“A revolver, senor? Santa Maria, I know not! I—”
“I’ll find out,” declared Tom determinedly. “Here,” he called to the offending one, who straightened up quickly. “Come here!”
The man came, with all the cringing servility of a born native, and bowed low.
“Why have you a weapon?” asked the young inventor. “I gave orders that none of the drivers were to carry them.”
“A revolver, senor? I have none! I—”
“Rad, reach in his pocket!” cried Tom, and the colored man did so with a promptness that the other could not frustrate. Eradicate held aloft a large calibre, automatic weapon.
“What’s that for?” asked Tom, virtuously angry.
“I—er—I—” and then, with a hopeless shrug of his shoulders the man turned away.
“Give him his gun, and get another driver, San Pedro,” directed our hero, and with another shrug of his shoulders the man accepted the revolver, and walked slowly off. Another driver was not hard to engage, as several had been hanging about, hoping for employment at the last minute, and one was quickly chosen.
“It’s lucky you saw that gun, Ned,” remarked Tom, when they were actually under way again.
“Yes, I saw the sun shining on it as his coat flapped up. What was his game, do you suppose?”
“Oh, he might be what they call a ‘bad half-breed’ down here. I guess maybe he thought he could lord it over the other drivers when we got out in the jungle, and maybe take some of their wages away from them, or have things easier for himself.”
“Bless my wishbone!” exclaimed Mr. Damon. “You don’t think he meant to use it on us, Tom?”
“Why no? What makes you ask that?”
“Oh, I’m just nervous, I guess,” replied the odd man.
But if Mr. Damon could have seen that same half-breed a little later, as he slipped into a Rosario resort, with the yellow stain washed from his face, the nervousness of the eccentric gentleman would have increased. For the man who had been detected with the revolver muttered to himself:
“Caught! Well, I’ll fool ’em next time all right! I thought I could get away with the pack train, and then it would have been easy to turn the natives any way I wished, after I had found what I’m looking for. But I had to go and carry that gun! I never thought they’d spot it. Well, it’s all up now, and if Waydell heard of it he’d want to fire me. But I’ll make good yet. I’ll have to adopt some other disguise, and see if I can’t tag along behind.”
All unconscious of the plotter they had left back of them, Tom and his companions pushed on, rapidly leaving such signs of civilization as were represented by small native towns and villages, and coming nearer to the jungles and forests that lay between them and the place where Tom was destined to be made a captive.
They were far enough away from the tropics to escape the intolerable heat, and yet it was quite warm. In fact the weather was not at all unpleasant, and, once they were started, all enjoyed the novelty of the trip.
Tom planned to keep along the eastern shore of the Parana river, until they reached the junction where the Salado joins it. Then he decided that they would do better to cross the Parana and strike into the big triangle made by that stream and its principal tributary, heading north toward Bolivia.
“For it is in that little-explored part of South America that I think the giants will be found.” said Tom, as he talked it over with Ned and Mr. Damon in the privacy of their tent, which had been set up.
“But why should there be giants there any more than anywhere else?” asked Ned.
“No particular reason,” answered his chum. “But, according to the last word Mr. Preston had from his agent, that was where he was heading for, and that’s where Zacatas, his native helper, said he lost track of his master. I have a theory that the giants, if we find any, will turn out to be a branch of a Patagonian tribe.”
“Patagonians!” exclaimed Ned.
“Yes. You know the natives of the Southern part of Argentina grow to a considerable size. Now Patagonia is a comparatively bleak and cold country. What would prevent some of that big tribe centuries ago, from having migrated to a warmer country, where life was more favorable? After several generations they may have grown to be giants.”
“Bravo!” exclaimed Mr. Damon. “It’s a good theory, at any rate, Tom. Though whether you can ever prove it is a question.”
“Yes, and a big one,” agreed the young inventor with a laugh.
For some days they traveled along over a comparatively flat country, bordering the river. At times they would pass through small native villages, where they would be able to get fresh meat, poultry and other things that varied their bill of fare. Again there would be long, lonely stretches of forest or jungle, through which it was difficult to make their way. And, occasionally they would come to fair-sized towns where their stay was made pleasant.
“I doan’t see any ob dem oranges an’ bananas droppin’ inter mah mouf, Massa Tom,” complained Eradicate one day, after they had been on the march for over a week.
“Have patience, Rad,” advised Tom. “We’ll come to them when we get a little farther into the interior. First we’ll come to the monkeys, and the cocoanut trees.”
“Hones’ Massa Tom?”
“Surely.”
And though it was pretty far south for the nimble simians, the next day they did come upon a drove of them skipping about in the tall palm trees.
“There they are, Rad! There they are!” cried Ned, as the chattering of the monkeys filled the forest.
“By golly! So dey be! Heah’s where I get some cocoanuts!”
Before anyone could stop him, Eradicate caught up a dead branch, and threw it at a monkey. The chattering increased, and almost instantly a shower of cocoanuts came crashing down, narrowly missing some of our friends.
“Hold on, Rad! Hold on!” cried Tom. “Some of us will be hurt!”
Crack! came a cocoanut down on the skull of the colored man.
“Bless my court plaster! Someone’s hurt now!” cried Mr. Damon.
“Hurt? Bless yo’ heart, Massa Damon, it takes mo’ dan dat t’ hurt dish yeah chile!” cried Eradicate with a grin. “Ah got a hard head, Ah has, mighty hard head, an’ de cocoanut ain’t growed dat kin bust it. Thanks, Mistah Monkey, thanks!” and with a laugh Eradicate jumped off his mule, and began gathering up the nuts, while the monkeys fled into the forest.
“Very much good to drink milk,” said San Pedro, as he picked up a half-ripe nut, and showed how to chop off the top with a big knife and drain the slightly acid juice inside. “Very much good for thirst.”
“Let’s try it,” proposed Tom, and they all drank their fill, for there were many cocoanuts, though it was rather an isolated grove of them.
The monkeys became more numerous as they proceeded farther north toward the equator, for it must be remembered that they had landed south of it, and at times the little animals became a positive nuisance.
Several days passed, and they crossed the Parana river and struck into the almost unpenetrated tract of land where Tom hoped to find the giants. As yet none of their escort dreamed of the object of the expedition, and though Tom had caused scouts to be sent back over their trail to learn if they were being followed there was no trace of any one.
One day, after a night camp on the edge of a rather high table land, they started across a fertile plain that was covered with a rich growth of grass.
“Good grazing ground here,” commented Ned.
“Yes,” put in San Pedro. “Plenty much horse here pretty soon.”
“Do the natives graze their herds of horses here?” asked Tom.
“No natives—wild horses,” explained Pedro. “Plenty much, sometimes too many they come. You see, maybe.”
It was nearly noon, and Tom was considering stopping for dinner if they could come to a good watering place, when Ned, who had ridden slightly in advance, came galloping back as fast as his steed would carry him.
> “Look out! Look out!” he cried. “There’s a stampede of ’em, and they’re headed right this way!”
“Stampede of what? Who’s headed this way?” cried Tom. “A lot of monkeys?”
“No, wild horses! Thousands of ’em! Hear ’em coming?”
In the silence that followed Ned’s warning there could be heard a dull, roaring, thundering sound, and the earth seemed to tremble.
“The young senor speaks truth! Wild horses are coming!” cried San Pedro. “Get ready, senors! Have your weapons at hand, and perchance we can turn the stampede aside.”
“The rifles! The electric rifles, Ned—Mr. Damon! We’ve got to stop them, or they’ll trample us to death!” cried Tom.
As he spoke the thundering became louder, and then, looking across the grassy plain, all saw a large troop of wild horses, with flying manes and tails, headed directly toward them!
CHAPTER XI
CAUGHT IN A LIVING ROPE
“Quick! Peg out the mules!” cried San Pedro, after one look at the onrushing horses. “Drive the stakes well down! Tie them fast and then get behind those rocks! Lively!”
He cried his orders to the natives in Spanish, at the same time motioning to Tom and Ned.
“Get off your mules!” he went on. “Peg them out. Peg out the others, and then run for it!”
“Run for it?” repeated Tom, “Do you think I’m going to leave my outfit in the midst of that stampede?” and he waved his hand toward the thundering, galloping wild horses which were coming nearer every moment. “Get out the electric rifles, and we’ll turn that stampede. I’m not going to run.”
“Bless my saddle!” cried Mr. Damon. “This is awful! There must be a thousand of them.”
“Nearer two!” cried Ned, who was struggling to loosen the straps that bound his electric rifle to the side of his mule. Already the pack animals as well as those ridden by the members of the giant-hunting party were showing signs of excitement. They seemed to want to join the stampeding horses.
“Peg our animals out! Peg them out! Make them so they can’t join the others!” yelled San Pedro. “It’s our only chance!”
“I believe he’s right!” cried Mr. Damon. “Tom, if we wait until those maddened brutes are up to us they’ll fairly sweep ours along with them, and there’s no telling where we’ll end up. I think we’d better follow his advice and tie our mules as strongly as we can. Then we can go over there by the rocks, and fire at the wild horses. We may be able to turn them aside.”
“Guess that’s right,” agreed the young inventor after a moment’s thought. “Come on, Ned. Peg out!”
“Peg out! Peg out!” yelled the natives, and then began a lively scene. Pegging stakes were in readiness, and, attached to the bridle of each mule was a strong, rawhide rope for tying to the stake. The pegs were driven deeply into the ground and in a trice the animals were made fast to them, though they snorted, and tried to pull away as they heard the neighing of the stampeding animals and saw them coming on with an irresistible rush.
“Hurry!” begged San Pedro, and hurry Tom, Ned and the others did. Animal after animal was made fast—that is all but one and that bore on its back two rather large but light boxes—the contents of the case which Tom had rescued from the fire in the hold.
“What are you going to do with mule?” asked Ned, as he saw Tom begin to lead the animal away, the others having been pegged out.
“I’m going to take him over to the rocks with me. I’m not going to take any chances on this mule getting away with those things in the boxes. Give me a hand here, and then we’ll see what the electric rifles will do against those horses.”
But the one mule which Tom had elected to take with him seemed to resent being separated from his companions. Bracing his feet well apart, the animal stubbornly refused to move.
“Come on!” yelled Tom, pulling on the leading rope.
“Bless my porous plaster!” cried Mr. Damon. “You’d better hurry, Tom! Those wild horses are almost on us!”
“I’m trying to hurry!” replied the young inventor, “but this mule won’t come. Ned, get behind and shove, will you?”
“Not much! I don’t want to be kicked.”
“Beat him! Strike him! Wait until I get a club!” yelled San Pedro. “Come, Antonia, Selka, Balaka!” he cried, to several of the natives who had already started for the sheltering rocks a short distance away. “Beat the mule for Senor Swift!”
Ned joined Tom at the leading rope, and the two lads tried to pull the animal along. Mr. Damon rushed over to lend his aid, and San Pedro, catching up a long stick, was about to bring it down on the mule’s back. Meanwhile the stampeding animals were rushing nearer.
“Hold on dere, Massa Tom!” suddenly called Eradicate. “Yo’-all done flustered dat mule, dat’s what yo’ done. Yo’-all am too much excited ’bout him. Be calm! Be calm!”
“Calm! With that bunch of wild animals bearing down on us?” shouted Tom. “Let’s see you be calm, Rad. Come on here, you obstinate brute!” he cried, straining on the rope.
“Let me do it, Massa Tom. Let me do it,” suggested the colored man hurrying to the balky beast.
Then, as gently as if he was talking to a nervous child, and totally oblivious to the danger of the approaching horses, Eradicate went up to the mule’s head, rubbed its ears until they pointed naturally once more, murmured something to it, and then, taking the rope from Ned and Tom, Eradicate led the mule along toward the rocks as easily as if there had never been any question about going there.
“For the love of tripe! How did you do it?” asked Tom.
“Bless my peck of oats!” gasped Mr. Damon. “It’s a good thing we had Rad along!”
“All mules am alike,” said the colored man with a grin. “An dish yeah one ain’t much different from mah Boomerang. I guess he’s a sorter cousin.”
“Come on!” yelled San Pedro. “No time to lose. Make for the rocks!”
Tom, Ned and Mr. Damon sprinted then, and there was need to, for the foremost of the galloping horses was not a hundred feet away. Then came Eradicate, leading the mule that had at last consented to hurry. The natives, with San Pedro, were already at the rocks, waiting for the white hunters with the deadly electric rifles.
“If they stampede our mules we’ll be in a pickle!” murmured Ned.
“I guess those ropes will hold unless they bite them through,” remarked Tom.
“Yes, they sure hold,” cried San Pedro, and indeed one had to shout now to be heard above the thundering of the horses. Now the tethered mules were lost to sight in the multitude of the other steeds all about them.
“Come on, Ned!” yelled Tom, as he sighted his rifle. “Pump it into them! We must turn them, or they may come over this way, and if they do it will be all up with us.”
“Shoot to kill?” asked Ned, as he drew back the firing lever of his electric rifle.
“No, only a stunning charge. Those horses are valuable, and there’s no use killing them. All we want to do is to turn them aside.”
“That’s right,” agreed Mr. Damon, forgetting in the excitement of the moment to bless himself or anything. “We’ll only stun them.”
The rifles were quickly adjusted to send out a comparatively weak charge of electricity, and then they were trained on the dense mass of horses, while the three marksmen began working the firing levers.
At first, though horse after horse fell to the ground, stunned, there was no appreciable effect on the thousands in the drove. The poor mules were hidden from sight, though by reason of divisions in the living stream of animals it could still be told where they were tethered, and where the horses separated to go past them. Fortunately the ropes and pegs held.
“Fire faster!” cried Tom. “Shoot across the front of them, and try to turn them to one side.”
From the rocks, behind which the natives and our friends crouched, there came a steady stream of electric fire. Horse after horse went down, stunned but not badly hurt, and in a few h
ours the beasts would feel no ill effects. The firing was redoubled, and then there came a break in the steady stream of horseflesh.
Some hesitated and sought to turn back. Others, behind, pressed them on, and then, as if in fear at the unknown and unseen power that was laying low animal after animal, the great body, of horses, suddenly turned at right angles to their course and broke away. There were now two bodies of the wild runaways, those that had passed the tethered mules, and those that had swung off. The stampede had been broken.
“That’s the stuff!” cried Tom, jumping up from behind the rocks, and swinging his hat. “We’ve turned them.”
“And just in time, too,” added Ned, as he joined his chum. Then all the others leaped up, and the sight of the human beings completed the scare. The stampeding animals swung off more than before, so that they were nearly doubling back on their own trail. The others thundered off, and the ground was strewn with unconscious though unharmed animals.
“One mule gone!” cried San Pedro, hastily counting the still tethered animals which were wildly tugging at their ropes.
“Never mind,” spoke Tom, “it’s the one with some of that damaged bartering stuff I intended for trading. We can afford to lose that. Rad, is your animal all right?”
“He suah am, Massa Tom. Dish yeah mule am almost as sensible as Boomerang, ain’t yo’?” and Eradicate patted the big animal he was leading.
“I’ll send a man down the trail, and maybe he can pick up the missing one,” said San Pedro, and while the other natives were quieting the restless mules, one tall black man hastened in the wake of the retreating horses.
He came back in an hour with the missing animal, that had broken its tether rope and then, after running along with the wild horses had evidently dropped out of the drove. Aside from the loss of a small box, there had been no damage done, and the cavalcade was soon under way once more, leaving the motionless horses to recover from the effects of the electricity.
“Bless my saddle pad!” cried Mr. Damon. “I don’t think I want to go through anything like that again.”
“Neither do I,” agreed Tom. “We are well out of it.”
“How much you take for one of them rifles?” asked San Pedro admiringly.
The Tom Swift Megapack Page 158
