CHAPTER VI LOST IN THE JUNGLE
Could Johnny have witnessed the dismay and confusion caused by his suddenescape he would have felt far less concerned over his present plight. Thefirst eager pursuers crashed wildly about in the jungle, rushing forwardat every sound only to discover that it was made by another hunterinstead of the hunted. Their shouts brought other men pouring from thehuts and a half score of dogs, who jumped about and added to the din withtheir senseless yelping.
Daego shouted directions, but his shouts were either unheard or notclearly understood. Then he made an attempt to set the dogs on Johnny'strail. There were dogs a-plenty to overtake Johnny and slay him but forone thing--dogs are never eager to enter a tropical jungle.
Unaccompanied by his master, the native dog seldom goes far into thattangled mass of vegetation. There are reasons enough for this. Poisonoussnakes, ten feet long, lurk in the decay at the base of great trees.Jaguars, prepared to pounce upon a dog, lie flat along great branches,and the uncouth "mountain cow" (tapir) is all too ready to tear him topieces with her sharp hoofs.
So, though urged on by their enraged masters, the dogs did not venturefar and soon enough came crawling back, their defeat registered bydrooping tails.
So Johnny Thompson was safe. And yet, was he safe? As the dull agony ofexhaustion left him, he began, in a slow, numb sort of way, to rememberwhere he was. He was in a tropical jungle. It was early dusk and thecoming night would be made hideous by the barking of alligators, thescream of wild parrots and the hoarse call of jaguars. To move down thetrail after darkness would be dangerous. Curled on that trail might be agreat snake whose fangs offered sure death. Further movement might call ajaguar to leap upon him from the tree tops.
On the other hand, if he went forward on this trail he might come towater. Already his throat was parched, his tongue swollen. Then, too, asmall stream meant a certain amount of protection and a possible fire. Hehad matches in his pocket, a small box of them. As he thought of these hewrapped them in his handkerchief for safer keeping.
Then of a sudden a more terrible realization came to him. Not only was hein a tropical jungle, but he was lost.
"Lost!" he whispered in an awed tone.
"Lost!" "Lost!" the strange rustle of palms seemed to answer back.
It was true, must be true. Hardgrave, who had spent years in the jungle,had warned him: "Don't ever dare to enter that jungle without a guide,not to go even a few rods. If you do, you're lost."
"Rods," Johnny repeated, "I've gone miles!"
As he thought of it now, he realized that he must have crossed scores ofthese low, criss-crossings paths. Should he will to attempt it, he couldnot in a thousand days find his way back to Daego's clearing over thatdry sponge-like patch.
"Nor any other place," he told himself. "I'm lost! Lost!"
At first the thought left him so weak that he could not move. But in timestrength and courage came flooding back. He was young, strong,resourceful. There was a way out. He would find it. Daego was doubtlessat this moment sitting in his cabin smoking cigarets and contemplatingthe day when he would move across the river and take charge of Johnny'sdeserted camp.
"That will never be!" Johnny told himself, setting his teeth hard.
To his surprise, as his hand went to his knee he found his clothing wet.
"Must have crossed some small stream and in my wild fear, never knew it.No more of that. I'll be calm. I must be calm--and I must think clearly."
"A stream," he mused, "means water for drinking and a place of greatersafety. What's more," he exclaimed, attempting to spring to his feet onlyto be tossed back by closely woven vines and branches, "that means a wayout. A small stream flows into a large one; the larger one into one stilllarger, and in time one comes to Rio Hondo, the old Black River. There Imight find a rotting native cabin and perhaps a dugout for floating downto my camp. But first I must find the beginning. There is a beginning toall things."
He contemplated the gathering darkness. There was yet a little time.Which way should he go? He shuddered at the thought of going back. Thereseemed to be an equally good chance ahead. So, slowly, always with an eyeout for those terrible snakes, he crept forward into the gathering gloom.
As time went on he struggled forward, and as the darkness deepened itseemed to him that he must, Tarzan-like, spend the night in some greatmahogany or Santa Maria tree. The thought was depressing. His throatached from thirst. There were jaguars in the trees. Exhausted as he was,he might fall asleep and plunge from the tree to his death.
As this thought came near to a conviction and when hope had all but fled,he rounded a sudden turn in the trail and his eyes were half blinded by alight which was much brighter than the gloom to which his eyes had beenaccustomed. The light was at the spot where the bush and the trailappeared to end,--a distance of less than a hundred yards.
What could it mean? Had fate played a trick on him? Had he followed acircle in the jungle, only to return to Daego's camp? Was this some otherclearing? If so, whose could it be?
For a moment he remained there motionless, staring. Then, with a speedborn of sudden hope and maddening fear, he sprinted forward toward thelight.
Even as he moved forward the light faded, and night, such night as onlythe jungle knows, settled down over all.
Driven half mad by this sudden fading of his dreams, throwing all cautionaside, Johnny rushed straight on until, with a sudden gasp, he threwhimself backward. One foot had plunged into water. In another second hewould have pitched head-foremost into some stream; what stream he couldnot know. The thing he did know very soon was that out in the water somelittle distance away gleamed two red balls.
"The eyes of an alligator," he murmured. "Well, anyway, here is water."He drank greedily.
As he attempted to pierce the darkness about him, he was able to guesswhat it was that had caused the unusual light. The sky, dimly visiblethrough overhanging branches, was filled with black clouds. There hadcome, without doubt, one of those last sudden flashes of sunsets whichgleam out, then are lost forever. This light shining upon the water hadbeen dazzling in its intensity. Because of its very intensity thefollowing darkness had appeared quite complete.
Once his eyes had become accustomed to the feeble light, Johnny was ableto distinguish some of the black bulks about him. Downstream, hanging farover the water, was a palm. Upstream he caught the dim outline of somedull gray masses.
"Rocks, I hope," he murmured as he moved slowly in that direction.
There was now reason enough for caution. Sharp-nosed alligators of thesestreams sometimes slept on the banks. To disturb one was to invitedisaster. To break a twig or make any other unusual sound might be tocall other wild creatures to attack him.
So, parting the branches with great care, he moved on cautiously untilwith a grateful heart he put a hand out to touch a huge rough boulder.
Mounted upon this heap of rough rocks, of which there were five, each aslarge as a sleeping elephant, he breathed more freely.
"Now for a little fire," he thought. "All wild things fear fire."
It was not long until the stream, which appeared to be some twenty feetwide at this point, was lighted by the blazing flames of quick burningpalm leaves.
Sudden as was the blaze, even more sudden was its fading. Looking awayfrom the red glow of coals, Johnny tried to peer into the dense darknessthat followed. He could distinguish only the red gleam of eyes. They wereall about him; upon the water, on the bank, in the tree tops.
Monkeys, fierce black little creatures, chattered from the tallest trees.From the ground sounded many odd grunts, which the boy could notinterpret. Coming down the river, like a dimly lighted floating burialprocession, were the silent alligators.
"It's all very strange and--and somewhat spooky," he told himself.
With a shudder he seized a dully glowing brand and, having fanned it intoflame, went boldly forth in search of wood. This time he would gathermore
substantial material. His fire must last longer, much longer, forsomehow he must snatch a little sleep.
Waving his firebrand before him in one hand, he gathered fuel with theother. Some dead ferns and palm branches, the fallen branch of a blacktamarind, the half rotted stem of a yamra, some large branches of a treequite unknown to him, all these would send the light of his fire gleamingout into the night for hours to come.
Soon, with his fire glowing cheerily, he settled down on a chair-likerock crevice and with head bent forward, hands hanging down before him,every muscle relaxed, he tried to induce sleep to come.
It did not come at once. His mind worked on. Across its silver screenthere passed a long procession of pictures. The trip up the river, thewild forest, the dark Caribs all about him, the silent black river, Daegoseated before the table, money, twenty thousand dollars fluttering beforehim, the surprised look of the Spaniards as the table tore through thewall, then the jungle, the terrible uncertain jungle with its wild perilsand its noisesome nights.
Then, as will happen when half thoughts and half dreams come, the reelchanged. He was sitting with old Hardgrave, his friend who had seensixty-eight summers, twenty-five of them in the tropics. In the coolshade of the hotel porch at Belize the old man was showing him a crudelydrawn map and was pointing to a spot on that map.
"If you ever get to that spot," he seemed to hear him say, "you'll findIndian gods. I have seen them. Three of them, a black one, a blue one,and one of pure gold. I don't say you'll come back to tell anyone aboutit," the old man smiled a queer smile. "They say it's dangerous to go upthere and I reckon it is. Truth is, no one knows the way there and back.It's up in the bush somewhere. That's all anyone knows. It's all I know,and I've been there once.
"You may be sure I didn't mean to go there," he reminisced. "They foundme sick with a fever, the Indians did, and carried me to their village inthe bush and cured me up. Wanted me to stay on with them. Seemed to sortof take a liking to me. I told them I wouldn't.
"At first they said I didn't have any choice in the matter. Took me tosee some bones, human bones. White man's bones I'd say from the size ofthem. Then they took me back to the village.
"Something changed their minds, though. I don't know what. One day theyblindfolded me and took me through the bush and downstream for a wholeday. When my eyes were uncovered I found myself in a dugout on a part ofthe Rio Hondo that I knew.
"So, Johnny," he added with a rare smile, "if you really want some Mayagods, you just hunt that place up. They've got some black ones, and somethat are green, and at least one of pure gold."
Johnny did want one or two of these Maya Indian gods. A very good friendhad asked him to bring back one or two for his collection. He hadpromised to perform this commission.
"I had no notion they were so hard to get," he told himself now. "Itwould be strange if I should stumble upon those Mayas up heresomewhere,--strange and rather startling.
"Black gods and green ones, and at least one of pure gold," he repeated,half asleep.
Then of a sudden he started up. His fire was burning low. After throwingon a fresh supply of fuel, he thought more clearly of the consequences ifhe should fall into the hands of these strange bush people. He was not atall sure that, once they had found him, they would allow him to return.
"And then," he thought, "our camp would fall into the hands of Daegounless--unless Pant were strong enough and resourceful enough to hold hisown against that wily half-caste rascal.
"Poor Pant," he murmured, "what will he think when I don't return? I hopehe doesn't start a big fight right off the bat. He must not. I mustreturn. Somehow I must get back. I'll do it, too! See if I don't! I'llmake some sort of raft and float down this stream from nowhere tosomewhere."
At that he fell asleep and, as the fire burned low, the glow of eyes fromthe river, in the trees, on the ground, moved closer and ever closer.