. But they had little difficulty, as the main path was much wider than the branches.
In no time they were engulfed by the jungle, which was here even thicker than they had previously found it. Monkeys were more numerous in the tree boughs, and they peered doubtfully at the white hunters who had invaded their land.
Joe raised his shotgun and brought several down, intent upon leaving them at the spot until they would return to the village.
“So far, so good,” remarked Bob. “Wonder what else we’ll come across?”
“Time will tell,” Joe replied.
On and on they trekked, keeping a sharp lookout on all sides. Once Bob lost his footing and went sprawling on the ground.
“Better be more careful,” warned Joe.
Suddenly there came a loud snort, and the youths were on the alert at the instant.
Gripping their guns tightly, they stopped and waited.
Again it came, and the next minute they caught sight of a wild pig, or peccary, rustling the tall grass not far away.
“Keep still,” whispered Bob, raising his rifle. “Maybe I can get him. Then we can have meat – and his hide as a specimen.”
Several moments Bob spent in taking careful aim. Then he pulled the trigger.
Bang! Oink! Oink! Silence.
“Hurrah!” cried Joe. “Killed him dead as a doornail. Now to get his – ”
He stopped suddenly as he caught sight of something that froze him with horror. Not fifty feet down the path rushed a drove of peccaries numbering at least twenty.
CHAPTER XVII
Terrible Peccaries
“RUN!” cried Bob in tones of mortal terror.
He tore down the path at full speed, closely followed by Joe, who was panting furiously.
The youths had a start of less than fifty feet, but how long they could keep in the lead they well knew, for hardly any creature, large or small, could elude the tireless chase of peccaries.
They dared not glance back for fear of stumbling, but feared that the wild pigs were gaining rapidly.
What would the boys do? How could they ever escape that furious drove?
Suddenly Joe’s foot slipped and he went down, his face as pale as death. He looked appealingly to Bob.
Bob wheeled about and brought his rifle to his shoulder. The nearest peccary was not more than ten feet away. The youth took hasty aim, then pulled the trigger.
At the report of the gun the animal fell, gasping and writhing about.
Bob worked the bolt on his rifle. He took a second aim at the next peccary and killed it.
For a moment, at least, the jungle was cleared, and by now Joe had arisen to his feet, although the pain in his ankle was terrific.
“Come on,” beckoned Bob. “We must get away at once. The rest of them will be here in a moment. Can you make it?”
“I – I guess so. My ankle hurts terribly, though.”
Not far away there was a large hollow, the place where the roots of a tree had been before a hurricane had uprooted them. To this the boys made with all speed. If they could only reach it in time there might be a chance of escape, for the peccaries would find it hard to climb the steep bank.
The youths scrambled down the edge and tumbled to the bottom. Then they began the task of climbing the opposite side. They reached the top just as the drove started down, and for the first time felt that they had a good chance of escaping.
“Make for the trail,” panted Joe. “Then we might get back to the village.”
They kept up the fast pace for a distance of several hundred yards, and then, panting and gasping, they slowed down to a trot.
“Guess we’ve thrown them off the track,” breathed Joe, hobbling along almost on one foot.
“Let’s hope so,” Bob answered, glancing around for a brief moment.
At last they parted the foliage and burst into the village, their faces red with fatigue, their bodies dripping with perspiration.
Mr. Lewis came out to meet them, and he glanced up in some surprise.
“What happened?” he asked, sensing that the youths had met with some misfortune.
“Peccaries!” returned Bob. “A drove of peccaries! Doesn’t that mean something?”
“Ah!” the naturalist exclaimed. “Well, it’s no wonder you’re so worn out. Let’s hear about it.”
Mr. Holton and Professor Bigelow now came running out, along with a few Indians.
Bob related their narrow escape from the wild pigs, and Mr. Holton shook his head gravely.
“You don’t want any more such encounters,” he said. “Good luck like that couldn’t happen twice.”
“At that, we would have got away sooner if Joe hadn’t sprained his ankle,” said Bob.
“A sprained ankle is a bad thing to have when in a wild land,” said Professor Bigelow, with a grim smile. “It often proves one’s own undoing. But now,” he added, “I’m off to converse with the chief. I’m getting a wealth of information about these strange people.”
But though he was meeting with success, the professor was destined not to be satisfied in prolonging his stay in this village. It happened in this way. The explorers were seated about the campfire one evening when the chief happened casually to mention a strange Indian tribe that lived in the remote beyond. At once the anthropologist was on the alert, ready to hear anything that Otari might say.
“Tell me something about them,” urged the scientist in the native tongue.
The chief explained that little was known about the tribe, except that the members were extremely warlike and did not hesitate to kill anyone that looked to be an enemy. Often they were cannibalistic, boiling their victims in huge clay kettles. Asked how he knew about them, Otari replied that one of his tribe, a born rover and adventurer, happened to come across them when on an exploring expedition in the upper reaches of the river. At first he was taken prisoner but was later released and allowed to return down the river.
For nearly five minutes after Otari had finished, Professor Bigelow was thoughtfully silent, absorbed in picturing the journey into the unknown. How wonderful it would be to visit this strange tribe! What an opportunity to win recognition from eminent men of his profession!
“How far away is this place?” he asked at last.
How far? A journey of many, many days through wild, heavily forested country. It would not be safe to attempt the journey.
The professor then asked the chief how he thought the unknown tribe would treat the explorers, and the big Indian shook his head doubtfully.
“Otanima turutee nevark [take big chance],” he said vaguely, and then proceeded to point out the many dangers that would accompany the venture.
But despite the Indian’s warning, Professor Bigelow was determined to investigate this unknown tribe. It was more than likely that Otari was influenced by native superstition and that the dangers that he feared were largely imaginative. After all he (Professor Bigelow) had looked up many other strange people in various parts of the world and had had little difficulty in winning their good will. Even the wildest of savages, if well treated and presented with gifts, were more or less easily won over. Surely this tribe would not be worse than others he had visited.
Professor Bigelow sought out his companions and put the facts before them, not hesitating to tell them that the venture would probably be dangerous and fraught with displeasures. But he pointed out much stronger that there would be a wonderful opportunity to study the most primitive of men, in addition to finding many strange, or perhaps unknown, animals.
The others listened intently, and in the end they were very thoughtful.
Bob and Joe remained silent. Here was a time when they thought it best not to voice an opinion, for they had had no experience in the work of exploring.
“If it were not for the fact that the boys are with us I would answer ‘yes’ at once,” said Mr. Lewis. “But since they are, I hardly know what to say.”
“It would be terrible if anything should happen to them,” put in Mr. Holton. “But they have proven that they are able to take care of themselves in almost any predicament, and we wouldn’t need to worry about them. Still, that wouldn’t prevent anything from happening to the whole party. Yet Professor Bigelow has shown that he has an enormous amount of ability to handle savage people, and I’d be willing to bet that in the end we’d come out all right. What do you think of it, Ben?”
“I’m willing to go if you are,” Mr. Lewis replied. “As you said, we’ll probably have little or no trouble.”
“Then you’ll go?” the professor asked.
The others nodded.
“Fine! I assure you that I will do all in my power to bring about friendly relations. And I might add that Otari has consented to give me a list of words of the strange tribe’s language. He got them from the fellow that wandered into their domain.
“Now the next thing,” he continued, “is to get our belongings together and pack them in the boats. You can start doing that now, while I look up Otari. I’ll be back in a very short time.”
The next minute he was gone, and the naturalists and their sons began the task of packing their provisions in the boats. For some time no one spoke. Then Mr. Lewis put down a box he was carrying and turned to the others.
“We don’t want to have any bloodshed if we can possibly prevent it,” he said gravely. “But there may be a time when we’ll find it necessary to use our rifles in order to protect our lives. In that case, every man must be depended upon to be wide awake and do his part in the shooting. Let’s hope that nothing like that happens, but as there is a possibility, it is best to be on the safe side. I think it might be wise to construct sides and a top on the boats, so as to ward off spears and poisoned arrows – if any should come our way. We can get the Indians to help us, and Otari will point out the best wood to use. What do you say?”