Kitabı oku: «Where Duty Called: or, In Honor Bound», sayfa 4

CHAPTER VIII.
JAGUAR CLAWS

Jack Greenland made no reply to the remark of Ronie. In fact, there did not seem anything for him to say by way of answer. They saw that the country which lay back of them appeared barren and desolate. A few sickly shrubs pushed their crabbed heads above the sand dunes, but as far as they could see in the night the country was nearly level, and nothing more inviting than a sandy plain. The only cheerful sight that greeted their gaze was the crimson streak marking the eastern horizon, and which announced the breaking of a new day.

"I would give a good deal to know where Harrie is at this moment," said Ronie.

"We can only hope that he is able to look after himself," replied Jack. "And we can only make the most of our situation. As for me, I feel better on this sand bar than I have felt on board such ships as we have known since leaving Colon."

"If this is a sample of Venezuela," said Ronie, "I am heartily sick of it already."

"It is not. From what Captain Hawkins said, I judge we are on or near the shore, where the narrow tongue of water connects Lake Maracaibo with the sea. If this is the case we are twenty miles from the city. The lake is about one hundred and twenty miles long and ninety miles wide."

"But there must be some town nearer than the city you mention," said Ronie.

"Quite likely. As we can do no good by remaining here we might as well do a little prospecting. It may be well for us to move cautiously, as it is uncertain how we shall be treated. It is unfortunate that our letters of credit and other papers were lost with our chest."

"And all of our instruments and charts. Truly, Jack, it would seem as if we had been prompted to undertake this trip under the influence of an unlucky star."

Jack made no reply to this, but led the way from the shore, closely followed by Ronie. It was getting light enough for them to move with ease, as well as to get a good idea of their surroundings, which were not very inviting so far. But in the distance could be seen the dim outlines of the mountains and the borders of one of those luxuriant forests for which South America is noted.

Something like half a mile was passed in silence, when Jack paused, saying:

"If I am not mistaken, there is a small settlement off to our right. Perhaps we had better get a little nearer, though I hardly believe it will be good policy for us to be seen until we get a better understanding of our situation. We certainly cannot boast of being able to present a very attractive appearance," he added, ruefully, while he looked over his companion and himself.

In their bedraggled garments, not yet fully dry, it was small wonder if they did present a decidedly disheveled appearance.

"Do you think we are liable to an attack from the inhabitants in case we should be seen?"

"I do not know what to think. If this rebellion is general then we are in constant danger. I know of no better way than for us to push ahead and find out."

Suiting action to his words, Jack resumed the advance, with Ronie still beside him. It was now rapidly growing lighter, which was a source of satisfaction to them, as the cover of the growth they were entering promised to prove as effective a shield as the darkness had been when upon the sand plain.

Contrary to the expectations of Jack, they had not found the settlement looked for. In fact, as far as they could see, there were no signs of habitation anywhere in that vicinity. Thus, as they advanced, a feeling of loneliness came upon them that they could not throw off.

"I would give a good sum, if I had it, just to hear some one speak," declared Jack, thrusting his hands into his pockets, to pull them out the next moment with a prolonged whistle, which caused Ronie to start with fear at the unexpected sound.

"What is it, Jack?"

"By the horn of rock – Gibraltar, if you please! talk of being penniless when one pulls out of his pockets a whole handful of Spanish coin."

"It must be what you took in exchange at Colon," said Ronie, appearing relieved to find that nothing worse than a happy discovery had for a moment seemed to upset his companion. "I may have a little, too," beginning to search his pockets. "If I have not got money, then I have something here that may prove of use to us," producing a small pocket compass.

"Right, lad," said Jack. "Zounds! here's something that pleases me quite as much as the Spanish silver pieces. Here is the old knife I have carried with me on so many jaunts that it seems a part of myself. It had slipped down between the lining and the outside cloth of my jacket. In this jungle one feels better to have something with which to defend himself, even if it is nothing more than a good, stout knife, with a blade that has been tried and tested in some tough scrimmages. I think more of the old knife than ever."

The revival of Jack's usual good spirits served to encourage Ronie to somewhat forget their perils and uncertainty.

"Let's see," said Jack, dropping the coin back into his pocket, but holding the knife firmly in his hand, "if I'm not mistaken, by going due west we shall eventually reach the shore of Lake Maracaibo. We shall not have much difficulty then in reaching the city, from which we can go by rail to Caracas; if not all of the way, nearly so."

"In that case the compass will come in handy," said Ronie, and having selected their course, they now pushed forward with better courage than at any period since they had come to land.

It must have been half an hour later, and the sun was now sending its bright bars of light down through the umbrageous branches of the forest trees, one kind of which was laden with a profusion of bright and beautiful flowers, making the largest and most magnificent bouquets of floral offerings Ronie had ever seen, even in the Philippines, where the vegetation abounds on the grandest scale, when they were attracted by the sound of a human voice.

"There we get what a few minutes ago I was willing to give a big silver piece to hear," declared Jack. "By my faith, the fellow has lusty lungs. He must be getting excited, too."

"His tone shows he is in great fear," said Ronie. "Whoever he be, he is in some great danger or critical situation."

"Perhaps we had better push ahead, so as to lend him a helping hand in case he needs one."

Quickening their pace they tore through the tropical vegetation, the undergrowth of which stood high over their shoulders, in the direction of the appeals for help. These grew rapidly louder and more fraught with terror.

"He is close at hand," panted Jack, and the next moment they came upon a startling sight, which, for a brief while, held them spellbound. The underbrush had here been beaten down, and bruised into fragments by the furious trampling back and forth of a huge specimen of that king of the South American forest, the jaguar. The cause of the anger of this terrible brute, equal in size and ferocity to the tiger of the jungles of Asia, was the sight of a human being – a man – suspended in midair, almost over the head of the maddened creature. It was this person who had given forth his frantic cries for help, and who, unconscious of the arrival of strangers upon the scene, was continuing to utter his piteous appeals. His situation was as singular as it was startling. Somehow his feet had become caught in the topmost branches of a tall, slender sapling, which, bowed by his weight, held him head downward in the air, swaying to and fro like the pendulum of a clock. Fortunately, the tree was too small for the jaguar to climb so as to reach him in that way, while he hung just above the clutch of the brute as it sprang upward time and again in its furious attempt to seize its prey.

At that moment the infuriated creature was crouching to the earth preparatory to making another vault into the air in order to pounce upon its victim. Then the scent of newcomers reached its nostrils, and its small, piercing eyes quickly became fixed upon its prey within reach. The long tail lashed the air with renewed fury, the lissom form hugged closer to the ground, as it made swift preparation to spring upon the couple who had dared to enter its domain at this critical time.

To Jack and Ronie it was a moment not to be forgotten. The first clutched his knife savagely, but what could he hope to do against such a foe with so simple a weapon? In the brief interval between the discovery of the brute and its attack upon them, Ronie's gaze fell upon a thrice-welcome sight. This was nothing less than a short, serviceable-looking firearm, lying scarcely a yard distant from his feet. It was doubtless the property of the man hanging from the pendant tree, and who had somehow dropped it at the outset of his meeting with the jaguar.

He had no time to think of this, or even to question whether the gun was loaded or empty before the dark form of the jaguar shot into the air, and the maddened creature came like a cannon ball toward the twain.

"Jump for your life!" cried Jack, and so closely followed the animal upon his words that, as the couple separated, Ronie springing to the right and he to the left, an outstretched paw of the creature brushed a shoulder of each as it sped past them!

The jaguar had not struck the ground a few feet away, flinging up a cloud of dirt where he landed in a heap, before Ronie had seized the firearm. It was the work of but another instant for him to cock the gun and bring its stock to his shoulder.

As quickly as this was done, the jaguar had as quickly recovered from the effect of its disastrous jump, had wheeled about, and now crouched for a second leap, his maddening rage increased twofold by his recent failure. The muzzle of Ronie's firearm now caught its attention, and our hero was now its object.

So hurriedly had this all taken place that Ronie was still in ignorance as to the condition of his weapon, and knowing that his life hung upon the result, he took hasty aim and pulled the trigger.

A quick, sharp report sent a thrill of joy through his frame, while it was so swiftly followed by a cry of rage that the latter seemed an echo of the first, and then the jaguar again sprang upward and forward, fully ten feet into the air before it descended at Ronie's feet, snarling, twisting, struggling, in an outbreak of fury frightful to behold.

Trembling lest his shot had only served to add to the volcano of ferocity burning in the brute's form, Ronie would have failed to retreat quickly enough to escape its claws had not Jack's ringing voice warned him of his danger. The next moment his companion was beside him.

"You fixed the creature," declared Jack, "but it dies hard. Give it plenty of room, lad, we can afford to."

Then, in silence they watched the dying struggles of the brute, as it beat earth and space with its lacerated body, now groveling in the dust, now bounding upward in blind endeavor to reach an enemy it could not see, each moment growing weaker, until it lay at last quite still, scarcely less terrible to look upon in death than it had been in life.

"Your shot saved us," said Jack, frankly. "It was well done, lad, exceedingly well done, and it alone has saved us from the claws of the jaguar."

CHAPTER IX.
THE MYSTERY OF THE PHOTOGRAPH

"It seemed as if I could not miss, Jack; but I do not care to go through that ordeal again."

"Nor I, Ronie. But now that we are safe, let's look after the chap over our heads. It must be he needs our aid bad enough. I never saw one in just such a predicament."

The hapless man had ceased his outcries, and was trying to find out what had taken place underneath him, and as to what bearing it would have upon his fate. Seeing no other way to reach him, Ronie immediately climbed the tree holding him. His weight, added to that of the other's, caused the sapling to bend so that Jack was soon able to reach the poor fellow by standing under him.

"A little lower, lad, and I shall be able to get him. His feet are caught in the tree's bootjack, but I – there! I have got him free and clear. Look out that the tree doesn't hang you up."

Jack quickly laid the man upon the ground, and began to straighten out his limp limbs.

"Has he fainted?" asked Ronie, quickly joining him by springing from the tree to the earth, leaving the sapling to leap back into its normal position with a force that cut the air like a lash.

"He is overcome by his experience. But he'll soon come out all right, as I do not see that he has been injured more than a few scratches. Looks like a tolerable sort of a fellow for a South American. Got a little of the native blood in him mixed up with the Spanish. He belongs to the common class."

The man was a person of middle age, of slight figure, but wiry build. He presented a somewhat warlike nature by the armament he carried about his body. This consisted of a pair of heavy pistols, a huge knife, and inside his stout jacket a pair Of smaller pistols were to be seen. He also had fastened about his waist by a belt a good stock of cartridges, evidently for the firearm Ronie had picked up. Certainly it had not been for a lack of means of defense that he had fared so roughly in his meeting with the jaguar.

It seemed like a long time to our friends before he opened his eyes and revived enough to seek a sitting posture. Then he rubbed his head, stared stupidly about, and tried to regain his feet, giving expression to his surprise in Spanish. Both Jack and Ronie were able to converse in that language, and Jack at once assured him of his safety at that moment.

He was profuse in his thanks, though somewhat reticent in regard to himself. He had climbed a tree near the sapling, but somehow had lost his footing and fallen into the topmost branches of the latter. Lodging between the branches of this his weight had brought it and him into the positions in which they had been found. The jaguar had come along, and discovering him began at once its attempted attack. That was what Jack and Ronie made out of his disjointed account.

"I do not know what to make of him," said Jack, aside in English. "He is either afraid of us, or he is a rogue. Probably both. I will see if I can find out where we are."

Then, addressing the Venezuelan, he said:

"How far is it to the nearest town?"

"You mean San Carlos, señor?"

"Si, señor," replied Jack, at a hazard.

"Have you friends at San Carlos?" asked the other, without answering the question propounded him.

"I hope so, señor."

This reply seemed to stagger him for a moment, but he managed to recover in a moment, when he said:

"How long have you been in this country, Señor Americanos?"

"Since sunrise," was the reply, which gave the other a second surprise.

"I do not understand, señor."

Thinking nothing could be gained by withholding all of the truth from him, Jack soon explained how they had been lost overboard from a vessel in the gulf, picked up by another, and then left ashore among strangers in a strange land. He did not consider it necessary or advisable to enter into descriptions of the ships they had recently left. If his account aroused at first some suspicion in the mind of the Venezuelan, Jack's honesty of tone quickly dispelled this, and the other said:

"You have been unfortunate, señors. There are many ships upon the sea at this time who do not care to pick up strangers. No doubt the craft was one of Castro's spies. They are looking far and wide for the Libertador, but they cannot find her," he concluded, showing evident pleasure at the thought. Then he asked, as if a new thought had come suddenly to him:

"What do they say of us in the Great Republic?"

"The sympathy of the United States is ever with the down-trodden," replied Jack, cautiously. "But we are not able to say just how our nation looks upon the revolution here, except that it will see fair play, for you must remember it has been nearly a year since we left home."

The other showed his disappointment at this, but soon asked:

"Have you friends in this country?"

"If we were at Caracas we might find them."

At this the man shook his head.

"It would be worth more than your lives to get to Caracas at this time. The 'Sons of Liberty' are looking sharp after the dogs of Castro."

"This man is one of the insurgents," was the thought which came simultaneously to Jack and Ronie. Then the latter asked:

"You said we were near to San Carlos. Is this town held by Castro or by the followers of Matos?"

"You prove yourself a stranger, señor, by your words. San Carlos holds the blackest spot on fair Venezuela, the dungeon that keeps in captive chains the noble El Mocho."

"You mean General Hernandez, señor? I have heard of him. But I thought he was once friendly to Castro."

"So he was, señor, until the tyrant abused the common people, then El Mocho led his gallant followers against Castro, was betrayed by a cowardly dog, and now he lies at San Carlos a captive."

"Do you live near here?"

"Si, señor." Then he added, with a curve of his lips, which gave an ugly-looking smile: "When I am at home. I was going hither when I met with this little adventure, which would have ended the warfare of Manuel Marlin for the freedom of poor Venezuela. If you will come with me the hospitality of my humble home is at your disposal."

"I do not think we can do any better than to go with him," said Jack, aside to Ronie, "providing we keep our eyes and ears open."

Ronie was about to signify his assent, when an object nearly buried in the crumpled foliage and torn up earth where the jaguar had made its stand, caught his attention. It was about the size of an ordinary postal card, and at first glance looked like a piece of cardboard. But Ronie had discovered on the other side a portrait, which prompted him to pick up the photograph, as it proved to be.

It was crumpled and soiled, but hastily brushing as much of the dirt from it as he could, he gazed earnestly at the sweet, womanly face pictured before him. As he gazed the color left his countenance, his hand shook so it threatened to drop the card, while he exclaimed in a husky voice:

"My mother!"

Jack showed almost as much emotion as his young companion, as he stepped quickly beside him, saying:

"Your mother's photograph in this place? How can that be?"

"I do not know, Jack. But it is surely hers. See! It was taken in New York."

"Doubtless Señor Marlin can throw some light upon the matter," declared Jack. "You picked it up almost under where he had been hanging. The photograph fell from one of your pockets, Señor Manuel?" asked Jack, addressing the Venezuelan.

The latter had retreated a few paces, and he showed considerable agitation, while he shook his head, replying in a low tone:

"If it was in my pocket, I did not know it, señors. Some one else must have dropped it here. It would not be strange, as there are many scouts in the forests at this time."

Both Jack and Ronie felt sure that the man was trying to deceive them, but deemed it wise not to let him know it.

"I mistrust the fellow," whispered Jack, aside. "We must keep a close watch upon him. I do not think he understands English, so he does not know what relation the portrait may bear to you. Let's feign indifference in the matter, and keep with him."

So Ronie placed the photograph in one of his pockets without further remarks, though he found it difficult to conceal his emotions. While he was doing this Jack signified to Manuel Marlin that they were anxious to go to his home, or at least to be shown the way out of the forest. Then, with rapid steps, the Venezuelan led the way out of the jungle, not once looking back in his hasty advance. This gave our friends opportunity to exchange thoughts, though they were careful not to say enough to arouse the suspicions of their guide.

"I cannot understand what it means," declared Ronie. "How could mother's picture be brought here, and why?"

As this was a question Jack could not answer, he merely shook his head, adding:

"This fellow, or some of his friends, may have been in New York, and accidentally picked it up. In that case it would not indicate any cause for worriment."

"I cannot help feeling, Jack, that there is some other explanation. I cannot help thinking that in some way it portends trouble to mother. It can do no harm to question this fellow more closely in regard to the matter."

"We will take our chances on that score, though I believe he is a thoroughbred liar."

Then they did question this man as closely as they thought prudent, but without gleaning a single ray of light upon the subject. In fact, he persisted in maintaining an absolute ignorance in regard to it. So finally Ronie was compelled to drop the subject, while he tried in vain to find some plausible explanation of the mystery.

Manuel Marlin showed that he was glad of the sight ahead, when at last they reached the edge of the forest, and found themselves looking at the rim of sandy sea-coast, with the glimmer of water in the distance. The day was very calm, and the bay stretched as smoothly as if formed of plate glass, while overhead the sky had that peculiar flat appearance so common in the tropics.

"Does señors see that dismal building on yonder point of land?" asked their guide, and, without waiting for their reply, went on: "It is the fort of San Carlos, where the 'El Mocho' is chained like a dog!"

"Look yonder!" exclaimed Ronie, "there is a train of men going thither now."

"Looks to me as if they were conducting prisoners to the penitentiary," said Jack. "If my old eyes do not deceive me one of them is an American."

"I am sure you are right, Jack. Let's get a little nearer, so we can see as they pass along."

Their guide showed some hesitation in doing this, though he led the way somewhat circuitously forward, so as to gain a view of the soldiery train without being seen themselves, saying as he did so:

"This is more of the dirty work of Castro's dogs of war."