CHAPTER XI

IN THE RUBBER FOREST

The rubber camp was a dismal place. The clusters of huts comprising the settlement stood in the deep shade cast by gigantic trees that grew close together; most of them were little more than shelters--peaked roofs on poles, and were of the flimsiest possible construction. The palm-leaf thatch was held in place by poles laid across it short distances apart, instead of being tied with strips of bark or creepers. However, the makeshift construction was entirely practicable as the hovels had to be replaced each year and they served their purpose well for one short season.

The paths that had been worn between the huts were muddy and a number of lean pigs wallowed in them. The latter were the camp scavengers and were also relied upon to destroy scorpions, tarantulas and other obnoxious creatures that ventured near the human habitations.

The smokehouses in which the rubber later was prepared, after it had been brought in from the forest, stood apart from the huts occupied as living quarters by the men. These had walls that enclosed them, but light filtered into the interior through the thin layer of leaves that extended from the roof to the ground. The earth floors were littered with an array of large tin cones, pails, bowls of various sizes, wooden paddles and heaps of the palm nuts burned to produce the acrid smoke needed to congeal the rubber milk. There were also numerous little fireplaces built of stones. David was to learn the use of all these utensils very soon.

Several long dug-out canoes were tied up at the bank. They were a precautionary measure. If the water in the river should rise suddenly, as it sometimes did, the men could take to the boats as the whole region would soon be inundated.

They unloaded the launch and carried the supplies to the storehouse. Their personal effects were taken to those huts having sufficient space for their hammocks. David returned to the boat just in time to see a large bird winging its way up the river.

“There goes your pet,” one of the men greeted him. “I told you so.”

The wire had been bitten in two as if it had been a thread.

“Well, if it’s like that, I’m glad it’s gone,” David said, but he was in reality somewhat sorry to lose his prize.

“You can’t keep them,” the man continued. “They bite or gnaw their way out of anything and if you try to be friendly they bite your fingers off.”

The bird had swerved in its flight and with raucous screams disappeared over the tree-tops.

Nothing was seen of the men engaged in the rubber harvest, for they were in the forest collecting the previous night’s flow of sap. Only two Brazilians, the cook and his helper, were on duty at the camp, and they kept up a continuous bombardment of questions of the newcomers, most of which concerned David, but he did not try to understand what was being said.

The Indians and Brazilians arrived from the forest shortly before noon and looked at the white man in astonishment. The Indians had their abodes apart from the others and did not mingle with the Brazilians; most of them had their entire families with them and all helped with the work in hand.

David was awakened early the following morning. Daylight had not yet penetrated into the jungle, but by the time coffee had been prepared, each man going to the cook shack with his cup for his share, the gray light was filtering through the branches overhead. The Indians remained near their hovels and prepared their own food over small fires.

“Come with me!” The speaker was one of the men who had come on the launch, and his words were directed at David.

“Here is your outfit. I will start you on a route and tell you all you have to know,” he continued. “Tomorrow and every day after that you’ll be alone like the rest of us.”

David took the small ax which, however, had a handle five feet long; that was the “outfit” to which the man had referred. Silently, he followed his guide into the forest.

“Now, listen,” the latter said, after they had gone a short distance. “The trees that produce the rubber milk are called _Hevea braziliensis_; everybody knows that name, even the most ignorant Indians, so you ought to remember it, too. The trees grow all over the forest, but the trouble is that there are never very many of them close together. You will find one here and one there and by the time you have discovered a few hundred you will be many kilometers from where you started. Could you tell one if you saw it?”

“Yes, I know a rubber tree. It has long, thick leaves. Some of them grow higher than I am,” David replied, proud of his knowledge.

“I never saw one like that. This is one of the kind I mean,” and the man stopped. Before him was a tree fully seventy-five feet high and eighteen inches through at the base. At first it looked to David exactly like all the other trees around them. But a second glance showed a number of V-shaped welts distributed evenly around the lower part of the trunk.

“Is that one?” he asked. “It is different from my kind, but I see. It will be easy to find the trees now that you have pointed one out to me. I could tell them from a distance on account of the way the bark grows.”

The man burst into a laugh.

“The bark don’t grow that way naturally,” he said. “This tree has been bled some time ago and those marks are the scars that have healed over.”

He then explained the characteristics by which the hevea trees could be readily identified. The bark, for instance, was fairly smooth, and the long leaves grew in little clusters of three.

They walked on rapidly winding to right and to left so as to find all the trees growing in a wide belt of country, but kept a straight course toward the east.

After a while the guide stopped suddenly.

“Do you know where we are?” he asked.

“Yes, I think so,” David replied.

“Where is camp?”

“That way,” and David pointed north.

“You’re wrong, but it’s my fault. I should have told you before; the best way to mark your trail in the jungle is to bend down twigs as you go along. The under sides of the leaves are much lighter than the upper sides, so you can see them a long way off. Watch!”

He snapped a small branch and the two walked on. Looking back, David could easily distinguish the light, silvery under surface of the leaves on the branch that had been bent.

After that he snapped twigs frequently, leaving a well-defined trail in back of them.

They had spent nearly three hours in the forest and had penetrated a distance of fully four miles.

“This will be enough trees to start with,” the Brazilian said, stopping. “I have spotted two hundred and fifty of them and they will keep you busy until you learn more about the work. After a while you can go as much further as you like. A good man works five or six hundred trees. But you will have your hands full with these now.”

“What do I have to do?” David asked. “How do you milk a rubber tree?”

“They are not milked,” the man replied with a superior air. “They are bled. We will take this one for an example. Watch what I do. Look closely and ask me any questions you want to.”

He took the long-handled ax and standing on the tips of his toes made a number of quick cuts in the bark as high up as he could reach. Two incisions were always made together to form a V, and the blade was not driven straight into the bark but at an angle so that the cut had slanting edges.

After encircling the tree-trunk with these marks--about ten inches apart, the ring of them being over ten feet above the ground, the man stopped to explain their purpose. They were made merely to stimulate the flow of sap or latex. Each cut was a wound to the tree; it would rush a stream of sap to the spot to cleanse it, keep out insects and dust and to seal it until it could grow together again. That was nature’s way of protecting the tree when it was injured and while healing was in progress.

If the tree were wounded in too many places at the same time it would be unable to cope with the situation and would die of the shock. But if the injuries were inflicted in gradually increasing numbers it would build up a strong defense by storing a large quantity of sap, ready to be rushed to any part of the trunk to clean new abrasions and protect them so soon as they were inflicted.

Three or four days would be required to bring about this state of affairs in most cases, although in some trees it would take a week.

That would be David’s first task--to make circles of incisions each morning to stimulate the trees to action.

Next, he was told the rules that had to be observed in tapping the trees. The cuts must be ten inches apart and each new ring must be ten inches below the last one. Also, the position of each incision had to be halfway between those above, so that two days’ work would look like this

V V V V V V V V

Only one other thing remained to be told. No tree was to be disturbed unless it had a circumference of six spans half a meter above the ground.

When, on the fourth or fifth day, the milk began to flow in quantity sufficient to be collected, a strip of tough palm midrib was tied around the trunk near the base. One side was pushed down a few inches; when the milk ran down the trunk it was stopped by the girdle and flowing along it soon reached the lowest part where a large leaf folded into a cone was suspended to receive it.

It all looked very simple and David was sure he would have no trouble in following the instructions given him. On the return journey he snapped twigs continually so that he could easily find his way over the same route the next day.

He was back on the trail early, starting at the same time as the others, who branched away in all directions. The long-handled ax was in his hands and the revolver, which he now always carried, was in its holster at his side. Most of the men had a firearm of some kind; others had bows and arrows, in the use of which they were proficient, having learned the art from the Indians.

There was no trouble in picking up the trail of the previous day, and the bent twigs with the silvery under side of the leaves showing plainly, made it easy to follow the route that had been selected for him.

As he came to each rubber tree he stopped and made the circle of V-shaped cuts so high up as he could reach with the ax. It was still early when he finished and began the homeward walk. The forest was strangely silent save for the call of an occasional bird in the distance.

As he was covering his route for the second time he noticed that the cuts he had made the day before were covered with beads and rivulets of whitish gum. Some of it had trickled down a few inches on the trunk before hardening. That was encouraging and he hastened to make the second ring of incisions below the first.

This was continued daily for a period of five days and by that time the sap was flowing so abundantly that the ground at the foot of the trees was covered with it. The girdles and leaf-cups were now put in position and it was with a feeling of eagerness that David started on his journey the following morning, this time carrying a large tin pail in addition to the ax.

Each folded leaf contained from one to two ounces of the milky sap. They were emptied into the bucket and the leaves were replaced at the lowest part of the belt. New cuts were made in the trees for the next day’s supply.

When Jones reached the end of his line the pail was nearly full and he had to walk carefully in order not to spill any of the precious fluid. Also, it was very heavy. As he walked along slowly, an idea came to him. Why had he begun to collect the milk at the near end of the trail? That meant carrying the filled pail all the way back! By starting at the far end the pail would not be full until he was nearly back in camp and so the carry would be a short one.

After the midday meal, which was most uninviting as it consisted of the eternal dried beef, rice and beans, all boiled together so that they formed a thick, brown mass, he went to one of the smokehouses to prepare his day’s catch.

This structure, like the others used for the purpose, was almost entirely enclosed; that is, the palm leaves, of which the roof was composed, hung down in a ragged fringe until they touched the ground. The ends were closed with other leaves fastened to cross pieces of bamboo. There was only one small opening that served as a doorway, but light entered the interior through the numerous little holes between the leaves.

The smoke was so dense that at first David could see nothing. His eyes began to smart and tears rolled down his cheeks. The smoke threatened to suffocate him and, coughing violently, he began to grope blindly for the doorway.

“Stoop down, _caboclo_,” someone called to him and he obeyed mechanically. The air was clear lower down; in fact, the smoke hovered in a thick cloud near the top of the structure, its lower edge four feet above the earth floor.

David had recognized the voice that had called to him. It was Miguel’s. And the word _caboclo_ meant a sort of worthless fellow and was always used derisively. But he was in no condition to resent the insult just then, so pretended not to have noticed it.

When his eyes had cleared he could make out a number of men squatting near their smudges, each engaged in smoking his day’s harvest of rubber sap. There being several unused fireplaces he went to one of them and set down his pail. Then he went to one of the men--one he had taught to swim and dive, and asked questions, watching him proceed with his work the while. The process was a very simple one, so he soon returned to his place, started a fire between the stones and when the dry sticks were blazing he placed upon them several of the large palm nuts used to produce the smudge.

Soon the smoke was rolling upward in a broad, white column; then he placed one of the tall, cone-shaped tins over it so that it now poured out of the opening in the pointed end in a small though dense stream.

The milk was emptied into a wide, shallow pan. A pole five feet long and having a circumference of six inches was suspended by one end from the rafters with a strong cord. He took the loose end in one hand, swung the pole over the pan, dipped up some of the milk with a gourd dipper and poured it over the central part of the pole. A good deal of it adhered to the wood but the greater part of it ran down again into the pan. Then he quickly swung the pole so that the part covered with sap was directly over the tin cone; the acrid smoke pouring out of it instantly converted the milk into rubber by congealing and darkening it.

In a short time he became very proficient in the operation. The pole was kept swinging back and forth constantly; when it was above the pan it received a fresh coat of milk and when it swung over the smoke a new, thin layer of rubber was formed.

It took several hours to prepare his morning’s catch. The novelty of the work made it interesting, at first. After that it was nothing but a monotonous, mechanical grind and David was glad when the last drops had been scooped out of the pan and added to the slowly forming ball on the pole. All the others had finished their work long before that time and were lolling about camp.

David went to his quarters for his lasso. There were still several hours before nightfall and he would use them in practice with the rope; it was absolutely necessary that he become expert in its use before returning to the ranch.

Again and again the coil was swung over his head and sent speeding at a conveniently situated stump that served as a target. More often than not the loop fell wide of the mark. He was so engrossed in his occupation that he had not noticed the little group of men that had gathered to watch his efforts.

“He will never learn anything. Just look at that! missed it four meters.” David knew that the voice belonged to Miguel, without turning to look at the speaker. “I told you he was a _caboclo_,” the latter continued.

David pretended not to hear. He whipped up the noose with a snap and prepared it for another throw.

“And he’s worse than that. If anybody called me a caboclo I’d fight.” Miguel had been encouraged by David’s silence and was adding insult to injury.

That was too much for David. He dropped the rope and in a few quick strides reached the man who had so openly challenged him.

“Look here,” he said very quietly, “don’t you ever get the idea that I’m afraid of you--or anyone else either. This is not the first time you tried to make trouble; but it’s going to be the last time. Understand?”

The even tones deceived Miguel. The only kind of fighting he knew was always preceded by loud, fiery arguments. The American was clearly evading the issue.

“Well,” he said with a sneer, “what are you going to do about it?”

“This!” David’s right fist shot out like a bolt and sent the troublemaker flat on his back.

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