*VIII*
*THE FIRST TIGER-CAT*
The Santa Rosa opened out wide, and ran swiftly over smooth rock. Deepcracks, a foot or so wide, crossed the river diagonally, and fish dartedin and out.
The boys had about half a mile of this, when, after turning a hillybend, they entered a long rapid. It was a wonderful stretch of river tolook down.
"By George!" said Ken, as he stood up to survey it. "This is great!"
"It's all right _now_," added George, with his peculiar implication asto the future.
"What gets me is the feeling of what might be round the next bend," saidHal.
This indeed, Ken thought, made the fascination of such travel. Thewater was swift and smooth and shallow. There was scarcely a wave orripple. At times the boat stuck fast on the flat rock, and the boyswould have to get out to shove off. As far ahead as Ken could seeextended this wide slant of water. On the left rose a thick line ofhuge cypresses all festooned with gray moss that drooped to the water;on the right rose a bare bluff of crumbling rock. It looked like blueclay baked and cracked by the sun. A few palms fringed the top.
"Say, we can beat this," said Ken, as for the twentieth time the boyshad to step out and shove off a flat, shallow place. "Two of you in thebow and Pepe with me in the stern, feet overboard."
The little channels ran every way, making it necessary often to turn theboat. Ken's idea was to drift along and keep the boat from grounding byan occasional kick.
"Ken manages to think of something once in a while," observed Hal.
Then the boat drifted down-stream, whirling round and round. Here Pepewould drop his brown foot in and kick his end clear of a shallow ledge;there George would make a great splash when his turn came to ward offfrom a rock; and again Hal would give a greater kick than was necessaryto the righting of the boat. Probably Hal was much influenced by thefact that when he kicked hard he destroyed the lazy equilibrium of hiscompanions.
It dawned upon Ken that here was a new and unique way to travel down ariver. It was different from anything he had ever tried before. Thewater was swift and seldom more than a foot deep, except in diagonalcracks that ribbed the river-bed. This long, shut-in stretch appearedto be endless. But for the quick, gliding movement of the boat, whichmade a little breeze, the heat would have been intolerable. When one ofHal's kicks made Ken lurch overboard to sit down ludicrously, the coolwater sent thrills over him. Instead of retaliating on Hal, he was gladto be wet. And the others, soon discovering the reason for Ken'sremarkable good-nature, went overboard and lay flat in the cool ripples.Then little clouds of steam began to rise from their soaked clothes.
Ken began to have an idea that he had been wise in boiling the waterwhich they drank. They all suffered from a parching thirst. Pepe scoopedup water in his hand; George did likewise, and then Hal.
"You've all got to stop that," ordered Ken, sharply. "No drinking thiswater unless it's boiled."
The boys obeyed, for the hour, but they soon forgot, or deliberatelyallayed their thirst despite Ken's command. Ken himself found histhirst unbearable. He squeezed the juice of a wild lime into a cup ofwater and drank that. Then he insisted on giving the boys doses ofquinine and anti-malaria pills, which treatment he meant to continuedaily.
Toward the lower part of that rapid, where the water grew deeper, fishbegan to be so numerous that the boys kicked at many as they dartedunder the boat. There were thousands of small fish and some large ones.Occasionally, as a big fellow lunged for a crack in the rock, he wouldmake the water roar. There was a fish that resembled a mullet, andanother that Hal said was some kind of bass with a blue tail. Pepechopped at them with his _machete_; George whacked with an oar; Halstood up in the boat and shot at them with his .22 rifle.
"Say, I've got to see what that blue-tailed bass looks like," said Ken."You fellows will never get one."
Whereupon Ken jointed up a small rod and, putting on a spinner, began tocast it about. He felt two light fish hit it. Then came a heavy shockthat momentarily checked the boat. The water foamed as the line cutthrough, and Ken was just about to jump off the boat to wade and followthe fish, when it broke the leader.
"That was a fine exhibition," remarked the critical Hal.
"What's the matter with you?" retorted Ken, who was sensitive as to hisfishing abilities. "It was a big fish. He broke things."
"Haven't you got a reel on that rod and fifty yards of line?" queriedHal.
Ken did not have another spinner, and he tried an artificial minnow, butcould not get a strike on it. He took Hal's gun and shot at several ofthe blue-tailed fish, but though he made them jump out of the water likea real northern black-bass, it was all of no avail.
Then Hal caught one with a swoop of the landing net. It was a beautifulfish, and it did have a blue tail. Pepe could not name it, nor couldKen classify it, so Hal was sure he had secured a rare specimen.
When the boat drifted round a bend to enter another long, wide, shallowrapid, the boys demurred a little at the sameness of things. The bareblue bluffs persisted, and the line of gray-veiled cypresses and thestrange formation of stream-bed. Five more miles of drifting under theglaring sun made George and Hal lie back in the boat, under animprovised sun-shade. The ride was novel and strange to Ken Ward, anddid not pall upon him, though he suffered from the heat and glare. Hesat on the bow, occasionally kicking the boat off a rock.
All at once a tense whisper from Pepe brought Ken round with a jerk.Pepe was pointing down along the right-hand shore. George heard, and,raising himself, called excitedly: "Buck! buck!"
Ken saw a fine deer leap back from the water and start to climb the sideof a gully that indented the bluff. Snatching up the .351 rifle, heshoved in the safety catch. The distance was far--perhaps two hundredyards--but without elevating the sights he let drive. A cloud of dustpuffed up under the nose of the climbing deer.
"Wow!" yelled George, and Pepe began to jabber. Hal sprang up, nearlyfalling overboard, and he shouted: "Give it to him, Ken!"
The deer bounded up a steep, winding trail, his white flag standing, hisreddish coat glistening. Ken fired again. The bullet sent up a whitepuff of dust, this time nearer still. That shot gave Ken the range, andhe pulled the automatic again--and again. Each bullet hit closer. Theboys were now holding their breath, watching, waiting. Ken aimed alittle firmer and finer at the space ahead of the deer--for in thatinstant he remembered what the old hunter on Penetier had told him--andhe pulled the trigger twice.
The buck plunged down, slipped off the trail, and, raising a cloud ofdust, rolled over and over. Then it fell sheer into space, and whirleddown to strike the rock with a sodden crash.
It was Ken's first shooting on this trip, and he could not help adding acry of exultation to the yells of his admiring comrades.
"Guess you didn't plug him!" exclaimed Hal Ward, with flashing eyes.
Wading, the boys pulled the boat ashore. Pepe pronounced the buck to bevery large, but to Ken, remembering the deer in Coconino Forest, itappeared small. If there was an unbroken bone left in that deer, Kengreatly missed his guess. He and Pepe cut out the haunch least crushedby the fail.
"There's no need to carry along more meat than we can use," said George."It spoils overnight. That's the worst of this jungle, I've heardhunters say."
Hal screwed up his face in the manner he affected when he tried toimitate old Hiram Bent. "Wal, youngster, I reckon I'm right an' downproud of thet shootin'. You air comin' along."
Ken was as pleased as Hal, but he replied, soberly: "Well, kid, I hope Ican hold as straight as that when we run up against a jaguar."
"Do you think we'll see one?" asked Hal.
"Just you wait!" exclaimed George, replying for Ken. "Pepe says we'llhave to sleep in the boat, and anchor the boat in the middle of theriver."
"What for?"
"To keep those big yellow tigers from eating us up."
; "How nice!" replied Hal, with a rather forced laugh.
So, talking and laughing, the boys resumed their down-stream journey.Ken, who was always watching with sharp eyes, saw buzzards appear, as ifby magic. Before the boat was half a mile down the river buzzards werecircling over the remains of the deer. These birds of prey did not flyfrom the jungle on either side of the stream. They sailed, dropped downfrom the clear blue sky where they had been invisible. How wonderfulthat was to Ken! Nature had endowed these vulture-like birds withwonderful scent or instinct or sight, or all combined. But Ken believedthat it was power of sight which brought the buzzards so quickly to thescene of the killing. He watched them circling, sweeping down till acurve in the river hid them from view.
And with this bend came a welcome change. The bluff played out in arocky slope below which the green jungle was relief to aching eyes. Asthe boys made this point, the evening breeze began to blow. Theybeached the boat and unloaded to make camp.
"We haven't had any work to-day, but we're all tired just the same,"observed Ken.
"The heat makes a fellow tired," said George.
They were fortunate in finding a grassy plot where there appeared to bebut few ticks and other creeping things. That evening it was a littlesurprise to Ken to realize how sensitive he had begun to feel aboutthese jungle vermin.
Pepe went up the bank for fire-wood. Ken heard him slashing away withhis _machete_. Then this sound ceased, and Pepe yelled in fright. Kenand George caught up guns as they bounded into the thicket; Hal startedto follow, likewise armed. Ken led the way through a thorny brake tocome suddenly upon Pepe. At the same instant Ken caught a glimpse ofgray, black-striped forms slipping away in the jungle. Pepe shouted outsomething.
"Tiger-cats!" exclaimed George.
Ken held up his finger to enjoin silence. With that he stole cautiouslyforward, the others noiselessly at his heels. The thicket was linedwith well-beaten trails, and by following these and stooping low it waspossible to go ahead without rustling the brush. Owing to the gatheringtwilight Ken could not see very far. When he stopped to listen he heardthe faint crackling of dead brush and soft, quick steps. He had notproceeded far when pattering footsteps halted him. Ken dropped to hisknee. The boys knelt behind him, and Pepe whispered. Peering along thetrail Ken saw what he took for a wildcat. Its boldness amazed him.Surely it had heard him, but instead of bounding into the thicket itcrouched not more than twenty-five feet away. Ken took a quick shot atthe gray huddled form. It jerked, stretched out, and lay still. Then acrashing in the brush, and gray streaks down the trail told Ken of moregame.
"There they go. Peg away at them," called Ken.
George and Hal burned a good deal of powder and sent much lead whistlingthrough the dry branches, but the gray forms vanished in the jungle.
"We got one, anyway," said Ken.
He advanced to find his quarry quite dead. It was bigger than anywildcat Ken had ever seen. The color was a grayish yellow, almostwhite, lined and spotted with black. Ken lifted it and found it heavyenough to make a good load.
"He's a beauty," said Hal.
"Pepe says it's a tiger-cat," remarked George. "There are two or threekinds besides the big tiger. We may run into a lot of them and get someskins."
It was almost dark when they reached camp. While Pepe and Hal skinnedthe tiger-cat and stretched the pelt over a framework of sticks theother boys got supper. They were all very hungry and tired, and pleasedwith the events of the day. As they sat round the camp-fire there was aconstant whirring of water-fowl over their heads and an incessant hum ofinsects from the jungle.
"Ken, does it feel as wild to you here as on Buckskin Mountain?" askedHal.
"Oh yes, much wilder, Hal," replied his brother. "And it's different,somehow. Out in Arizona there was always the glorious expectancy ofto-morrow's fun or sport. Here I have a kind of worry--a feeling--"
But he concluded it wiser to keep to himself that strange feeling ofdread which came over him at odd moments.
"It suits me," said Hal. "I want to get a lot of things and keep themalive. Of course, I want specimens. I'd like some skins for my den,too. But I don't care so much about killing things."
"Just wait!" retorted George, who evidently took Hal's remark as areflection upon his weakness. "Just wait! You'll be shooting prettysoon for your life."
"Now, George, what do you mean by that?" questioned Ken, determined topin George down to facts. "You said you didn't really know anythingabout this jungle. Why are you always predicting disaster for us?"
"Why? Because I've heard things about the jungle," retorted George."And Pepe says wait till we get down off the mountain. He doesn't _know_anything, either. But it's his instinct--Pepe's half Indian. So I say,too, wait till we get down in the jungle!"
"Confound you! Where are we now?" queried Ken.
"The real jungle is the lowland. There we'll find the tigers and thecrocodiles and the wild cattle and wild pigs."
"Bring on your old pigs and things," replied Hal.
But Ken looked into the glowing embers of the camp-fire and was silent.When he got out his note-book and began his drawing, he forgot the worryand dread in the interest of his task. He was astonished at his memory,to see how he could remember every turn in the river and yet not losehis sense of direction. He could tell almost perfectly the distancetraveled, because he knew so well just how much a boat would cover inswift or slow waters in a given time. He thought he could give a fairlycorrect estimate of the drop of the river. And, as for descriptions ofthe jungle life along the shores, that was a delight, all except tryingto understand and remember and spell the names given to him by Pepe.Ken imagined Pepe spoke a mixture of Toltec, Aztec, Indian, Spanish, andEnglish.