CHAPTER VIII--FIERCELY AND WILDLY BOTH SIDES FOUGHT
The gloomy event related in last chapter must not be allowed to cast adamper over our story.
Of course death is always and everywhere hovering near, but why shouldboys like you and me, reader, permit that truth to cloud our days orstand between us and happiness?
Two years, then, have elapsed since poor, brave Tom St. Clair's death.
He is buried near the edge of the forest in a beautiful enclosure whererare shrubs grow, and where flowers trail and climb far more beautifulthan any we ever see in England.
At first Mrs. St. Clair had determined to sell all off and go back tothe old country, but her overseer Jake Solomons and Mr. Peter persuadedher not to, or it seemed that it was their advice which kept her fromcarrying out her first intentions. But she had another reason, shefound she could not leave that lonesome grave yet awhile.
So the years passed on.
The estate continued to thrive.
Roland was now a handsome young fellow in his eighteenth year, andPeggy, now beautiful beyond compare, was nearly fifteen.
Dick Temple, the bold and reckless huntsman and horseman, was quieternow in his attentions towards her. She was no longer the child that hecould lift on to his broad young shoulders and carry, neighing andgalloping like a frightened colt, round and round the lawn.
And Roland felt himself a man. He was more sober and sedate, and hadtaken over all his father's work and his father's responsibilities. Butfor all that, lightly enough lay the burden on his heart.
For he had youth on his side, and
"In the lexicon of youth which fate reserves For a bright manhood there is no such word As fail".
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I do not, however, wish to be misunderstood. It must not be supposedthat Roland had no difficulties to contend with, that all his businesslife was as fair and serene as a bright summer's day. On the contrary,he had many losses owing to the fluctuations of the markets and thefailures of great firms, owing to fearful storms, and more than onceowing to strikes or revolts among his Indians in the great india-rubberforest.
But Roland was light-hearted and young, and difficulties in life, I haveoften said, are just like nine-pins, they are put up to be bowled over.
Besides, be it remembered that if it were all plain sailing with us inthis world we should not be able to appreciate how really happy ourlives are. The sky is always bluest 'twixt the darkest clouds.
On the whole, Roland, who took stock, and, with honest Bill and JakeSolomons, went over the books every quarter, had but little reason tocomplain. This stock-taking consumed most of their spare time for thegreater part of a week, and when it was finished Roland invariably gavea dinner-party, at which I need hardly say his dear friend Dick Templewas present. And this was always the happiest of happy nights to Dick,because the girl he loved more than all things on earth put together washere, and looked so innocent and beautiful in her simple dresses ofwhite and blue.
There was no such thing as flirtation here, but Dick was fully andcompletely in earnest when he told himself that if he lived till he wasthree- or four-and-twenty he would ask Peggy to be his wife.
Ah! there is many a slip 'twixt the cup and the lip.
Dick, I might, could, would, or should have told you before, lived witha bachelor uncle, who, being rather old and infirm, seldom came out. Hehad good earnest men under him, however, as overseers, and hisplantations were thriving, especially that in which tobacco wascultivated.
The old man was exceedingly fond of Dick, and Dick would be his heir.
Probably it was for his uncle's sake that Dick stayed in thecountry--and of course for Peggy's and Roland's--for, despite its grandfield for sport and adventure, the lad had a strange longing to go toEngland and play cricket or football.
He had been born in Britain just as Roland was, and had visited hischildhood's home more than once during his short life.
Now just about this time Don Pedro, or Mr. Peter as all called him, hadasked for and obtained a holiday. He was going to Para for a change, hesaid, and to meet a friend from England.
That he did meet a friend from England there was little doubt, but theirinterview was a very short one. Where he spent the rest of his time wasbest known to himself.
In three months or a little less he turned up smiling again, and mosteffusive.
About a fortnight after his arrival he came to Jake one morning prettyearly.
Jake was preparing to start on horseback for the great forest.
"I'm on the horns of a dilemma, Mr. Solomons," he said, laughing hisbest laugh. "During the night about twenty Bolivian Indians haveencamped near to the forest. They ask for work on the india-rubbertrees. They are well armed, and all sturdy warriors. They look as iffighting was more in their line than honest labour."
"Well, Mr. Peter, what is their excuse for being here anyhow?"
"They are bound for the sea-shore at the mouths of the river, and wantto earn a few dollars to help them on."
"Well, where is the other horn of the dilemma?"
"Oh! if I give them work they may corrupt our fellows."
"Then, Mr. Peter, I'd give the whole blessed lot the boot and the sack."
"Ah! now, Mr. Solomons, you've got to the other horn. These savages,for they are little else, are revengeful."
"We're not afraid."
"No, we needn't be were they to make war openly, but they are sly, andas dangerous as sly. They would in all probability burn us down somedark night."
Jake mused for a minute. Then he said abruptly:
"Let the poor devils earn a few dollars, Mr. Peter, if they arestony-broke, and then send them on their way rejoicing."
"That's what I say, too," said Burly Bill, who had just come up. "I'vebeen over yonder in the starlight. They look deuced uncouth and nasty.So does a bull-dog, Jake, but is there a softer-hearted, more kindly dogin all creation?"
So that very day the Indians set to work with the other squads.
The labour connected with the collecting of india-rubber is by no meansvery hard, but it requires a little skill, and is irksome to those notused to such toil.
But labour is scarce and Indians are often lazy, so on the whole Jakewas not sorry to have the new hands, or "serinqueiros" as they arecalled.
The india-rubber trees are indigenous and grow in greatest profusion onthat great tributary of the Amazon called the Madeira. But when poorTom St. Clair came to the country he had an eye to business. He knewthat india-rubber would always command a good market, and so he visitedthe distant forests, studied the growth and culture of the trees asconducted by Nature, and ventured to believe that he could improve uponher methods.
He was successful, and it was not a great many years before he had asplendid plantation of young trees in his forest, to say nothing of theolder ones that had stood the brunt of many a wild tropical storm.
It will do no harm if I briefly describe the method of obtaining theindia-rubber. Tiny pots of tin, holding about half a pint, are hungunder an incision in the bark of the tree, and these are filled andemptied every day, the contents being delivered by the Indian labourersat the house or hut of an under-overseer.
The sap is all emptied into larger utensils, and a large smoking fire,made of the nuts of a curious kind of palm called the Motokoo, beingbuilt, the operators dip wooden shovels into the sap, twirling theseround quickly and holding them in the smoke. Coagulation takes placevery quickly. Again the shovel is dipped in the sap, and the sameprocess is repeated until the coagulated rubber is about two inchesthick, when it is cooled, cut, or sliced off, and is ready for thedistant market.
Now, from the very day of their arrival, there was no love lost betweenthe old and steady hands and this new band of independent and flightyones.
The latter were willing enough to slice the bark and to hang up theirpannikins, and they would even empty them when filled, and condescend tocarry
their contents to the preparing-house. But they were lazy in theextreme at gathering the nuts, and positively refused to smoke the sapand coagulate it.
It made them weep, they explained, and it was much more comfortable tolie and wait for the sap while they smoked and talked in their ownstrange language.
After a few days the permanent hands refused to work at the same trees,or even in the same part of the estrados or roads that led through theplantation of rubber-trees.
A storm was brewing, that was evident. Nor was it very long before itburst.
All unconscious that anything was wrong, Peggy, with Brawn, was rompingabout one day enjoying the busy scene, Peggy often entering intoconversation with some of her old favourites, when one of the strangeIndians, returning from the tub with an empty tin, happened to tread onBrawn's tail.
The dog snarled, but made no attempt to bite. Afraid, however, that hewould spring upon the fellow, Peggy threw herself on the ground,encircling her arms around Brawn's shoulders, and it was she whoreceived the blow that was meant for the dog.
It cut her across the arm, and she fainted with pain.
Brawn sprang at once upon his man and brought him down.
"BRAWN SPRANG AT ONCE UPON HIS MAN"]
He shook the wretch as if he had been but a rat, and blood flowedfreely.
Burly Bill was not far off, and just as the great hound had all butfixed the savage by the windpipe, which he would undoubtedly have tornout, Bill pulled him off by the collar and pacified him.
The blood-stained Indian started to his legs to make good his retreat,but as his back was turned in flight, Bill rushed after him and dealthim a kick that laid him prone on his face.
This was the signal for a general melee, and a terrible one it was!
Bill got Peggy pulled to one side, and gave her in charge to Dick, whohad come thundering across on his huge horse towards the scene ofconflict.
Under the shelter of a spreading tree Dick lifted his precious charge.But she speedily revived when he laid her flat on the ground. Shesmiled feebly and held out her hand, which Dick took and kissed, thetears positively trickling over his cheeks.
Perhaps it was a kind of boyish impulse that caused him to say what henow said:
"Oh, Peggy, my darling, how I love you! Whereever you are, dear,wherever I am--oh, always think of me a little!"
That was all.
A faint colour suffused Peggy's cheek for just a moment. Then she satup, and the noble hound anxiously licked her face.
But she had made no reply.
Meanwhile the melee went merrily on, as a Donnybrook Irishman mightremark.
Fiercely and wildly both sides fought, using as weapons whatsoever camehandiest.
But soon the savages were beaten and discomfited with, sad to tell, theloss of one life--that of a savage.
Not only Jake himself, but Roland and Mr. Peter were now on the scene ofthe recent conflict. Close to Peter's side, watching every movement ofhis lips and eyes, stood Benee, the Indian who had saved the children.
Several times Peter looked as if he felt uneasy, and once he turnedtowards Benee as if about to speak.
He said nothing, and the man continued his watchful scrutiny.
After consulting for a short time together, Jake and Roland, with BurlyBill, determined to hold a court of inquiry on the spot.
But, strange to say, Peter kept aloof. He continued to walk to and fro,and Benee still hung in his rear. But this ex-savage was soon calledupon to act as interpreter if his services should be needed, which theypresently were.
Every one of the civilized Indians had the same story to tell of thelaziness and insolence of the Bolivians, and now Jake ordered the chiefof the other party to come forward.
They sulked for a short time.
But Jake drew his pistols, and, one in each hand, stepped out andordered all to the front.
They made no verbal response to the questions put to them through Benee.Their only reply was scowling.
"Well, Mr. St. Clair," said Jake, "my advice is to pay these rascals andsend them off."
"Good!" said Roland. "I have money."
The chief was ordered to draw nearer, and the dollars were counted intohis claw-like fist.
The fellow drew up his men in a line and gave to each his pay, reservinghis own.
Then at a signal, given by the chief, there was raised a terriblewar-whoop and howl.
The chief spat on his dollars and dashed them into a neighbouring pool.Every man did the same.
Roland was looking curiously on. He was wondering what would happennext.
He had not very long to wait, for with his foot the chief turned thedead man on his back, and the blood from his death-stab poured outafresh.
He dipped his palm in the red stream and held it up on high. His menfollowed his example.
Then all turned to the sun, and in one voice uttered just one word,which, being interpreted by Benee, was understood to mean--REVENGE!
They licked the blood from their hands, and, turning round, marched insilence and in single file out and away from the forest and were seen nomore.