He could look up the names of all schooners sailing under the flag of Venezuela and write letters of inquiry to their masters, offering a reward. But this might implicate him in a kidnapping case.
He decided that his best plan would be to run blind advertisements regularly in the newspapers of Venezuela's chief seaports. So he inserted notices in all of them twice weekly for several months.
At the end of that time, when no answers had come, he wrote to the masters of all Venezuelan schooners, using an alias and living in Jacksonville for the purpose of getting his mail there under the assumed name. He received courteous replies from every ship's master to whom he had written, but not one could tell him what he sought to know.
In desperation Dr. Bracken resorted to his original plan, some nine months after Jan's escape. Selling his menagerie and what securities he had, he deposited the money in a Tampa bank, obtained letters of credit and left.
First he called at every United States port on the Gulf of Mexico. Then he obtained passports and called at every other port on the gulf, the Bay of Campeche, and the Caribbean Sea. Still unsuccessful, but unwilling to give up, he circled the entire continent of South America, spending some time in each port and returning via the Panama Canal.
Nearly three years after Jan's escape, he got back to Citrus Crossing with his meager fortune dissipated-only to find a letter there, postmarked "Cumana." With trembling, eager fingers, he opened it and read in Spanish:
Dear Sir:
Today I bought a bottle of tequila, and the man who sold it to me wrapped it in an old newspaper. When I unwrapped it later I noticed your advertisement.
I am the ship's master who captured the ape you mention. With her was a wild boy with red hair. My ship, the Santa Margarita, was driven out of her course and sunk by a hurricane. The boy and ape, together with my first mate, a Haitian Negro, escaped into the jungle.
Having lost my fortune with my ship, and being compelled to earn my living as a day laborer, I have not had the means to pursue them. But I have heard rumors of their doings, and could easily locate them for you if supplied with the money to finance an expedition into the jungle. I should be delighted to undertake this for a reasonable compensation.
I am, sir, your most humble and obedient servant, CAPTAIN FRANCESCO SANTOS.
Dr. Bracken thoughtfully stroked his iron-gray beard. Then he lit a black stogie and sat down, puffing fiercely. Fate, it seemed, had not only worked against him, but was now laughing at him. For she at last revealed the one person who could lead him to Jan-but after she had stripped him of the money needed for going after the boy.
The doctor was not a man to accept defeat, however, even from Fate. There would be a way to carry on; there must be a way.
Suddenly he slapped his thigh and laughed. An idea had occurred to him which appealed to his grim sense of humor. By a clever juggling of the facts he felt sure that Harry Trevor, Jan's father, could be made to pay all expenses for the expedition, including the doctor's own.
Over in the harbor of Tampa the palatial yacht Georgia A. rode idly at anchor, awaiting the whim of her master. This and Trevor's millions would be at his disposal, Dr. Bracken saw with satisfaction.
The Trevors were having tea on their spacious screened veranda when he drove up.
"Welcome home; doc," said Harry Trevor, genially, rising and extending his hand as the doctor came in. "Have a pleasant trip"
Rather, replied the physician, as they shook hands. "As trips go, it wasn't half bad."
He released the young millionaire's hand and looked at Georgia Trevor with an involuntary catch of his breath. If anything, she grew more beautiful year by year in spite of her great sorrow. She was a trifle thinner, a little paler than she had been in that bygone time when his love had turned to hate. But her velvety skin was unmarred by wrinkles, and the shimmering copper of her hair was still untouched by the silversmith called Time. Only in her big blue eyes, might one see the shadow of the tragedy that had all but deprived her of life itself-the tragedy which, though, she did not suspect, had been brought about by the man who was now smiling down at her, his white teeth gleaming against the dark background of his beard.
The doctor advanced and bowed low over her hand.
"I see you have been busy during my absence," he said.
"Busy? Doing what?"
"Growing more beautiful."
She laughed-a little silvery ripple that had an undertone of sadness.
"What'll it be, old man?" asked Trevor. "Tea, or something stronger? My bootlegger just brought me some excellent Scotch."
"Tea will do, thanks."
He took a seat at the table and watched Georgia as she gracefully poured the amber beverage. Trevor pushed lemons, sugar and cream before him.
The doctor helped himself to cream and sugar, and stirred his beverage thoughtfully for a moment. Finally he spoke.
"I don't want you to take it too seriously, yet," he said, "for it is possible that I am mistaken. However, I believe I have some great news for you two."
Georgia Trevor leaned forward eagerly.
"It's not about-it can't be about our baby!" she exclaimed.
"Yes."
The teacup dropped from her forgers, and the two men sprang to her support, as she seemed about to faint. But she steadied herself resolutely.
"I'm-I'm quite all right. Tell me!"
The doctor sat down once more, and Trevor collected the fragments of the shattered cup.
"You will remember that an ape of mine wandered away about three years ago," began the doctor. "A female chimpanzee. She was a valuable animal and a favorite pet of mine, so I spared no expense in my attempts to recapture her.
"I followed her into the swamp, but eventually lost the trail, nor did I hear anything of her for several months afterward. But one day while hunting I met an old 'cracker' who lived by himself back in the swamps. He told a strange tale of having seen the ape, in company with a red-headed youth about sixteen years old, captured by the crew of a Venezuelan schooner. Both were taken aboard the ship, which then sailed away.
"I doubted the tale at first, but as it was my sole remaining clue, I decided to act upon it. I advertised in the leading Venezuelan newspapers without result. But today, upon my return, a letter was waiting for me. Written in answer to my ad, it confirms the strange story of the old cracker, who has since died. How this boy and my chimpanzee came to be traveling together is a mystery. Possibly the same person who kidnaped your baby captured my ape. Perhaps, after becoming friends, they escaped together. At any rate they were really captured together, and together were shipwrecked on the coast of South America. Listen to this."
He took the letter of Santos from his pocket, opened, and read it.
Georgia Trevor turned to her husband, her eyes alight with hope.
"It must be our boy, Harry!" she exclaimed. "I am sure it is. Can't we go to South America at once and look for him? Oh, I want him so!"
"We certainly can, dear," he said. "I'll send a wire to Tampa, so the yacht will be provisioned and ready. Then we'll drive over in the morning, get aboard, and be off." He turned to the doctor. "You're coming with us, aren't you, doc?"
The physician sighed.
"Like to," he responded, "but I'm afraid I can't. You see, I had a little run of bad luck with stocks. I'm cleaned."
'"Don't let that worry you, old man. I want to pay all expenses, you know. Insist on it. And we need you; not only because of your medical knowledge but because you are a seasoned traveler and jungle explorer. I'd like to have you take charge of the expedition on a salary--name it yourself--and all expenses paid. Just tell me how much you need at present, and I'll advance it now."
The details were soon settled. Money was cabled to Santos, and he was instructed to organize and take charge of a party for the expedition, and then to await the arrival of the yacht.
The next morning the Georgia A. steamed out of Tampa harbor, bound for South America.
C
HAPTER XIV. THE HIDDEN VALLEY
JAN HESITATED for a moment when he saw the cruel jaws of the immense anaconda close on the shoulder of Chicma. Then, running lightly out to the end of the limb on which he stood, he dived for a point beside the great, thick coils that were slithering up out of the pool to encircle their victim.
Although it was a much higher dive than he had ever made, Jan struck the water cleanly and came up beside the serpent. Whipping out his machete, he hacked again and again at the writhing coils. The waters of the pool seethed with the struggles of man, ape and serpent.
Presently the anaconda released its hold on Chicma, who was, by this time, near the curtain of water dripping from above. She instantly scrambled through it, and Jan was left alone to fight it out with the huge reptile, which had now turned all its attention to him.
With jaws gaping and neck arched above the foaming water, it struck straight for his face. But although the dart of the serpent was incredibly swift, the counter-stroke of Jan was quicker. His machete flashed in, a shimmering arc, its keen edge half severing the reptile's enormous head from its body. Feebly, the snake attempted to strike again, but this time the machete completed its task, and the gaping head flew off to sink out of sight, while the scaly body continued to writhe and flounder aimlessly about in the water.
Jan's first concern was for Chicma, whom he had seen as she crawled through the sheet of falling water. Plunging in after her, he found her huddled against the cliff beneath the falls, whimpering and licking her wounded shoulder.
"Come!" he barked in the chimpanzee language. "Let us go back to the hut."
"No. Sleepy One will get me."
"But he has gone to sleep forever."
"I will not go. He might wake up."
He coaxed, but to no avail.
Then he thought of the open valley at the other end of the cavern where he had met the hairy men. Perhaps he could persuade her to go that way. And anyhow, he wanted to explore the valley and to avenge himself on the hairy creatures who had attacked him. He would teach them and their kind to let him alone, as he had taught the Indians of the jungle.
He went back to the tree-hut, where he gathered an assortment of weapons: a bow and a quiverful of arrows, a blowgun with a supply of poisoned darts, and a spear. He also exchanged the machete he was carrying for one slightly larger and heavier.
Returning to where Chicma cowered beneath the waterfall, he said:
"Come. We leave this place."
She followed him obediently as he climbed the notches in the face of the cliff and entered the cave guarded by the hawk-faced and dog-faced statues. She was not afraid to go with him through the dark corridors of the cavern. But she balked when they reached the place where it was necessary to enter the water once more in order to get out into the sunlight. Twice she had been injured by monsters that had come up out of the water-an alligator and an anaconda-and she feared it.
After coaxing and arguing for some time to no avail, Jan decided to take his weapons through first, then come back after her. He made them into a bundle with the curari-tipped blowgun darts on the top, so the poison would not be washed from their points. Supporting the bundle, half in and half out of the water, with one hand he swam out into the sunlight. Making for the shore, he hid his bundle in a clump of reeds, then swam back into the cavern.
Chicma, seeing him return unhurt, finally decided to go back with him.
As solicitous as a mother for her babe, Jan helped Chicma through the underground channel. She had cared for him in his years of helplessness, and now that she grew more dependent day by day, he felt that come what might he must care for her.
Emerging into the sunlight, they swam for the shore and climbed up the bank. Standing on the top, they shook themselves like two dogs.
Jan gathered up his weapons and they started off down the broken, weed-gown avenue. To the ape, the grotesque images which lined the approach to the temple ruins were only so many oddly shaped stones, but to the boy they were a source of wonder and curiosity. He eyed each one suspiciously as he came near it, fearful lest it should suddenly come to life and attack them. He also kept a sharp lookout for his former enemies, the hairy men.
On reaching the portal of the ruined temple, they advanced cautiously, Jan keeping his weapons in readiness in case some unseen enemy should leap out from behind a pillar or fallen rock fragment.
A large part of the roof had caved in, but many sections were still intact. The walls were decorated with brightly colored murals, and much statuary stood about on pedestals and in niches. The floor was of smooth, well-matched tiles laid in geometric designs. All of these things appealed tremendously to Jan's inherent artistic and aesthetic nature, so that he proceeded slowly in order to gaze his fill at the new wonders constantly appearing before him.
The building consisted of a central auditorium, around which were many corridors and anterooms. At one end of the great hall; on a semicircular platform, stood a colossal image of a man with a thin, sickle-like beard curving outward from the point of his chin. On the head was a tall crown, ornamented on each side with a curling plume and a twisted horn, and in front with a smooth, golden disk. One huge hand held a three-lashed whip, and the other a short-handled crook.
Passing on through the ruins of the building Jan and Chicma emerged in the remains of what had once been a large and magnificent garden, circled by a high stone wall. Despite the fact that it was overgrown with weeds and creepers, there remained many flowers, shrubs and trees. In the center an ornate fountain of marble and carnelian splashed musically.
At the far end of the garden was a small, vine-covered bower. Jan wandered toward this, admiring several small statuettes which stood along the pathway, while Chicma made straight for an orange tree near the wall.
He had passed the fountain only a little way when he saw something that caused him to stiffen in his tracks, then silently dart behind a clump of shrubbery. A thing inside the bower had moved; an immense thing with striped sides and back, and a huge, cat-like head.
Loading his blow-gun with a poisoned dart, Jan waited tensely. The great shaggy head slowly emerged into the pathway, followed by a striped body as large as that of a burro. With tasselled ears laid back and eight-inch tusks gleaming, its appearance was terror-striking.
Jan recognized the creature instantly from a picture he had seen in one of Ramona's books. It was a saber-toothed tiger, and Ramona had told him it belonged to a past age, that there were no longer any such creatures on earth. Apparently she had been misinformed.
The primeval giant cat had evidently been awakened from its nap by the sound of their entrance into its retreat, and resented it. Noting the direction of its baleful gaze, Jan saw that it was watching Chicma as she sat on one of the lower branches of the orange tree, greedily devouring the fragrant fruit.
Jan put his blow-gun to his lips and sped a tiny dart at the monster. The slender missile imbedded itself in the great striped shoulder, and clung. The creature shook itself; dislodging it. Evidently the small projectile had not caused this big cat any more inconvenience or pain than the sting of an insect.
Knowing the usual effect of the curari poison with which he had tipped the dart, Jan waited, expecting to see the creature sink down dead in its tracks. But-instead, it charged straight for the tree in which Chicma was feeding, uttering a roar louder and more terrible than any Jan had ever heard.
As the beast charged, Jan sent a second dart into its side. He shot a third into its heaving flank as it leaped for the lower branches of the orange tree.
Chicma had taken one look at the charging carnivore and scampered for the topmost branches of the tree, but when she saw it leaping up toward her she swung over the top of the high wall and dropped out of sight on the other side.
The poison from the first dart had evidently not been enough to paralyze the motor nerves of the huge beast. But the triple dose began to take effect as it caught the lower branches of the tree. It clung to them for a mom
ent, snarling and roaring, then fell to the ground on its back.
Jan knew that no member of the cat tribe would fall on its back from that height unless it was very near death, so he waited. After thrashing about for some time in the undergrowth, the mighty killer finally lay still.
Before approaching it, Jan fired an arrow into the carcass. As no movement followed, he was convinced that the monster was sleeping its last long sleep, and advanced to examine it. For some time he looked the beast over, marveling at its long, sickle-shaped claws, its bulging muscles, and its immense saber-like tusks. What a fearful antagonist it would make! Jan had fought the jaguar and the puma, machete against teeth and claws, and won, but he felt very dubious indeed about the outcome of such a duel with one of these monsters.
However, it had gone to sleep now, never to waken. He must reassure Chicma. He called to her, but there was no reply. He called again at the top of his voice. Still no answer.
Alarmed, he scrambled up the orange tree and onto the top of the wall. He was looking out over a vast, rolling plain--a savanna of tall, waving grass, dotted here and there with clumps of trees. Meeting at the point where the river went underground and traveling as far as he could see to the right and left, until lost in the blue haze, was an unbroken line of tall cliffs, encircling the valley through which the river meandered. Beyond the plain before him was a dense forest, Chicma's trail of trampled grass led that way; she had set out for the jungles of this great closed valley.
After caching his blow-gun darts and spear in one of the anterooms 'of the temple in order to lighten his burden, Jan hurried after the chimpanzee, following the plainly marked trail with ease through the tall, rustling grass.
Jan of the Jungle Page 8
