CHAPTER XXII.
THE SIREN OF WAR
Like a fleet manned by sightless sailors the line of boats blundered onthrough the blackness. With no guiding light, the canoes bumped thebanks and collided with one another in perilous confusion. Speed wasimpossible, yet speed was imperative. Knowlton and his little flashlightsolved the problem.
"Say, fellows, let's take the lead," he suggested. "This little lightisn't much, but it's something, and there are some extra batteries in myhaversack when this burns out. We can see a little way ahead, and passback the word to the rest. What say?"
"_Na terra dos cegos quem tem um olho e rei_--in blindman's land he whohas one eye is king," said Pedro. "That little white eye in your box maysave us all. Lourenco, tell those ahead to let us pass."
Without question the preceding dugouts swerved, and the boat of thewhite men slipped by. At the head of the line they found Tucu and hiscrew struggling manfully to make progress without wrecking the wholefleet at the turns. Vast relief and instant acceptance of the newleadership followed Lourenco's explanation. At once the floating columnbegan to pick up speed. And it was well that it did.
Howls of baffled hate came faintly through the tree mass from the RedBone town. Some time later more yells of rage sounded, much nearer--backat a place on the creek which the last boat had cleared only a fewminutes previously. Some of the Umanuh men had made torches and runalong one of the Red Bone trails to a bend in the stream, only to findthe water bare of everything but dying ripples.
Whether the enemy attempted to follow in canoes the escaping party neverknew, for none succeeded in overtaking the rearmost boat. And after thatone snarling uproar on the creek bank they heard no more of the landpursuit. The narrow margin of safety gained by the aid of the flashlightproved enough to give a commanding lead, and from that time on the onlyobstacles to their retreat were those of darkness and winding waters.
Hour after hour Knowlton squatted in the extreme bow, picking out theturns and snags just ahead and passing the word back to Lourenco, who,in the stern, steered in accordance with his orders and relayed thecourse to Tucu, just behind. Amidships, Pedro and McKay plied steadypaddles and the Raposa lay all but forgotten on the baggage. There wereno halts. If any boat back in the blackness got into difficulties itextricated itself as best it could, unaided by the rest, and fell into anew place in the column.
At last a wan light, which was scarcely a light, but rather a lesseningof the density, came about the stream. The renewed racket of birds andbeasts announced that up overhead the sky had paled into dawn. Slowlythe nearest tree trunks began to take shape in the void, and presentlythe shore line became visible to all eyes. At the same time Knowlton'stiny lamp dimmed and faded out.
"Another battery gone," he announced, opening the case and dropping itscontents into the creek. "Ho-yo-ho-hum! Gee! I'm all in! Eyes feel likea couple of burnt holes. Well, gents, I move that at the first availablespot we go ashore, feed our faces, look at the ladies, and perform ourmorning salute to Umanuh--said salute consisting of applying the rightthumb to the end of the nose and snappily twiddling four fingers."
"Motion carried." McKay's set face relaxed. Then, his glance dropping tothe Raposa, it tightened again. "Oh, hullo, Rand! How you feeling?"
The unconscious man was unconscious no longer. Moreover, his expressionwas not that of one just emerging from a stupor and bewildered as to hissurroundings. Though he had made no movement to change his position, hiseyes indicated that he had been awake for some time. They dwelt steadilyon McKay, then strayed past the captain to Pedro, Lourenco, and thefirst Mayoruna crew following a few feet behind. His face wasinscrutable, and he spoke no word.
"You're with friends. Understand? Friends. You're going home. TheseIndians are friends, too. Get that? _Friends!_"
The green eyes hung on McKay's face again; but, as before, no answercame in word, movement, or expression.
"No good, Rod," said Knowlton, who could not see the rescued man's face,but watched McKay's. "'Fraid I knocked his last brains down his throat.Dead from the neck up."
"I don't know about that. He doesn't look vacant. See here, Rand. We'regoing to land and eat! You hungry? Uh-huh. Thought you'd understandthat. He's alive, Merry. Maybe not all here, but enough to get us."
"Good!"
The blond man turned his attention downstream again. Soon he suggested,"How about landing at that little open space down there at the left,Lourenco?"
"Very good, senhor. It looks dry."
The canoe swerved and floated down to a spot on the left shore wherebright light poured down from an opening in the overhead wall offoliage.
"Now look here, Rand," warned the captain. "We'll untie you. But if youtry to duck into the bush, now or later, you get shot. Shot!Understand?"
He tapped his pistol, and the gray eyes boring into the green ones werehard as chilled steel. For the first time Rand responded--a slow, shortnod.
McKay cut the cord around the wild man's ankles, then stepped ashore andheld out a hand. Rand arose quietly, jumped to the earth unassisted,lifted his bad foot and stared at it, then limped onward into a spotwhere the sun now shone bright and warm, and sat down to bask.
"Have to fix that foot, I expect," yawned Knowlton. "But my eyes rightnow are one solid ache, and I'm going to rest them. Watch him, will you,Rod? Can't tell what he might do. Of course you wouldn't shoot him,but--"
"Wouldn't I? Not to kill, no. But if he makes one break I'll drill a legfor him. He's going to the States!"
"Sure. I'm with you all the way. Now beat it and let me repose myself."
He bathed his eyes, then lay down in the canoe with a wet handkerchiefacross them. Pedro and Lourenco already were ashore and raiding theslender packs for food. The Mayorunas were debarking and watching eachnew boat as it drew up, their eyes on the women who had wielded paddleswith them but whose faces they now saw closely for the first time. Inthe shaft of sunlight McKay stood tall and forbidding, rifle in thecrook of one arm, hat pulled low, guarding the gaunt man at his feet andviewing the landing of the expedition.
The women, all young, numbered eleven. Their skins looked slightlypallid, their eyes too big and black, their faces somewhat drawn--theresults of close confinement and anxiety; but none showed any sign ofabuse. For commercial reasons alone, Umanuh had seen to it that thewoman flesh he held for sale should remain uninjured. Now, saved fromthe slave trail or worse, the girls showed no more emotion than if on amere journey after turtles or fish. A few spoke to men whom theyevidently knew. Others gathered in a dumb cluster and awaited whatevermight come next. With these Tucu talked in gruff monosyllables.
When all were ashore, a dozen of the men went into the jungle to hunt.The others sought firewood, inspected weapons, talked with one anotherand with the girls, who stared at McKay and asked who he was. A numberof the warriors looked sourly at Rand, whose face still bore the RedBone tribal streaks which now, to Mayoruna minds, was the insignia ofthe enemy. All knew he was the man who had been sought, all saw that hewas not a Red Bone, but a white man; yet their mental reaction to thesight of the sinister red cross on the forehead and the straight cheeklines was rabidly hostile. McKay, all-seeing, decided to wash Rand'sface for him before journeying much farther. But Rand himself gave nosign that he either knew or cared what the feeling of the Mayorunasmight be. Utterly impassive, he stared back at them.
Then one of the women pointed at him and said something to Tucu. Thetall watchdog's jaw set a little harder as he waited the effect.Somewhat to his surprise, Tucu and a couple of the other men now gaveRand a more friendly look. Soon afterward Tucu passed Lourenco, whotalked with him a few minutes. Catching the Brazilian's eye, the captainmotioned him nearer and asked for any news.
"Tucu says, Capitao, that most of these girls are from _malocas_ otherthan that of Monitaya, though some of Monitaya's women also are here.And one of them says this man, the Raposa, tried to release them a shorttime ago and was nearly killed by the Red Bones for it. They let himli
ve only because he is crazy, and they fear to kill a crazy man."
"What! He tried to get them clear?"
"Yes. He opened the door and motioned for them to run, but before theycould escape they were caught. He was badly beaten. You will rememberthat he was hiding behind that same house when Pedro and Senhor Knowltonsaw him. Perhaps he meant to try again."
"Hm! Crazy and wild, but a white man for all that. How did you manage tofree the women?"
"Very simple," was the cool answer. "We stabbed the guards, opened thedoor, and came back to the creek with the women."
"Just like that, eh? And the guards made no resistance, I suppose."
"Not much," grinned the bushman. "They were not allowed to."
"I see. Very simple, as you say. About as simple as our calm andunhurried departure."
"Something like that, Capitao. What do you desire for breakfast--saltfish and coffee, or coffee and salt fish?"
"A little of everything, thanks. Here comes some monkey meat, too."
The first of the hunters had returned, bringing two big red howlers.Others drifted in at intervals, and not one returned empty handed; forhere in the virgin jungle the game was plentiful, particularly at thisearly hour. Soon the air was heavy with the odor of broiling meat, andfrom the fire of the Brazilians the fragrance of coffee was wafted tothe nostrils of the recumbent Knowlton. He arose, swallowing fast.
"Gee! I'm half drowned!" was his humorous complaint. "The smell of eatsmakes my mouth water so fast I have to gasp for air. Must tickle yournose, too, eh, Rand, old top?"
Rand, famished though he was, gave no sign of assent or of hunger. Infact, he gave no sign of anything. Stoically he sat, eyes front.
"By thunder! the man's got pride!" the lieutenant added, in a lowertone. "Almost ready to keel over from lack of food, but stiff as acigar-store Indian. Darned if I'm not beginning to respect him!"
Tucu approached, carrying two big monkey haunches. One he offered toMcKay, the other to Rand. The latter's immobility vanished in a flash.With a lightning grab he seized the proffered meat and sank his teeth init. As he wolfed down the tough flesh the three men standing overexchanged glances. Tucu laid a hand on his stomach and pressed inward,signifying that the man had long gone hungry. The others nodded. Thenthey split the other haunch between them and fell to gnawing.
Lourenco, bringing coffee to the captain, asked Tucu in what directionthe Monitaya houses lay. Without hesitation the Indian pointed off tothe left. The Brazilian glanced at the creek, estimating its generaldirection and rate of flow, then returned to his fire.
Offered coffee, Rand took it and sipped it with evident relish. Likewisehe accepted a cigarette, which he puffed like a man just learning tosmoke--or one who has not smoked for years. For his meat, his drink, andhis smoke he gave no indication of gratitude. His attitude was asindifferent and matter-of-fact as if he were one of the Mayorunas. Whenhis smoke was ended he began inspecting his bad foot.
"Let's see that," said Knowlton, dropping on one knee. "Looks prettysore. Yes, it's more than sore; it's infected. How'd you get it,anyway?"
No answer. Knowlton probed his face keenly. Rand straightened out hislegs, wriggled his toes, and scowled.
"Queer!" muttered the lieutenant, rising. "He looks as if he actuallydidn't know how he got that wound. You'd think he'd remember that much,anyhow. I sure am afraid his head is all scrambled up."
He went to the canoe, returned with his meager medical kit, and kneltagain.
"Now listen here, Rand. I don't know how well you understand me, but I'mtaking the chance. This foot has to be opened up and cleaned out.Otherwise you're going to have serious trouble with it. I'm going tohurt you. If you raise a row you'll get an anaesthetic--a swift punchunder the ear. Better sit still and make no fuss."
With which he went to work. He did a thorough job, and there was nodoubt that it hurt. But Rand gave no trouble, nor even a sign ofpain--except that he dug his fingers into the dirt.
"Good boy!" the amateur surgeon approved, when he finished. "You're aSpartan--if you happen to remember what that is. Now we'll move on. Butbefore we go, wash your face good and hard. Get that tribe paint off.These Indians with us don't like it. You're no Indian, anyhow; you'rewhite, like us. Savvy? White man. Wash off paint!"
He rolled up his kit and returned to the canoe. The Mayorunas, men andwomen, were entering their own craft. Rand sat motionless a moment,McKay and the Brazilians watching him keenly. Slowly then he got up ofhis own accord, limped to the water's edge, and began to scrub his face.
When he desisted the marks still showed, for the red dye clungstubbornly to his skin; but they were fainter than before. The other meneyed him thoughtfully, none speaking. He settled himself in his formerplace, curled up, and began to doze.
"A queer fish!" Pedro said, softly. "Is he crazy or not?"
"Hanged if I know," replied McKay. "He's no maniac, anyhow. I'd givereal money to know just what his mental condition is. But we can forgethim for a while. I'm going to let you fellows sleep by turns now. I hadsome sleep last night; you've had none at all. Merry, your eyes needrest. You curl up in the bow and snooze one hour. Then another man, andso on. And how about letting Tucu lead the parade again?"
"Excellent, Capitao! I was thinking of that." Lourenco talked to Tucu,who swung out into the current. The boat of the white men followed, thenthe others. At a steady cruising speed the brigade surged on downstream.
Knowlton's allotted hour passed. Pedro took his place and was instantlyasleep. In turn he was aroused, and Lourenco laid down his paddle. Butjust then Tucu's canoe slowed and floated in to the left bank.
The others backed water and looked at a very narrow ravine--almost acleft--in a rising hillside. Through it led a lane of water. From thethird boat, in which were two women of the Monitaya tribe, now camevoices carrying information to the Indian leader. At once he turned hisboat into the cleft.
"This is the connection we have been seeking." Lourenco explained. "Thewomen say the boats of their captors came through this crack in thehill. At the end we shall find the creek of Monitaya."
The women spoke truth. After threading their way along the weedywater-path, which was barely wide enough to give passage for the boats,they emerged at a slant into another stream. Down this, with the sureinstinct for direction of the hereditary jungle-dweller, Tucu turned hisprow without asking the women whether to go with or against the current.Once more on the waters of their home creek, the Mayorunas quickenedtheir strokes and howled merrily on toward their _malocas_.
Lourenco took his nap and resumed his place. Hour after hour the fleetsped on. Noon passed without a halt, the paddlers munching at whateverfragments remained from breakfast. By turns the Americans and Brazilianseach got another hour's sleep, McKay consenting to relax when all hismates had rested. Rand dozed and awoke at intervals, seeming content andcomfortable despite his cramped position.
By four o'clock even the Mayorunas began to lag in their strokes.Excluding the halt at sunrise, they now had been journeying for fifteenhours, in the last nine of which they had covered many miles ofserpentine water. The heat of the day and the constant drive of thepaddles had taken their toll, and now the body of every man fiercelydemanded more food. McKay, knowing that in jungle travel distance is nota matter of miles, but of hours, had begun to figure that the journeywhich had taken nearly five days of overland work might be completedthat night by the swiftly moving canoes. But now, recognizing the signsof exhaustion, he realized that without some powerful spur the Indianswould not attempt to reach the home _malocas_ until the morrow.
Then the spur came. Even as Tucu began scanning the shores for a goodcamp site, he and every other Mayoruna suddenly ceased paddling andthrew up his head. Faint and far, a xylophonic call of beaten woodenbars rapped across the jungle, rising and falling in swift, regularcadence--a sirenical flow and ebb of sound waves. Over and over itundulated, rapid, incessant, imperative.
A chorus of excited grunts broke from the canoe brigad
e. The dugout ofTucu leaped away like a roweled horse. Lourenco and Pedro buried theirpaddles in mighty strokes, hurling their boat ahead to keep from beingrun down by those behind.
Lourenco barked at Tucu, who flung back an answer.
"Paddle hard, Capitao! If we do not keep up we shall be wrecked. Thatmessage is the war call of the Mayorunas--calling in the hunters fromthe forest to take arms against an enemy. We must race now with thesemadmen around us, or we go under. Paddle!"
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