"Lord Harry!" e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed Harris, pondering the cryptical remark, "you surely are a queer little dud!"

But the girl turned from him to Rosendo. He understood her. Nor would she permit the old man to leave her until, late that night, exhausted by the excitement of the day, she dropped asleep in the house of Don Nicolas, on the muddy margin of the river Boque, still clinging to Rosendo's hand.

Despite the protestations of Don Nicolas and the pleading of the _cargadores_, Rosendo stolidly refused to spend a day at Boque.

Apprehension lashed him furiously on. They were still within reach of the federal authorities. He dared not rest until the jungle had swallowed them.

"Ah, _compadre_," said Don Nicolas, in disappointment, "I would like much for you to enjoy my house while it is still clean. For the ants have visited me. _Hombre_! they swarmed down upon us but a day ago.

They came out of the bush in millions, straight for the house. We fled. _Caramba_! had we remained, we should have been eaten alive. But they swept the house--_Hombre_! no human hands could have done so well. Every spider, every rat, beetle, flea, every plague, was instantly eaten, and within a half hour they had disappeared again, and we moved back into a thoroughly cleaned house!"

Harris stood with mouth agape in mute astonishment when Carmen, whom he had const.i.tuted his interpreter, translated to him the story.

That evening, after they had eaten out in the open before the house, and the Americans had tickled the palates of the villagers with some tinned beef of uncertain quality, Don Nicolas approached Reed.

"Senor," he said, "my mother, now very aged, is sick, and we think she can not recover. But you Americanos are wonderfully skilled, and your medicines powerful. Have you not some remedy in your pack that will alleviate the good woman's sufferings? They are severe, senor."

Reed knew how great was the faith of these simple people in the wisdom of the American, and he had reason to wish to preserve it. But he had come into that country illy prepared to cope with disease, and his medical equipment contained nothing but quinine. He reflected a moment, then turned to Harris.

"Did you smuggle any of your beloved root-beer extract into the equipment?" he inquired, his eyes twinkling.

Harris looked sheepish, but returned a sullen affirmative.

"Well," continued Reed, "dig out a bottle and we'll fix up a dose of pain-killer for our worthy host's mother."

Then he turned to Don Nicolas. "Cierto, senor," he said with an air of confidence. "I have a remedy which I know to be unfailing for any disease."

He disappeared into the house, from which he emerged again in a few moments with an empty cola bottle. Washing this clean in the river, he partly filled it with water. Then he poured in the small bottle of root-beer extract which Harris handed him, and added a few grains of quinine. Shaking the mixture thoroughly, he carried it to Don Nicolas.

"Be very careful, senor," he admonished, giving him the bottle. "It is a medicine extremely powerful and immediate in its action. Give the senora a small teaspoonful every hour. By morning you will notice a marked change."

Don Nicolas's eyes lighted with joy, and his grat.i.tude poured forth in extravagant expressions.

With the first indications of approaching day Rosendo was abroad, rounding up his cargadores, who were already bickering as to their respective duties, and arranging the luggage in the canoes for the river trip. Additional boats and men had been secured; and Don Nicolas himself expressed his intention of accompanying them as far as his hacienda, Maria Rosa, a day's journey up-stream.

"It was there that I hid during the last revolution," he said, "when the soldiers burned the village and cut off the ears and fingers of our women for their rings. Ah, senores, you can not know how we suffered! All my goods stolen or burned--my family scattered--my _finca_ destroyed! We lived two years at Maria Rosa, not daring to come down the river again. We wore the skins of animals for clothing.

_Caramba_!" His eyes burned fiercely as he spoke, and his hands opened and closed convulsively. He was a representative of that large cla.s.s of _rurales_ upon whom the heaviest burdens, the greatest suffering, and the most poignant sorrow attending a political revolution always fall.

"But, senor!" he exclaimed, suddenly turning to Reed, "I had all but forgotten! My mother, she sends for you. She would see the kind American whose remedies are so wonderful. For, senor, she rose from her bed this morning restored! And you must leave us another bottle of the remedy--at whatever price, senor!"

Reed gazed at the man uncomprehendingly, until at length the truth dawned upon him. His root-beer remedy had done its work! Then a broad grin mantled his face; but he quickly suppressed it and went with Don Nicolas to receive in person his patient's effusive thanks. When he returned and took his place in the waiting boat, he shook his head.

"It's past all understanding," he muttered to Harris, "what faith will do! I can believe now that it will remove mountains."

Throughout the long, interminably long, hot day the perspiring men poled and paddled, urged and teased, waded and pushed against the increasing current, until, as the shadows began to close around them, they sighted the scarcely visible opening in the bush which marked the trail to the _hacienda_ of Maria Rosa. It was a desperately lonely clearing on the verge of the jungle; but there were two thatch-covered sheds, and to the exhausted travelers it gave a.s.surance of rest and protection. Before they made the landing Rosendo's sharp eyes had spied a large ant-eater and her cub, moving sluggishly through the bush; and Reed's quick shots had brought them both down. The men's eyes dilated when the animals were dragged into the canoes. It meant fresh meat instead of salt _bagre_ for at least two days.

Early next morning the travelers bade farewell to Don Nicolas and set their course again up-stream. They would now see no human being other than the members of their own little party until they reached Llano, on the distant Nechi.

"Remember," called Don Nicolas, as the canoes drifted out into the stream, "the _quebrada_ of Caracoli is the third on the right. An old trail used to lead from there across to the Tiguicito--but I doubt if you find even a trace of it now. There is no water between that point and the Tiguicito. _Conque, adios, senores, adios_!"

The hallooing of farewells echoed along the river and died away in the dark forest on either hand. Harris and Reed settled back in their canoe and yielded to the fascination of the slowly shifting scene.

Carmen chose to occupy the same canoe with them, and perforce Rosendo acted as _patron_. They therefore took the lead. Between his knees Reed held the rifle upright, in readiness for any animal whose curiosity might bring it to the water's edge to view the rare pageant pa.s.sing through that unbroken solitude.

The river was now narrowing, and there were often rapids whose ascent necessitated disembarking from the canoes, while the _bogas_ strained and teased the lumbering dugouts up over them. In places the stream was choked by fallen trees and tangled driftwood, until only a narrow, tortuous opening was left, through which the waters raced like a mill-course, making a heavy draft on the intuitive skill of the _bogas_. Often slender islets rose from the river; and then heated, chattering, often acrimonious discussions ensued among the men as to the proper channel to take. Always on either side rose the matted, tangled, impenetrable forest wall of dense bush and giant trees, from which innumerable trailers and _bejuco_ vines dropped into the waters beneath. From the surface of the river to the tops of the great trees, often two hundred feet above, hung a drapery of creeping plants, of parasitical growths, and diversified foliage, of the most vivid shades of green, inextricably laced and interwoven, and dotted here and there with orchideous flowers and strange blossoms, while in the tempered sunlight which sifted through it sported gorgeous insects and b.u.t.terflies of enormous size and exquisite shades, striped and spotted in orange, blue, and vivid red. Scarcely a hand's breadth of the jungle wall but contained some strange, eerie animal or vegetable form that brought expressions of wonder and astonishment from the enraptured Americans. At times, too, there were grim tragedies being enacted before them. In one spot a huge, hairy spider, whose delicate, lace-like web hung to the water's edge, was viciously wrapping its silken thread about a tiny bird that had become entangled. Again, a shriek from beyond the river's margin told of some careless monkey or small animal that had fallen prey to a hungry jaguar. Above the travelers all the day swung the ubiquitous buzzards, with their watchful, speculative eyes ever on the slowly moving cavalcade.

Carmen sat enthralled. If her thought reverted at all to the priest, she gave no hint of it. But once, leaning back and gazing off into the opalescent sky overhead, she murmured: "And to think, it is only the way the human mind translates G.o.d's ideas! How wonderful must they be! And some day I shall see those ideas, instead of the mortal mind's interpretations of them!"

Harris heard her, and asked her to repeat her comments in English. But she refused. "You would not understand," she said simply. And no badinage on his part could further influence her.

Rosendo, inscrutable and silent, showed plainly the weight of responsibility which he felt. Only twice that day did he emerge from the deep reserve into which he had retired; once when, in the far distance, his keen eye espied a small deer, drinking at the water's edge, but which, scenting the travelers, fled into cover ere Reed could bring the rifle to his shoulders; and again, when they were upon a jaguar almost before either they or the astonished animal realized it.

In the tempered rays of the late afternoon sun the flower-bespangled walls of the forest became alive with gaily painted birds and insects.

Troops of chattering monkeys awoke from their midday _siesta_ and scampered noisily through the treetops over the aerial highways formed by the liana vines, whose great bush-ropes, often a foot and more in thickness, stretched their winding length long distances through the forest, and bound the vegetation together in an intricate, impenetrable network. Yellow and purple blossoms, in a riot of ineffable splendor, bedecked the lofty trees and tangled parasitical creepers that wrapped around them, const.i.tuting veritable hanging gardens. Great palms, fattened by the almost incessant rains in this hot-house of Nature, rose in the s.p.a.ces unoccupied by the b.u.t.tressed roots of the forest giants. Splendidly tailored kingfishers swooped over the water, scarce a foot above its surface. Quarreling parrots and nagging macaws screamed their inarticulate message to the travelers. Tiny forest gems, the infinitely variegated _colibri_, whirred across the stream and followed its margins until attracted by the gorgeous pendent flowers.

On the _playas_ in the hazy distance ahead the travelers could often distinguish tall, solemn cranes, dancing their grotesque measures, or standing on one leg and dreaming away their little hour of life in this terrestrial fairy-land.

Darkness fell, almost with the swiftness of a snuffed candle. For an hour Rosendo had been straining his eyes toward the right bank of the river, and as he gazed his apprehension increased. But, as night closed in, a soft murmur floated down to the cramped, toil-worn travelers, and the old man, with a glad light in his eyes, announced that they were approaching the _quebrada_ of Caracoli. A half hour later, by the weird, flickering light of the candles which Reed and Harris held out on either side, Rosendo turned the canoe into a brawling stream, and ran its nose into the deep alluvial soil.

Plunging fearlessly through the fringe of delicate ferns which lined the margin of the creek, he cut a wide swath with his great _machete_ and uncovered a dim trail, which led to a ramshackle, thatch-covered hut a few yards beyond. It was the tumbled vestige of a shelter which Don Nicolas had erected years before while hunting wild pigs through this trackless region. An hour later the little group lay asleep on the damp ground, wrapped in the solitude of the great forest.

The silvery haze of dawn was dimming the stars and deepening into ruddier hues that tinged the fronds of the mighty trees as with streaks of blood when Rosendo, like an implacable Nemesis, prodded his little party into activity. Their first day's march through the wilderness was to begin, and the old man moved with the nervous, restless energy of a hunted jaguar. The light breakfast of coffee and cold _arepa_ over, he dismissed the _bogas_, who were to return to Boque with the canoes, and set about arranging the cargo in suitable packs for the _cargadores_ who were to accompany him over the long reaches of jungle that stretched between them and Llano. Two _macheteros_ were sent on ahead of the main party to locate and open a trail. The rest followed an hour later. Before the shimmering, opalescent rays which overspread the eastern sky had begun to turn downward, the little cavalcade, led by Rosendo, had taken the narrow, newly-cut trail and plunged into the shadows of the forest--

"the great, dim, mysterious forest, where uncertainty wavers to an interrogation point."

CHAPTER 38

The emotion of the jungle is a direct function of human temperament.

Where one sees in it naught but a "grim, green sepulcher," teeming with malignant, destructive forces, inimical to health, to tranquillity, to life, another--perhaps a member of the same party--will find in the wanton extravagance of Nature, her prodigious luxury, her infinite variety of form, of color, and sound, such stimuli to the imagination, and such invitation to further discovery and development, as to const.i.tute a lure as insidious and unescapable as the habit which too often follows the first draft of the opium's fumes. There are those who profess to have journeyed through vast stretches of South American _selva_ without encountering a wild animal. Others, with sight and hearing keener, and with a sense of observation not dulled by futile lamentations over the absence of the luxuries of civilized travel, will uncover a wealth of experiences which feed the memory throughout their remaining years, and mold an irresistible desire to penetrate again those vast, teeming, baffling solitudes.

It is true, the sterner aspect of the South American jungle affords little invitation to repose or restful contemplation. And the charm which its riotous prodigality exerts is in no sense idyllic. For the jungle falls upon one with the force of a blow. It grips by its ma.s.siveness, its awful grandeur. It does not entice admiration, but exacts obeisance by brute force. Its silence is a dull roar. Its rest is continuous motion, incessant activity. The garniture of its trackless wastes is that of great daubs of vivid color, laid thick upon the canvas with the knife--never modulated, never worked into delicate shading with the brush, but attracting by its riot, its audacity, its immensity, its disdain of convention, its utter disregard of the canons cherished by the puny mind that contemplates it. The forest's appeal is a reflex of its own infinite complexity. The sensations which it arouses within the one who steps from civilization into its very heart are myriad, and often terrible. The instinct of self-preservation is by it suddenly, rudely aroused and kept keenly alive. Its inhospitality is menacing.

The roar of its howling monkeys strikes terror to the timid heart.

The plaintive calls of its persecuted feathered denizens echo through the mysterious vastnesses like despairing voices from a spirit world. The crashing noises, the strange, weird, unaccountable sounds that hurtle through its dimly lighted corridors blanch the face and cause the hand to steal furtively toward the loosely sheathed weapon. The piercing, frenzied screams which arise with blood-curdling effect through the awful stillness of noonday or the dead of night, turn the startled thought with sickening yearning toward the soft charms of civilization, in which the sense of protection is greater, even if actual security is frequently less.

Because of Nature's utter disregard of the individual, life is everywhere. And that life is sharply armed and on the defensive.

The rising heat-waves hum with insects. The bush swarms with them.

Their droning murmur crowds the air. The trunks of trees, the great, pendent leaves of plants, the trailing vines, slimy with dank vegetation, afford footing and housing to countless myriads of them, keenly alert, ferociously resistive. The decaying logs fester with scorpions. The ground is cavernous with the burrows of lizards and crawling forms, with centipedes and fierce formicidae.

Death and terror stalk hand in hand. But life trails them. Where one falls, countless others spring up to fill the gap. The rivers and _pantanos_ yield their quota of variegated forms. The flat _perania_, the dreaded electric eel, infests the warm streams, and inflicts its torture without discrimination upon all who dare invade its domain. Snakes lurk in the fetid swamps and lagoons, the brilliant coral and the deadly _mapina_. Beneath the forest leaves coils the brown adder, whose sting proves fatal within three days.

To those who see only these aspects of the jungle, a journey such as that undertaken by Rosendo and his intrepid little band would prove a terrifying experience, a constant repet.i.tion of nerve-shocks, under which the "centers" must ultimately give way. But to the two Americans, fresh from the mining camps of the West, and attuned to any pitch that Nature might strike in her marvelous symphony, the experience was one to be taken in the same spirit as all else that pertained to their romantic calling. Rosendo and his men accepted the day's stint of toil and danger with dull stolidity. Carmen threw herself upon her thought, and saw in her shifting environment only the human mind's interpretation of its mixed concept of good and evil. The insects swarmed around her as around the others. The tantalizing _jejenes_ urged their insidious attacks upon her, as upon the rest.

Her hands were dotted with tiny blood-blisters where the ravenous gnats had fed. But she uttered no complaint; nor would she discuss the matter when Harris proffered his sympathy, and showed his own red hands.

"It isn't true," she would say. "But you have no religion, and you don't understand--as yet."

"Don't understand? And it isn't true, eh? Well, you have mighty strange beliefs, young lady!"

"But not as strange and illogical as those you hold," she replied.

"Oh, I don't believe anything," he answered, with a shrug of his shoulders. "I'm an agnostic, you know."

"There is just where you mistake, Mr. Harris," she returned gravely.