Tom Swift in the Land of Wonders; Or, The Underground Search for the Idol of Gold

by Victor Appleton

  CHAPTER XIX

  POISONED ARROWS

  "Did you hear that, Tom?" asked Ned, in a hoarse whisper.

  "Surely," was the cautious answer. "Keep still, and I'll try for ashot."

  "Better be quick," advised Ned in a tense voice. "The chap who didthat yelling seems to be in trouble!"

  And as Ned's voice trailed off into a whisper, again came the cry, thistime in frenzied pain.

  "El tigre! El tigre!" Then there was a jumble of words.

  "It's over this way!" and this time Ned shouted, seeing no need for lowvoices since the other was so loud.

  Tom looked to where Ned had parted the bushes alongside a jungle path.Through the opening the young inventor saw, in a little glade, thatwhich caused him to take a firmer grip on his electric rifle, and alsoa firmer grip on his nerves.

  Directly in front of him and Ned, and not more than a hundred yardsaway, was a great tawny and spotted jaguar--the "tigre" or tiger ofCentral America. The beast, with lashing tail, stood over an Indianupon whom it seemed to have sprung from some lair, beating theunfortunate man to the ground. Nor had he fallen scatheless, for therewas blood on the green leaves about him, and it was not the blood ofthe spotted beast.

  "Oh, Tom, can you--can you----" and Ned faltered.

  The young inventor understood the unspoken question.

  "I think I can make a shot of it without hitting the man," he answered,never turning his head. "It's a question, though, if the beast won'tclaw him in the death struggle. It won't last long, however, if theelectric bullet goes to the right place, and I've got to take thechance."

  Cautiously Tom brought his weapon to bear. Quiet as Ned and he hadbeen after the discovery, the jaguar seemed to feel that something waswrong. Intent on his prey, for a time he had stood over it, gloating.Now the brute glanced uneasily from side to side, its tail nervouslytwitching, and it seemed trying to gain, by a sniffing of the air, someinformation as to the direction in which danger lay, for Tom and Nedhad stooped low, concealing themselves by a screen of leaves.

  The Indian, after his first frenzied outburst of fear, now lay quiet,as though fearing to move, moaning in pain.

  Suddenly the jaguar, attracted either by some slight movement on thepart of Ned or Tom, or perhaps by having winded them, turned his headquickly and gazed with cruel eyes straight at the spot where the twoyoung men stood behind the bushes.

  "He's seen us," whispered Ned.

  "Yes," assented Tom. "And it's a perfect shot. Hope I don't miss!"

  It was not like Tom Swift to miss, nor did he on this occasion. Therewas a slight report from the electric rifle--a report not unlike thecrackle of the wireless--and the powerful projectile sped true to itsmark.

  Straight through the throat and chest under the uplifted jaw of thejaguar it went--through heart and lungs. Then with a great coughing,sighing snarl the beast reared up, gave a convulsive leap forwardtoward its newly discovered enemies, and fell dead in a limp heap, justbeyond the native over which it had been crouching before it deliveredthe death stroke, now never to fall.

  "You did it, Tom! You did it!" cried Ned, springing up from where hehad been kneeling to give his chum a better chance to shoot. "You didit, and saved the man's life!" And Ned would have rushed out toward thestill twitching body.

  "Just a minute!" interposed Tom. "Those beasts sometimes have as manylives as a cat. I'll give it one more for luck." Another electricprojectile through the head of the jaguar produced no further effectthan to move the body slightly, and this proved conclusively that therewas no life left. It was safe to approach, which Tom and Ned did.

  Their first thought, after a glance at the jaguar, was for the Indian.It needed but a brief examination to show that he was not badly hurt.The jaguar had leaped on him from a low tree as he passed under it, asthe boys learned afterward, and had crushed the man to earth by theweight of the spotted body more than by a stroke of the paw.

  The American jaguar is not so formidable a beast as the native name oftiger would cause one to suppose, though they are sufficientlydangerous, and this one had rather badly clawed the Indian.Fortunately the scratches were on the fleshy parts of the arms andshoulders, where, though painful, they were not necessarily serious.

  "But if you hadn't shot just when you did, Tom, it would have been allup with him," commented Ned.

  "Oh, well, I guess you'd have hit him if I hadn't," returned the younginventor. "But let's see what we can do for this chap."

  The man sat up wonderingly--hardly able to believe that he had beensaved from the dreaded "tigre." His wounds were bleeding ratherfreely, and as Tom and Ned carried with them a first-aid kit they nowbrought it into use. The wounds were bound up, the man was given waterto drink and then, as he was able to walk, Tom and Ned offered to helphim wherever he wanted to go.

  "Blessed if I can tell whether he's one of our Indians or whether hebelongs to the Beecher crowd," remarked Tom.

  "Senor Beecher," said the Indian, adding, in Spanish, that he lived inthe vicinity and had only lately been engaged by the young professorwho hoped to discover the idol of gold before Tom's scientific friendcould do so.

  Tom and Ned knew a little Spanish, and with that, and simple butexpressive signs on the part of the Indian, they learned his story. Hehad his palm-thatched hut not far from the Beecher camp, in a smallIndian village, and he, with others, had been hired on the arrival ofthe Beecher party to help with the excavations. These, for somereason, were delayed.

  "Delayed because they daren't use the map they stole from us,"commented Ned.

  "Maybe," agreed Tom.

  The Indian, whose name, it developed, was Tal, as nearly as Tom and Nedcould master it, had left camp to go to visit his wife and child in thejungle hut, intending to return to the Beecher camp at night. But ashe passed through the forest the jaguar had dropped on him, bearing himto earth.

  "But you saved my life, Senor," he said to Tom, dropping on one kneeand trying to kiss Tom's hand, which our hero avoided. "And now mylife is yours," added the Indian.

  "Well, you'd better get home with it and take care of it," said Tom."I'll have Professor Bumper come over and dress your scratches in abetter and more careful way. The bandages we put on are onlytemporary."

  "My wife she make a poultice of leaves--they cure me," said the Indian.

  "I guess that will be the best way," observed Ned. "These natives candoctor themselves for some things, better than we can."

  "Well, we'll take him home," suggested Tom. "He might keel over fromloss of blood. Come on," he added to Tal, indicating his object.

  It was not far to the native's hut from the place where the jaguar hadbeen killed, and there Tom and Ned underwent another demonstration ofaffection as soon as those of Tal's immediate family and the othernatives understood what had happened.

  "I hate this business!" complained Tom, after having been knelt to bythe Indian's wife and child, who called him the "preserver" and otherendearing titles of the same kind. "Come on, let's hike back."

  But Indian hospitality, especially after a life has been saved, is notso simple as all that.

  "My life--my house--all that I own is yours," said Tal in deepgratitude. "Take everything," and he waved his hand to indicate allthe possessions in his humble hut.

  "Thanks," answered Tom, "but I guess you need all you have. That's afine specimen of blow gun though," he added, seeing one hanging on thewall. "I wouldn't mind having one like that. If you get well enoughto make me one, Tal, and some arrows to go with it, I'd like it for acuriosity to hang in my room at home."

  "The Senor shall have a dozen," promised the Indian.

  "Look, Ned," went on Tom, pointing to the native weapon. "I never sawone just like this. They use small arrows or darts, tipped with wildcotton, instead of feathers."

  "These the arrows," explained Tal's wife, bringing a bundle from acorner of the one-room hut. As she held them out her husband gave acry of fear.

  "Poisone
d arrows! Poisoned arrows!" he exclaimed. "One scratch and thesenors are dead men. Put them away!"

  In fear the Indian wife prepared to obey, but as she did so Tom Swiftcaught sight of the package and uttered a strange cry.

  "Thundering hoptoads, Ned!" he exclaimed. "The poisoned arrows arewrapped in the piece of oiled silk that was around the professor'smissing map!"