01 Amazon Adventure

by Willard Price

Hal did not choose to worry his brother by telling him what he had seen. In five minutes Roger was asleep again. But Hal kept watch the rest of the night.

  In the morning he found the tracks. Each footprint was as big as a soup plate. It was almost perfectly round. The spaces between the toes were even and there was no sign of claws— the jaguar keeps them drawn well back as he walks.

  There was nothing about the print to suggest that it had been made by a savage beast. It was as soft and smooth as if someone had pressed a velvet pad into the dirt. Hal remarked about this to Aqua.

  The tigre’s paw is soft,’ Aqua said, ‘but strong!

  Just one blow from it will kill an ox.’

  With Aqua’s help, Hal and Roger followed the trail back into the jungle. They came at last to the spot where the struggle between the tapir and tiger had evidently taken place. The grass was trampled, earth torn up, and underbrush broken. But there was no carcass of a dead tapir.

  Hal was disappointed. He had hoped to capture the tiger here. When the big cat kills a large animal it usually eats what it can, leaves the carcass for some hours, and returns to eat again. The wily hunter will be there with his gun or his cage at the time of the second visit.

  But this time the tiger had been more wily than the hunter.

  ‘Look at the path,’ cried Roger. ‘There must be Indians.’

  ‘No Indians,’ said Aqua. The tiger made this path.’

  ‘But it’s as wide as three-tigers.’ ‘He was dragging the tapir.’ Hal stared. It was hard to believe. Out of the trampled arena led what was almost a road, three or four feet wide, with every bit of underbrush flattened as if a steam roller had passed over it.

  ‘How could a jaguar drag a tapir?’ he marvelled. ‘It’s as heavy as a cow.’

  There was no doubt about it. The largest of South American wild animals had been dragged through virgin forest that even a man with a machete and no burden would have had trouble in penetrating.

  They followed the trail. In some places it was more of a tunnel than a path since the tiger did not stand more than three feet high. They stooped and scrambled through.

  At any moment they expected to come upon the carcass, and perhaps the tiger. But the trail went on for more than a mile. Then it came out on the bank of the Amazon. It continued to the water’s edge. And that was all.

  Hal looked across the river. It was several miles wide. His respect for the jaguar grew.

  ‘I didn’t know it could swim,’ said Roger.

  ‘Better than you can. The jaguar loves the water. Perhaps his wife and kids live on the other side and he wanted them to share his meal. But think of swimming all that distance pulling something twice as heavy as himself!’ But Hal remembered the account in one of his manuals of a jaguar that killed a horse and swam with it across the river; and the report by the famous Brazilian, General Rondon, of a horse that was dragged a mile through heavy brush to a water hole where the jaguar might enjoy drinks with his meal.

  The cleverness of the animal was almost equal to its strength. It could have gone straight to the river past the camp — but it took a roundabout route to avoid any risk of losing its prize.

  On the way back to camp, Aqua showed the boys a strange sight — a tigers’ manicure parlour. It was a large tree. At a height of about six or seven feet above the ground were deep scars and scratches made by the claws of jaguars.

  This was the way, Aqua explained, that they sharpened their claws. They behaved just like house cats. Standing on their hind feet up against the tree, they dragged their claws repeatedly through the bark. Where their breasts rubbed the tree, it was worn smooth.

  Chapter 20

  Tigers Take No Nonsense

  Tiger country it was. That became clear during the day’s voyage.

  Roger was up ahead in the skiff. Suddenly he signalled his two men to stop rowing. He pointed to a cove. Hal stopped his oarsmen and the Ark drifted up alongside the skiff.

  On the log projecting out over the cove was a large jaguar. Its great head was turned the other way and it did not see the silent boats. It was busy fishing.

  It was using its tail as bait — or, rather, as a lure. It would tap the surface of the water lightly with its tail. Insects or fruit dropping on the surface would make a similar sound. The fish would come up to investigate.

  Suddenly the tiger made a quick thrust into the water with his paw and came up with a fish in his claws. He popped it into his mouth and ate it with relish. He looked lazily about and saw the boats. He got up slowly, too dignified to run, and walked solemnly into the forest.

  Aqua was grinning. ‘Very smart tiger,’ he said proudly, as if he owned it.

  Roger was not willing to believe what he had seen. ‘Do you think he was really using his tail to attract the fish? What does your book say, professor?’

  Hal was, as usual, deep in a manual. ‘Well, here’s something pretty wonderful. And it’s by a naturalist you can trust — Wallace. Listen to this: ‘The jaguar, say the Indians, is the most cunning animal in the forest: he can imitate the voice of almost every bird and animal so exactly as to draw them towards him: he fishes in the rivers, lashing the water with his tail to imitate falling fruit, and, when the fish approach, hooks them up with his claws. He catches and eats turtles, and I have myself found the unbroken shells which he has completely cleaned out with his paws: he even attacks the cowfish in its own element, and an eyewitness assured me that he had watched one dragging out of the water this bulky animal, weighing as much as a large ox.”

  Wow!’ commented Roger. ‘And you think you’re going to catch anything as strong and as smart as that! You’re crazy.’

  Banco became interested. ‘Does the senhor wish to catch a tigre?’

  That’s what I’m aiming to do,’ said Hal. He hoped that Banco, who had been a pretty sour customer during the trip so far, was now going to offer to help him. It was a vain hope.

  ‘You cannot capture a tigre,’ said Banco.

  Why not?’

  ‘It needs twenty or thirty men. We are only seven men, and a boy.’

  ‘But the ‘tiger man’ kills a tiger singlehanded.’

  ‘He kills it. He doesn’t take it alive. That’s different.’

  Hal had to admit the truth of this. But he was all the more determined to take home a tiger.

  He cut short the day’s journey at noon and ordered a landing. After eating, the men were set at work, building a cage. When Banco objected, Hal said, ‘Banco, we’re going to stay right here until we get a tiger — no matter if it takes a month.’

  To make the cage not only strong but light, stout bamboos were lashed together with green, wiry lianas. A door was built at one end. The cage was kept small enough so that the animal could not get leverage to break it. It was about four feet wide, four feet deep, and ten feet long.

  Nearby Hal found a trail to the shore where animals were accustomed to come down to drink. He looked eagerly for tiger tracks, but had to call Aqua. The Indian found them, and they were big enough to satisfy the most ambitious collector.

  Hal and his men began to dig a pit. The Indians were willing to work, but Banco sat on the sidelines muttering to himself. The pit was made six feet deep and about as wide. It was squarely in the middle of the trail.

  Then the men, under Hal’s direction, cut some poles and laid them across the hole. Hal laid the heavy loop of a lasso on the poles. Then he climbed the great fig tree that overhung the pit and tied the other end of the lasso to a branch, making the rope between the branch and the loop fairly taut.

  Then the poles and the loop were covered with leaves and dirt so that the pit was no longer visible.

  The cage was brought up and placed nearby, but out of sight among the bushes.

  The idea was that the tiger should fall through the loop which would tighten around him as he dropped into the pit. Then he would be drawn out and dragged into the cage. Banco snorted sarcastically.

  This you cannot do,’ he said.


  They retired to camp and waited. It was just getting dark when Hal heard a commotion in the direction of the trail. He stole through the woods to the pit.

  But he was due for disappointment. The pit was occupied, but not by a tiger. The great blunderbuss of the woods, the tapir, had fallen into it. Hal already had a tapir and did not want to take on another. Space in the boats was too precious.

  It was a two-hour job to haul out the heavy beast, cut it free, repair the pit, cover it, and reset the lasso.

  Then back to camp for another wait. But Hal was less hopeful than before.

  ‘Aqua,’ he said, ‘we don’t want all the animals in the jungle falling into that pit. We want a tiger.’

  Then let us call one,’ said Aqua.

  He went to his pack of belongings and brought out a steer horn. Hal followed him to the trail at the point where it came out on the riverbank.

  Aqua put his lips to the horn and a sound that

  certainly did not sound like Aqua’s voice came from it. It was exactly the voice of a tiger, beginning with a few deep coughs, rising to a fiendish roar, and dying down to low, slow grunts. It was so that moose were called in the north woods — but how different the call!

  They listened. The small animals of the forest had been paralysed into silence by the roar. But there was no answering tiger call.

  ‘Guess we’re in for a night of it,’ Hal said.

  All night, at intervals, Aqua made his call. It was not until just before dawn that there was a distant coughing answer. A faint grey was lightening the black river, but the darkness inside the jungle was still complete.

  Aqua called again. Again the answer. Each time it was closer. Now they could hear the low grunts at the end of the call. That meant that the animal was not more than a mile away.

  Closer and closer it came until it seemed that the beast must be just beside them in the bushes. Then a roar was cut off in the middle — and when it came again it had a new note. It was not the voice of one coming to meet a friend, but of one who had been tricked and trapped by an enemy. There was so much savage rage in it that the icicles prickled up and down Hal’s back.

  ‘He’s in the pit!’ he said.

  They ran to the pit where they were joined by the others from the camp. The pit was like a huge pot furiously boiling with something that showed yellow and black in the dawn. Everyone shouted with joy except Banco, and even he seemed sourly impressed.

  The rope hung straight and taut from the tree, and the branch to which it was fastened was shaking violently. Evidently the tiger was well caught in the noose.

  Now the little matter of getting him into the cage! Hal looked at the wildly churning mass of muscle with dismay and the earsplitting roars of the beast unsteadied his nerves. This whirling demon was certainly in no mood to walk into a cage.

  Hal had the cage brought up to the edge of the pit, and the door opened. He climbed the tree and untied the end of the line. He came down, passed the rope in through the door and out at the back between the slats. Now if everybody would pull, the tiger might be drawn up out of the pit and into the cage.

  It was an excellent theory. Tigers had been caught that way. But he reckoned without Banco. That gentleman, instead of pulling with the rest, sat under the tree and made sneering remarks.

  The tiger, furiously trying to climb out of the pit, was helped by the men pulling on the rope. Now he was up to the door of the cage. He could not see the men back in the bushes, but Banco was plainly visible.

  The big cat’s eyes blazed, and with a terrific roar he lunged at Banco. The rope scorched through the men’s hands and was pulled free. Banco let out the most piercing yell of his life and scrambled up the tree.

  If he had had time to think he might have acted differently. It was the worst thing he could do. The jaguar, expert tree climber, came up after him.

  ‘Shoot him! Shoot him!’ screamed Banco. Hal’s Savage was in his hand but he did not raise it.

  Higher and higher went Banco. Perhaps he thought that if he got up into branches that were weak enough, the heavy jaguar could not follow. This might have worked if he had not run into a wasps’ nest.

  An angry buzzing stopped him. His fingers had broken the nest and the residents came out a hundred strong to see who their visitor was. The welkin rang with his cries of distress as he was stung in dozens of places at once, on face, hands, legs, and through his thin shirt. The tiger was coming on, sinking his claws deep into the bark and moving with the terrifying grace and beauty of a great snake.

  Not that Banco saw any grace and beauty in it! He looked down into two eyes like headlights and open jaws lined with sharp teeth. The tiger was no longer tearing the sky apart with his roar. He was growling softly and deeply as if enjoying the prospect of such an easy meal.

  Hal was ashamed of himself for viewing this spectacle with so much satisfaction. But he could not idly leave Banco to the wasps and the tiger. He caught the end of the rope and lashed it around a branch so that animal could not go any higher.

  Banco did not know that this had been done and expected to be seized and devoured at any instant. Hal was content to let him live in terror a moment longer. Perhaps it would be good for him. Banco thrashed furiously at the wasps, only exciting them to more stinging. Slapping and striking, he lost his grip and slipped down towards the waiting jaws. He caught himself just in time.

  Hal’s heart popped into his mouth. Perhaps he was carrying this game just a little too far.

  He called the men, loosened the rope, and they all laid to and begin to draw the beast down the tree. The cage was brought to the foot of the tree and the rope was once more passed in through the door and out the back.

  ‘All together!’ cried Hal. ‘Pull!’

  They pulled with a will, and the rope broke.

  Instantly Hal was shinning up the tree. He had dropped his rifle, but his revolver was in its holster. He knew what he had to do. Kill the tiger before it killed Banco. Banco was screaming hysterically. The tiger was inching steadily upwards. They were so close together that Hal had not dare to fire from the ground for fear of hitting the man instead of the beast.

  The tiger, with a savage growl, made a lunge at one of Banco’s feet, missing it by inches. Banco pulled it out of reach, retreated further into the wasps’ nest, and shrieked to high heaven.

  The tiger was making ready for another lunge when Hal brought the butt of his revolver cracking down on one of the animal’s hind feet. It had the desired effect. The beast forgot Banco and turned to face his new tormentor. His head was now out of line with the cringing form above and Hal fired.

  He didn’t wait to see if the bullet had found its mark. The earsplitting roar told him that it had. He slid down the tree so fast that he ruined a pair of shorts. He was certain the tiger would follow — and it did.

  He had no sooner reached the ground than the tiger leaped from a branch fifteen feet up and came whizzing down to land on the spot where his enemy had just been. But Hal had made a quick jump to one side. He fired again. He missed. His hand shook, the revolver wobbled. He fired again and again. He realized now that Roger was firing with the Savage. The tiger rolled over, got up, wheezed blood, bellowed hoarsely, and came on again.

  Hal felt sick and numb. Everything was a blur, the tiger, the men, the woods, all whirling madly. He tried to get hold of himself. He fired straight into open jaws that were spewing blood over him. Then he was conscious that someone else was in the fight. Aqua was there with his spear. It was the famous old Indian way of fighting, the way that had been adopted also by the ‘tiger man’. But the spear had two blades instead of one. It was something like a two-tined fork.

  The tiger was already shot through and through. Yet he charged again with a coughing roar that filled the air with red spray. No man could have stopped that express train. Aqua did not try to stop it with his own strength. He let the earth beneath him do the work. As the weapon pierced the tiger’s chest, Aqua pressed the othe
r end of the spear into the earth, thus letting it take the force of the blow. The tiger was stopped dead in his tracks. Aqua lunged forward with the spear, trying to push the animal over on to its back. But the tiger swerved, shook itself loose from the spear, and came on again with a roar, making a leap at Aqua’s throat.

  Hal and Roger kept firing. The king of the jungle was being steadily shredded to bits but he fought on. Again Aqua plunged the spear into his chest and the other end into the ground. The spear bent like a bow but it stopped the charge. The tiger staggered weakly. While it was off balance, Aqua heaved with all his might.

  Over went the animal on to its back. But all its four paws were towards Aqua, clawing the air. The Indian side-stepped to get behind the beast’s head, still pinning the body firmly to the ground.

  Once behind the head, he could work more safely. He was out of reach of the powerful legs which shot out in all directions as the animal furiously tried to wrench loose.

  Aqua see-sawed the spear back and forth, pressing it farther and farther in, piercing the heart. Hal emptied the rest of his revolver into the great head. There was a wild struggle that tore up the earth and brush for yards around. But the roars were becoming weaker. The big feet swiped the air with less force. The powerful beast went limp and lay still, blood flowing from the heart.

  The two boys and Aqua had no sense of victory. This was a battle they had lost, not won. They still had to take a tiger alive.

  Chapter 21

  Tiger by the Tail

  The crew ate the dead jaguar, in spite of the fact that the taste of it was not very agreeable. Indians believe that eating a brave animal makes you brave.

  Hal waited a day and a night for another jaguar to come along the trail but none came.

  ‘All right,’ he said, ‘if they won’t come to us, we’ll go to them.’

  He and Roger and three of the Indians struck back up the trail into the jungle following tiger tracks. The spoor, marked plainly in the soft ground, led them finally to a low ridge in the side of which was a cave. The tracks disappeared within the cave.