CHAPTER TWENTY.
ANOTHER FLIGHT.
Early the next day we arrived at Senhor Pimento's farm. The turtleswere turned into a large tank near the house, staked round so as toprevent the creatures from getting out. Here they would live for manymonths. Most of the Brazilian, as well as many of the natives' houses,have similar reservoirs attached to them, in which turtle are keptalive, to be taken out as required for use.
We found our two sisters seated by the bank of the lake, and little Oriawith them. They seemed somewhat agitated. Oria had been out theprevious day, they told me, in the forest to gather fruit, and hadunwisely wandered on, without waiting for Duppo, who was to follow her.Unaccustomed to that part of the country, she had lost her way. Asevening approached, she found an Indian hut, when, the rain coming down,she crept into it for shelter. No one was there. She had thrown a matover her, and had dropped off to sleep, when she was awakened by hearingseveral persons talking. Although their dialect was very different fromher own, she could understand them. As she listened she became more andmore interested. They were speaking of a plot to surprise the whites,and put them to death, so that not a Portuguese should remain in thecountry. This plan, Oria understood, was very soon to be carried intoexecution. Fanny and Ellen cross-questioned Oria, and seemed satisfiedthat they clearly understood her. They then begged me to go and callour father, that we might have his opinion before alarming our host andhostess. I fortunately found him near the spot. He came to theconclusion that Oria's opinion was to be relied on, and at oncedetermined to warn Senhor Pimento.
Soon afterwards I met Duppo. He drew me aside, with a mysterious look.He, too, evidently had something which he wished to communicate. He invain, however, tried to find words to explain himself. Just then wecaught sight of the daughters of our host in the distance. He shook hishead at them, and then made signs that no good could come from livingwith a family who could play with poisonous snakes with impunity; andthen pointed to the canoe, and urged us to go away from so dangerous aneighbourhood. I felt sure, however, that he had some other reason,which he was afraid to communicate. I told him so, and I asked him ifhe did not believe that the natives in the neighbourhood were about toattack the plantation. He looked surprised, evidently not being awarethat Oria had already warned my sisters. At last he confessed that suchwas the case, and implored me earnestly to induce my family to fly. Onthis I went in search of John, who had talked of going out to shoot. Ipersuaded him, though not without difficulty, to remain at home, andcome and consult with our father. He had, in the meantime, found SenhorPimento.
"I am afraid that I shall be unable to persuade our Portuguese friend totake precautions against an attack of the natives. He declares thatthey have always been on good terms with him, and he sees no reason tobe alarmed," he observed.
"What, then, do you mean to do, father?" I asked.
"To take the wisest course," he answered. "I have directed Domingos andAntonio to get the montarias ready, and to ascertain the feeling of theTucuna Indians who came with you. They are, however, anxious to returnhomewards; and I have promised them one of the canoes, and additionalpayment, if they will accompany us in our flight to a place of safety.There is an uninhabited island some way down the river, where, I hope,we may remain concealed, should what we apprehend take place. As delaymay be dangerous, I have told Senhor Pimento that I purpose startingthis evening; and I have urged him to have his own montarias ready, andmanned by negroes in whom he can place confidence. I shall be very gladif I can, at all events, induce him to take this precaution, so that,should he see any likelihood of his being attacked, he may, at allevents, get on board, and save the lives of his family and himself. Wewill, as soon as the canoes are ready, carry our own property down tothem. But we must take care that we are not observed by the natives,who might attempt to stop us, or watch the direction we take. Yourmother and sisters are engaged in packing up, and I hope that soon allwill be ready."
Though Senhor Pimento appeared to be incredulous as to the sinisterintentions of the natives, I thought that possibly Pedro might beinduced to believe them. I therefore went in search of him. I told himwhat we had heard.
"It may be," he answered. "I have had many black looks of late fromthose who used at one time to be ready to kiss my feet. I am,therefore, inclined to agree with you that some mischief is intended. Iwill try and persuade my father to act prudently; but he has been solong accustomed to look down upon the natives, it will be difficult topersuade him that they will dare to injure a white skin. I think yourfather is very right to escape from hence, though we shall be sorry topart from you."
I thanked Pedro for his kind feelings, and urged him to try and inducehis father to act with caution. As all the natives on the estate wereabsent gathering caoutchouc, our operations were conducted with lessdifficulty than would otherwise have been the case. Our own Indians hadfortunately remained behind. It was settled that two should go in ourcanoe. John should act as captain of our father's, and Domingos ofours. Our goods were quickly conveyed on board. We found that SenhorPimento had sent a supply of farinha, as well as several turtles andother provisions, on board each of them, as a mark, he said, of hisgood-will.
We bade him and Senhora Josefa and their two daughters farewell. Pedroaccompanied us down to the canoe.
"Do not fear," he said, "about us. I suspect we shall soon be followingyou. But should nothing happen to us, forget not those who held you inaffectionate esteem."
I am, of course, only translating his words.
The canoes shoved off, and working our paddles, we glided across thelake. It was nearly dark before we reached the entrance to the igarapedown which we were to proceed. It was a perfect calm. The tall treeswere reflected in the mirror-like expanse of the lake, sprinkled, as itwere, with the myriads of stars which shone forth from the clear sky.Here and there a night-bird darted from its covert in search of itsinsect prey. The tree-crickets had begun to utter their evening notes,and from far and near came forth from the forest the numberless soundswhich often to the solitary traveller make the night hideous.
"Oh, what can that be?" we heard Ellen exclaim from the other canoe."See! see!"
We looked astern, towards the plantation we had left. Bright flameswere darting up from among the buildings very instant growing higher,while dreadful cries, coming across the water, struck our ears.
"Oh, I am afraid our friends have delayed too long to escape," exclaimedArthur. "Could we not go back to help them?"
I asked our father if he would allow us to do so.
He hesitated. "They have their montarias; and should they have beenattacked, you can render them no assistance."
Still, I did not like the thought of deserting our friends, andpromised, should we not meet with them, to return at once. At last heconsented to our going; and turning the head of our canoe, we paddledback towards the shore we had left. We had nearly reached it, when wesaw a boat approaching. It might have our friends on board, or might bemanned by natives. We approached cautiously, ready to turn round at amoment's notice.
"Who goes there?" I asked.
I was greatly relieved by hearing Senhor Pimento's voice.
"Turn round!" he exclaimed. "Fly! fly! I fear we may soon be pursued.We are all on board. I wish we had followed your advice."
Back we paddled, as fast as we could urge our canoe through the water.Meantime the whole plantation appeared in a blaze--not only thebuildings, but the fields and groves of fruit-trees seemed to have beenset on fire. We made for the mouth of the igarape, where we found ourfather's canoe waiting for us. Away we all went together. The criesand shouts of the Indians, as they searched about for the proprietor,reached our ears. We had too much reason to believe that we should befollowed. There was sufficient light to enable us to keep in the centreof the water-path. We anxiously looked astern, expecting every momentto see the canoes of our enemies in our wake. In some places theigarape was so narro
w, and the trees so completely joined overhead, thatwe could with difficulty discover our way, and were compelled to paddleat less speed to avoid running among the bushes at its borders. Andnow, from every side, those sounds which I have so often mentioned burstforth from the forest; yet, though so frequently before heard, theireffect was wonderfully depressing. Sometimes, indeed, they sounded soexactly like the cries of natives, that we felt sure we were pursued,and expected every moment to discover our enemies close astern of us.
We continued our night voyage, paddling as fast as we could venture tomove through the darkness. Now and then the light penetrated into thecentre of the igarape, and allowed us to move faster. Ever and anonflights of magnificent fireflies flitted across the igarape, revealingthe foliage on either side, amid which sometimes it seemed as ifgigantic figures were stalking about, to seize us as we passed. Theywere, however, only the stems of decayed trees, or distorted branchesbending over the waters.
Thus we went on, hour after hour, not venturing to stop even to rest theweary arms of the paddlers; for we had received too clear a warning ofwhat would be our fate should we fall into the power of the hithertosubmissive, but now savage and vindictive natives. It was no slightcause probably which had induced them to revolt. The cruelty andtyranny, the exactions and treachery of the white man had at lengthraised their phlegmatic natures, and they were about to exact a bitterrevenge for long years of oppression and wrong. As in many similarinstances, the innocent were doomed to suffer with the guilty; and asfar as we had been able to judge, our friend Senhor Pimento had treatedthose around him with all kindness and consideration.
At length a pale light appeared ahead; and emerging from the dark shadesof the igarape, we entered the wide expanse of the Amazon, across whichat that instant the moon, rising above the line of forest, cast thesilvery light of her bright beams. My sisters, and even the Braziliangirls, uttered exclamations of admiration. We made our way across thelake-like expanse, which was now just rippled with a light breeze; andafter an hour's progress, found ourselves approaching a lofty wall offorest. Coasting along it, we entered a narrow channel similar to theone we had quitted. Here and there the moonbeams, penetrating amid thebranches, enabled us to find our way till we reached an open spot on theshores of a small lake.
"Here," said our father, "is the place I have selected for our retreat;and as the Indians will believe that we have continued down the stream,there is little probability, I think, of their coming here to search forus. If they do, we may escape through the opposite side, and take oneof several channels which will again conduct us into the main stream."
There was sufficient light to enable us to erect rude huts for theaccommodation of the ladies of the party. As there was no fear of theglare of the fires shining through the forest, and thus betraying ourposition, we could venture to light a sufficient number for theprotection of the camp against wild beasts.
The next morning found us quietly settled in our new location. Myfather and mother did their best to comfort Senhor Pimento and hisfamily for the loss of their property.
"Think how much worse it would have been," said my father, "had you, andyour wife, and daughters, and son been deprived of your lives! Weshould be thankful for the blessings we receive."
"See, it is true--it is true," answered our Portuguese friend. "But--"
"Oh, utter not any `buts,'" observed my father. "`But' is an ungratefulword. It should be discharged from human language."
Ellen had saved all her pets, even her humming-bird; and she and Fanny,with the assistance of their Brazilian friends, had plenty of occupationin arranging accommodation for them.
My father was anxious to have a larger vessel built, fit to navigate thelower part of the river, over whose sea-like expanse strong windsoccasionally blow, which our smaller canoes were but ill-calculated toencounter. The first thing, however, to be done, was to erect huts, inwhich the party might live till the vessel could be got ready, or tillthey received information that the voyage could be accomplished withoutrisk of being attacked by the rebels.
"I have been thinking, Harry," said Arthur, "that if Houlston and Nyassshould come down, and make for Senhor Pimento's farm, would there not bea great risk of their falling into the hands of the rebels, and beingkilled?"
"Indeed there would," I answered. "I did not think of that. I wish wecould send and stop them."
"Would it not be better to go ourselves?" asked Arthur.
"Indeed it would," I exclaimed. "We will see what my father says toit."
I told John, who agreed with me; and we at once determined to proceed upthe stream with our Tucuna Indians. We promised them that on findingour friends they should have our canoe in which to perform theirhomeward voyage. They seemed perfectly satisfied, and we congratulatedourselves on the arrangement we had made. As there might not be room toreturn in their canoe, John, Arthur, and I determined to go alone. Wewould not even take Duppo, as he could do little, compared with theother Indians, in working our vessel. Fanny and Ellen were very unhappyat the thoughts of our going. We begged them to look after Duppo, andto give him his lessons in English till we should return.
We started early in the morning, paddling vigorously up the stream,which we found a very different thing to going down with it. At firstwe kept along the shore, opposite Senhor Pimento's sitio, and thencrossed over, that we might have a better chance of seeing our friends,should they be coming down. For some time, when the wind was fair, werigged a sail, and were thus able to run up with ease against thecurrent. At night we always chose a spot where we could command a viewof the river, which had so much fallen by this time that we hoped ourfriends would keep in it instead of branching off among the channels atthe side.
For several days we continued our voyage, till we began to fear thatsome accident might have happened, or that, not hearing of us, theymight have pushed onwards, with the intention of sailing up the Napo.Sometimes we slept under the awning in the montaria; sometimes we builthuts, according to our usual custom, on the shore.
One morning, just as we were embarking, John shot a fine paca, which wetook on board, and agreed we would roast during our noon-day meal, whenour Indians generally lay down to sleep. At the hour we intended, wefound a bank, which afforded us a tempting resting-place. Arthur and Iagreed to act as cooks; while John, who had been up before daybreak withhis gun in the forest, said he would rest till dinner was ready. Thechief Indian, Tono, meantime took his blow-pipe and bow, saying he wouldgo into the forest and shoot some more game for supper, our stock havingbecome somewhat scanty; while his companions lay down to sleep in thecanoe. John lay down on the grass, away from the fire, though nearenough for the smoke to keep the flies at a distance. We had the pacascientifically trussed and spitted, and placed over the fire on twoforked sticks. Sometime! Arthur, sometimes I turned the spit. It wasmy turn to attend to it, and Arthur was sitting near me, when I felt theground shake, as if some large object had pitched down on it at my side;and what was my horror, on turning my head, to see Arthur, in the clawsof an enormous puma, being dragged over the ground. We had imprudentlyleft our guns in the montaria. At the same time John awoke, and quicklysprang into the canoe. I felt for my knife--the only weapon Ipossessed--when I found that I had left it on the other side of thefire, where John had been lying. As I turned my head for an instant,intending to seize it, I saw another puma stealthily approaching.Arthur did not cry out, but lay with his face on the ground, the betterto avoid the stroke of the puma's paw. Horror kept me from moving. Thesavage beast was dragging Arthur away. Despair seized me. His deathseemed inevitable. All passed in a moment. Then I saw John standing upin the montaria, with his rifle pointed at the puma's head. My tongueclove to my mouth. I could not shout out to awake the Indians. Thesecond puma was drawing near. I might be its victim. Just then John'srifle echoed through the forest: the puma which had seized Arthur sprangup in the air, and then down it fell, its claws only a few inches fromArthur's bo
dy. I now rushed up to him, and dragged him out of the wayof its dying struggles, calling to John to look after the other puma.The Indians had now started to their feet, uttering loud shrieks. Thepuma stopped just as I fancied it was about to spring at me, and turninground, bounded into the forest. They then, running up to where the pumalay, quickly despatched it with their spears; while John and I lifted upArthur and carried him to the side of the fire. He was insensible, butgroaned heavily. His arm and shoulder were fearfully torn, while hishead had received a blow, though comparatively a slight one, or it wouldinevitably have killed him.
"O John, do you think he will recover?" I exclaimed, as we examined hishurts.
"If we knew how to treat him, he might," answered John; "but I am a verybad doctor, and I am afraid our Indians are not better ones."
"Then, John, we must go back to the island," I exclaimed; "it would beimpossible to continue our voyage with Arthur in this state; and thoughwe have been many days coming up, we may hope to get back again in twoor three."
John agreed with me, and we explained our intentions to the Indianboatmen. They looked very dissatisfied, especially Tono, who just thenreturned from his shooting excursion. I had not from the first likedhis countenance, and I saw by his gestures that he was endeavouring toincite his companions to disregard our orders.
Though on their side they mustered four stout, athletic fellows, yetJohn and I had our rifles, and we agreed, for Arthur's sake, to makethem do as we thought best. John at once reloaded his rifle; and assoon as he had done so, he told me to hurry down to the boat and seizemine. I got hold of it before the Indians were aware of my intention,and quickly rejoined him. Our first care was to wash and dress Arthur'swounds as well as we could. John covered me with his rifle, while Iwent down to get the water.
"Now, Harry," he said, "as we do not know when we shall be able to dressanother paca, we had better make a good dinner off the portion which hasescaped burning during the time you were unable to turn the spit."
Having finished our meal, and secured a portion for Arthur--in the hopehe might recover sufficiently to eat it--we handed the rest to our crew.They took it sulkily enough, and returned with it to the montaria.
"We must keep a sharp look-out on these fellows; for, depend upon it,they intend to play us a trick," observed John.
Our chief difficulty was now how to get Arthur into the montaria; forwhile we were occupied in so doing, they might suddenly attack us.
"You must guard me, Harry, while I lift him up. He is a good weight,but still I can carry him as far as the montaria," observed John.
He did so; while I walked by his side, with my rifle ready for action.When the Indians saw how much Arthur was hurt, they appeared to feelcompassion for him, and expressed their sorrow by signs. When weordered them to shove off, they obeyed at once, and willingly paddled ondown the river again.
"I really think, after all, we must have been mistaken in our opinion ofthose men," said John. "I never like to think harm of ourfellow-creatures. Perhaps, after all, they did not understand us."
I was not quite so certain of this. A strong breeze came up the river,and prevented us making as much progress as we had expected. As eveningdrew on it increased greatly, and signs of a storm appeared in the sky.We were over on the southern shore, and had passed an island near themainland similar to the one on which our family had lately taken refuge.Just then the tempest burst on us. I had observed an opening in theforest, apparently the mouth of a channel, and towards it we nowsteered. It was not without difficulty, however, that we could keep thecanoe before the fast rising seas. Had we fallen into the trough, weshould instantly have been upset.
The Indians seemed well aware of our danger, and paddled steadily. Iwas thankful when at length we found ourselves is calm water, though thewind still whistled and howled through the trees, which bent their tallboughs over our heads, as if they would come down and crush our bark.We paddled on, therefore, for some distance, till we reached a shelteredspot, where we agreed to land and build a hut, that Arthur might sleepmore comfortably than he could in the canoe.
When we told the Indians what we wanted, they immediately set to work,with apparent good-will; and in a short time had erected a neat andcomfortable hut, with a bed-place of bamboos. On this, having spreadseveral mats brought from the canoe, we placed Arthur.
"Oh, how kind you are," he whispered.
I was rejoiced to hear him speak.
"I know all about it," he added; "I saw the puma, but had not time tocry out."
The Indians had consumed the remainder of the paca; and as there wasstill an hour or more of daylight, they proposed going out to catch somefish. I thought of accompanying them, but I did not like to leaveArthur. John then said he would go; but when he got down to the water,the Indians had already shoved off.
"I dare say I may find some game in the woods, and that may be betterfor Arthur than fish," he observed, coming back.
We saw the canoe at a little distance, the Indians standing ready, somewith their harpoons and others with their bows, to strike any fish whichmight be passing. Now they came nearer to us, and I saw they had struckseveral fish. With these they returned to the shore, and called to meto come and receive them. Tono then made signs that he would go and getsome more, and again they paddled off. I became quite vexed at havingentertained unjust suspicions of them. After they had got to a littledistance, I saw them strike another fish--evidently a large one, by thetime they took to haul it in. Now they went further and further off.At length I lost sight of them.
John had in the meantime gone into the woods with his gun. He returned,just as it was growing dusk, with a couple of birds, which heimmediately plucked and prepared for roasting at the fire which I hadmade up. Our pot for boiling fish had been left in the canoe. Wecould, therefore, only roast a portion of those just caught by theIndians.
"They ought to be back by this time," observed John, as the shades ofnight fell over the river.
"The fish seemed to be plentiful, and probably they have been tempted togo further off than they proposed," I observed.
Still we waited and waited, and they did not return. John went a littleway along the bank, and shouted loudly; but no answer came to his hail.At length we hung up our hammocks; and having attended to Arthur, addedfuel to our fire, and placed True at the entrance of our hut to watch,we lay down to rest. Still, neither John nor I felt much inclined tosleep.
"I am afraid that Tono and his people, after all, have gone off in thecanoe," I said at last.
"I suspect so too," he answered; "but yet they were behaving so well,that I did not think they would play us so treacherous a trick."
"We shall soon see, however. I cannot help expecting to hear themreturn every moment."
We waited and waited, anxiety keeping us awake. Several times I got upto give Arthur a little water, which was all he appeared inclined totake. He was much less feverish than I expected. Towards morning,however, he began to ramble in his speech, and talked about his motherand father, and a young sister who had died. "I thought I should findhim," I heard him say. "Oh, that my mother could have lived to haveseen him again! Oh, that I could once more be with him! If he werehere now, I am sure that I should soon get well." These words were saidat intervals, between other less coherent remarks.
Daylight broke before I had closed my eyes. We again looked out, in thefaint hope that the Indians might have landed at some spot near us, andencamped for the night; but we could nowhere see them. We were atlength convinced that they had made off with our canoe, and deserted us.Had we been by ourselves, our position would have been bad enough; butwith poor Arthur in his wounded state, requiring immediate help, it wasstill worse. The Indians had so long behaved well and faithfully, thatwe had not supposed them capable of such conduct, although they hadshowed such discontent on the previous day.
"What must we do?" I asked of John.
"We must either build a canoe or a raft,
or wait till we can hail somepassing craft, and get taken off," he answered. "Our father willcertainly send and look for us by-and-by, when he finds that we do notreturn; but in the meantime they will all be very anxious, and thinkthat we have been cut off by the rebels."
John and I had fortunately brought our guns and ammunition; so that wewere better off than we might have been had the Indians overpowered us,and put us on shore by force. We were, indeed, able to supply ourselvesamply with food, but it was not well suited for Arthur. By the end ofthe day he appeared to have grown worse instead of better. I sat upwith him part of the night, forgetting how little sleep I had had forsome time. He rambled more than ever. It was painful sometimes to hearhim. When he at last dropped to sleep, I began to doze also, till Islipped off my seat, and lay utterly overcome with fatigue on theground. It was daylight, and I found John lifting me up. I had neverseen him look so anxious.
"I thought you had swooned, Harry," he said; "and poor Arthur seems nobetter. What can we do for him?"
I looked at Arthur. He was in a troubled sleep, was very pale, anduttering incoherent expressions. I would have given anything to haveknown what to do; but except moistening his lips with water, there wasnothing I could think of likely to benefit him. All day long heremained in that state. I sat by his side, while John occasionally wentout with his gun. He was never long absent, as he said he could notbear the thought of being away from Arthur, fearing he might be worse.Now and then I got up and added fresh fuel to our fire, that I mightmake some broth with some of the game John had brought in; thinking thatmight possibly do good to my poor patient. I was thus employed, when Iheard John shout out. Taking a glance at Arthur, I ran forward, when Icaught sight of John near the bank, waving his hat, while just beyondhim was a montaria, with a number of people in her, among whom Idistinguished the tall figure of the recluse standing up and waving inreturn. The canoe approached the bank just as I reached it; anddirectly afterwards two other persons jumped up and waved to us, while adog put his paws on the gunwale and uttered a loud bark. True, who hadfollowed me, barked in return. What was my joy to recognise my two oldschool-fellows Houlston and Tony. In a couple of minutes they were onshore, and we were warmly shaking hands; while True and Faithful wererubbing noses with equal cordiality.
"Where is my boy?" exclaimed the recluse--or rather Mr Mallet, for so Ishould properly call him.
"He is with us. He has been sadly hurt. If any one can do him good, Iam sure you can, sir," I said.
"Oh, take me to him--show me where he is!" exclaimed Mr Mallet, in ananxious tone. "Hand me out that box there! It contains the fewmedicines I possess--it may be of use."
"Is it Arthur Mallet he is speaking of?" asked Houlston, following withthe chest. "What is the matter with him?"
I told him briefly what had occurred. There were several other personsin the canoe, but I was too much interested in my friends to observethem. We hurried back to the hut where Arthur was lying. The reclusehad hastened on before us, and was now kneeling by the side of his youngson. He was perfectly calm, but I saw how much he felt, by theexpression of his anxious countenance. Arthur opened his eyes andrecognised his father.
"This is what I was praying for," he whispered. "I have been very ill,and was afraid of leaving the world without once again seeing you. I amso thankful. If it is God's will, I am now ready to die."
"Oh, but I pray it may not be his will, my boy," said Mr Mallet. "Youmust live for my sake, to be a comfort and support to me."
"You will not go back, then, and live in the woods by yourself, my dearfather?" said Arthur.
"No; I hope to live wherever you do, my boy," he answered.
Arthur's pale countenance brightened, and he pressed his father's hand.
"You must not talk, however, Arthur," said Mr Mallet. "You requirerest, and I may find some remedies which may benefit you."
He eagerly looked over the contents of his medicine-chest; and desiringto have some fresh-water brought him, he quickly compounded a draught,which he gave to Arthur. We left the father and son together, while wereturned to the canoe. On our way Houlston and Tony recounted to mebriefly what had occurred. They had made their way nearly up to themouth of the Napo, when, not finding us, they had determined to visitevery spot on the shore where we were likely to have stopped. They hadat length put into the creek, near the abode of the recluse.
"Much to our surprise," said Houlston, "we were accosted in English by atall white man. On telling him our errand, he informed us that you hadlong since gone down the stream, and seemed very much surprised andgrieved to find that we had not encountered you. He at once volunteeredto accompany us, saying that he was greatly interested in your welfare,and could not rest satisfied without assisting in our search for you.We were, of course, very glad to have his company; and going back to hishut, he soon returned with two Indians--a man and his wife--who alsowished to come with us. They are there," and Houlston pointed to thecanoe.
Just then one of the Indians landed; and though dressed in a shirt andtrousers, I recognised him as our friend Maono. He was followed byIllora, also habited in more civilised costume than when we had at firstseen her. They greeted me kindly, and inquired, with more warmth thanIndians generally exhibit, for their son and daughter. I assured themof their welfare, and of the esteem in which they were held by myfamily. They appeared to be gratified, and then inquired for theIndians who had accompanied us. Maono was excessively indignant when wetold him of the trick they had played us, and threatened to put them todeath when he got back to his people. We entreated him, however, forour sakes, not to punish them so severely; indeed, we told him we wouldrather he pardoned them altogether, as they had been influenced by adesire to return to their people, and perhaps supposed that we mightprevent them from so doing. They had till that moment been faithful andobedient, and we assured him that we had had no cause to complain ofthem.
Some time was spent in talking to Tony and Houlston. On our return tothe hut we found Mr Mallet standing in front of it. He said Arthur wasimproving, but begged that we would remain where we were, as he wasunwilling to move him at present. We of course willingly agreed to dowhat he wished, and forthwith set to work to put up huts for the time wemight have to remain on the island. We gave up our hut to Mr Malletand Arthur, and made a large fire in front of it, while we had another,at which we cooked our suppers. Not for a moment, I believe, did therecluse close his eyes during that night, though most of our party sleptsoundly. Whenever I awoke I saw him moving to and fro. Once I couldnot help getting out of my hammock and asking him whether Arthur wasimproving. "I trust he may be," was the answer. "I shall knowto-morrow."
In the morning Arthur certainly appeared better, his wounds having beendressed by the skilful hands of his father. Arthur's state, however,was still too precarious to allow of his removal without risk. Anxiousas we were to get back to our friends, we remained, therefore, threedays longer on the island. Occasionally John, Houlston, Tony, and Imade excursions to the mainland, finding it inhabited, to shoot; whileMaono and Illora were very successful in their fishing expeditions.
"Oh, I wish Arthur was well!" exclaimed Tony. "This is just the sort offun we were looking forward to; and I say, Harry, I hope it is only thebeginning of our adventures. Our employers, I know, will very gladlysend us up the river to purchase produce, and I dare say you can makearrangements to come with us."
I of course said I should be very glad to do so, though I could not thensay what my father intended to do after reaching Para.
We shot a good deal of game--quadruped, four-handed, and feathered.Among the latter, by-the-by, was a curious bird, which we found feedingon the marshy banks of a lake, to which we made our way, attracted byits loud and peculiar cry. Creeping on, we caught sight of it as itstood on the shore. Houlston, who first saw it, declared that it was alarge crane. It was about the size of a swan, and getting nearer, I sawthat it had an extraordinary horn on the top of i
ts head, surrounded byblack and white feathers, while the upper part of its wings had twosharp horns projecting from them--formidable weapons of attack ordefence. Houlston fired, but missed. He had not improved as asportsman since we parted. John at that moment came up, and sent a ballinto the bird's neck. On this True and Faithful dashed forward, butstill the bird, though unable to run, showed fight with its wings andkept them at bay. It soon, however, sunk down lifeless on the ground.Its plumage was very handsome. The head and neck were of agreenish-brown colour, covered with soft feathers. The breast andthighs were of silvery white, and the back was black, with the exceptionof the upper part, which was brown, with yellow spots. It was, wefound, the anhima of the Brazils, known also as the horned kamichi, or,more learnedly, _Palamedea_. It is sometimes called the hornedscreamer, from its loud and wild cry. We laughingly told Houlston that,as he had missed it, he should have the honour of carrying it; which hevery good-naturedly did, though it was a considerable load to bearthrough the forest.
On the Banks of the Amazon Page 20
