CHAPTER XIII

ADRIFT IN THE FOREST

That night each one of the men who had witnessed the encounter of the afternoon described it in minutest detail to the others who had not been present. Even the Indians learned of it and came over in a body to hear the story told and retold, and then returned to their own shelters to discuss it far into the night.

David was embarrassed by this great amount of attention.

“It was nothing,” he assured them. “Each one of you would have done the same thing if you had had a rope.”

“No, we wouldn’t,” they said, “especially if he had treated us the way he did you. He started it and was taking you there hoping you would be----”

“Never mind that part of it. It’s all over now and, as I said before, it was nothing. I’m sure Miguel was only joking.”

Miguel sat brooding through it all and David could not fail to notice it.

“He’s sorry he put the ants into my rubber,” he thought with a smile. “Well, there won’t be any more of them for a few days at least, because he won’t be able to walk for a while. And, even when he can walk again, he can’t possibly be mean enough to play any more pranks like that on me.”

It was therefore with a light heart that he started over his route the next morning. He had first looked at Miguel’s foot; it was swollen, but showed no signs of infection; so he washed and dressed it and told the man that if he remained in his hammock for a few days he would be all right. Miguel submitted to the ministrations and advice without a word. He seemed eager to have David care for his injured foot, but if he appreciated the attentions he received he gave no evidence of it.

“He certainly is a queer character, but as Tiny Tim said, ‘God bless us every one.’ I can’t figure him out,” David thought as he left the shack.

The first few trees he visited had not been tampered with. The little cups were full of the precious, snowy liquid. He was positive now that his conjecture had been right. Miguel was the culprit; as he had not been able to visit the route the day before the catch had not been spoiled.

Then great was his consternation to find that the very next cup was filled with a little cake of curdled latex, as before; and upon cutting it open he found the decapitated ants.

Miguel was not the guilty one, after all. But who was? Someone was certainly responsible for the state of affairs. The ants could not drop their heads and then plunge into the white liquid that served as their graves.

Continuing his walk along the trail, he found that numerous other trees had been visited by the prowler that did so much harm, the same trees in most instances as before. There was now no one whom David could suspect and the solution of the mystery seemed hopeless. But he would outwit them all. Without saying a word to anyone, he would select a new line and tap the trees, being careful not to leave a blazed trail that would be so easy to follow.

He began to collect the sap and threw the curdled pieces away as he turned his steps campward.

Then a peculiar thing happened, so unexpected that it was startling. He had just rounded a bend in the trail. Ten yards ahead of him stood a thick hevea tree scarred by the cuts he had made. A flickering movement caught his eye; it was near the folded cup that served to catch the sap. Stopping in his tracks he looked intently at the little container, but saw nothing. He stood a full minute without removing his gaze from the spot, and just as he began to think that the flickering object had been a falling leaf his persistence was rewarded.

A long, curved beak, followed by a brown head and two bright eyes, appeared cautiously around the tree trunk. David did not move. After a moment’s pause a brown bird about eight inches long hopped into view; it looked like a woodpecker, clinging to the bark with its feet and using its tail as a prop to sit on when it stopped to rest. David recognized it as a woodhewer, of which there were many species in the forest.

The bird now hopped along fearlessly and for the first time the man noticed that it held something in its beak. It made straight for the cup and dropped the object it had been carrying into it. Immediately after, it flew away; a few undulating dashes through the air and it had alighted on the base of a neighboring tree and at once began to hop nimbly up the straight trunk. Soon it disappeared into a hole high overhead, which was apparently the entrance to its nesting cavity. In a moment it came out again and, clinging to the bark, hammered vigorously some object it had brought out of the cavity; then it flew to the nearest hevea and dropped the morsel into the little pool of sap forming in the leaf-cup.

David watched the bird make several more trips between its nest and the nearby rubber trees. The mystery was solved. It was catching the ants that invaded its domicile, pounding off their heads against the rough bark and then disposing of the remains by dropping them into the nearest pool of liquid it could find, possibly to make doubly sure that they would not again come to life to disturb it. If the nearest pool happened to be a cup of latex the bird, of course, used it and David suffered thereby.

The woodhewers were plentiful in the forest, which accounted for the fact that so many trees had been visited by them. He wondered why the men had not told him about this.

David said nothing about his discovery when he reached camp. But that afternoon, when he had finished his work in the smokehouse, he took a long walk in the forest, visiting the routes of several of the men. He found, as he had confidently expected, that the proportion of their trees visited by the birds was as great as on his own line; but the men had made up for the loss by extending their lines and bringing new trees into bearing as fast as others had to be discarded.

This knowledge clearly pointed out to David the course he had to follow. And early the following morning found him prepared to extend his trail or open a new one. He carried his pail, as usual; in addition, the long-handled ax for tapping the new trees. His revolver and knife were in his belt.

When he reached the end of the trail he put down the pail and continued walking through the forest; the country was all new to him, but he had no difficulty in locating rubber trees. They seemed more plentiful than ever, if anything. Clumps of them stood among the palms and other tall growths.

As he penetrated farther and farther into the thick jungle he snapped or turned twigs every few steps so that there would be no trouble in finding his way back.

He had been travelling in this manner more or less steadily for the greater part of two hours and had covered a distance of three or four miles. No less than two hundred new trees had been added to his line; when they produced freely, as they would within a week, his daily catch would compare favorably with that of the best in spite of the depredations of the woodhewers.

To one side of him grew a very tall tree, towering high above its fellows; the trunk was straight and about four feet through, and David estimated that the lowest limb was fully sixty feet above the ground while the topmost twigs must have been a hundred and fifty feet above his head. There were numbers of round objects hanging from the branches. He wondered what they were, and thinking that some of them might have fallen to the ground he walked to the tree to see if he could find one.

Before long he found one of the large, cannon-ball-like objects, and upon breaking it open found a number of Brazil nuts inside. He stooped to crack one, but the blows from his knife never fell; from directly above him came the most peculiar song he had ever heard. It rose clear and ringing, setting the jungle a-tingle with its resonance, and swelling airily and easily until it seemed to penetrate the body of the listener.

_Oo-whee whee-e-e oo_ came the song, first low and plaintive, then rising to a very loud yet mellow pitch and again descending to the low, sad _oo_, finally ending in a few almost inaudible _churrs_. It sounded somewhat like the ringing of a bell.

Now, David had read about the bell birds of the South American forest and he felt that this must be one of them. Without rising, his eyes searched the branches overhead. The notes had come from so close at hand that the singer must have been in one of the lower growths, almost within reach of the man’s hand.

There was not a stir among the leaves; the bird was not moving and would be harder to locate for that reason. As David gazed into the lacy vegetation about him the song was suddenly repeated and with such startling clearness that it sounded nearer than before. He looked quickly in the direction from which it had come, but saw nothing. It was exasperating; a creature capable of producing such a volume of sound must be of considerable size. Then why could not he see it, especially since it was so close to him?

A short time later a second voice came, as if in answer to the first, but it was some distance away, reaching but faintly through the maze of vegetation on the right. David turned his head in the direction from which the new song had come, involuntarily, and at the same moment the voice of the first singer rang out even louder than before.

_Oo-whee whee-oo!_ The swelling cadence cut the silence with appalling suddenness. It was uncanny, for try as he would David could not locate the bird that was calling. Either it was an accomplished ventriloquist and was not where he expected to find it, or it was so small and inconspicuously colored that it was hard to see.

That was the last time the song was repeated in the near vicinity. Again and again the bursts of sound, rising and falling in astonishing volume, came to the bewildered listener, but now they were all in the distance. The songsters were all around him and the forest rang with their clear, penetrating notes.

“I’m going to see one of them if it takes the rest of the day,” David said between clenched teeth. “That first one was right in front of my eyes, or I couldn’t have heard it so well. Why didn’t I see it then?”

He went to the tree from which the nearest song was flowing; when he reached it there was only silence. After a moment’s wait he left the spot and went to another where several birds were calling. But they immediately hushed their voices. Then he went to another, and another. But each time he changed positions the voice he sought was quickly silenced while the jungle resounded with the others, all of which were some little distance away.

It occurred to him that his abrupt movements might be frightening the creatures, so he tried stealing noiselessly from one place to another; but still the result was the same. It was like pursuing some will-o’-the-wisp, always within reach but always unattainable.

An hour passed, but David took no note of the fleeting time. A second slipped by and a third had started into the abyss that has neither beginning nor end, when the persistence and patience of the watcher were rewarded. He saw a dark object dart from one branch to another and then clearly made out the form of the bird as it sat motionless on its thick perch. It was the size of a robin and of a uniform, slaty-black color; the latter fact explained why it was so hard to see in the gloom of the forest vault.

The bird sat quietly for several minutes while David stirred not a muscle. Then it raised its head and poured out the flood of sound that had been so baffling to the man.

“I was determined to see it, and I did; but I had no idea I was so long about it,” David mused, consulting his watch. “I’ll have to hustle now. Let’s see, just where am I?”

He looked around for a moment; the trees on all sides looked alike. In the excitement of his pursuit he had neglected to bend twigs to mark his path.

His predicament was amusing, perhaps even a trifle annoying--nothing more. A few precious minutes more would be wasted while he got his bearings and he would be just that much later in reaching camp. He did not stop to think what would happen when he got there.

“The trail is in this direction and camp is right over there,” he thought.

Having reached these conclusions he started away at a rapid pace; and he walked longer than he thought he should have to strike the trail--without striking it. But he kept on doggedly until he was forced to admit that his guess had been a mistaken one.

He stopped and again calculated carefully just which direction was the right one to take; and again a fruitless, tiring walk rewarded his efforts. When he tried to get his bearings for the third time he was forced to admit to himself that he was hopelessly lost. The sun might have been of use in the emergency, but in the forest there was no sun, and night was fast approaching.

The first sensation that followed the realization that he was completely lost was one of panic. And the first impulse was to dash away frantically without heed to direction. However, David remained master of himself to the extent that he quelled these feelings; he sat down on a convenient log. He would think it over, as calmly as he could, and decide what best had be done.

It came to him clearly now. He had followed the voice of the jungle siren without the slightest regard to the direction in which he went. He had not the faintest idea how far he had gone. He did not know where his old trail or the end of the new one was; perhaps they were many miles away. In short, he was just as much lost as ever.

Finally he decided that the best procedure was to walk in gradually widening circles; at some time the circumference must bisect a point he knew. One direction was as good as another to start with, so he started, walking rapidly; and by bearing slightly to the right he was sure his steps must cover a circuitous course.

Nightfall found him still at sea as to his whereabouts. He gathered a pile of wood, started a fire and then sat down between the blaze and the butt of a thick _castanha_ tree. No sleep came to him that night. All through the hours of blackness, peopled with invisible forms and strange noises, he kept his lonely vigil, straining his ears for the shots or calls of the searching party he was sure would be sent for him.

When daylight came there was nothing to do but resume the tramp of the day before, for he had been unable to think of a better plan.

Fortunately, he came across a giant armadillo digging for grubs in a decayed stump, and promptly killed it before the stupid creature withdrew its head from the rubbish to discover his presence.

It was a monster of its kind and weighed half a hundredweight. The head, body, legs and tail were completely encased in bony armor, and the claws it used in procuring its food would have measured eight inches long.

David built a fire on the spot and soon pieces of the tender white flesh, roasted thoroughly, were satisfying the hunger of two days’ duration. He cooked every morsel, wrapped what he did not eat in leaves, and then fastened the pack to his back with strips of bark. It might be days before another opportunity to procure food so easily presented itself.

When the third day had passed the seriousness of his position came to David in an unexpected manner. The thing that caused him to stop suddenly while a feeling of terror came over him was the first sign of oncoming fever.

That dread scourge of the tropical jungle struck without warning and David had read and heard enough about it to recognize it at the first onslaught--a feeling of utter exhaustion, followed by chills that made his teeth chatter even though the vegetation, high overhead, was wilting in the glare of the brassy sun. His entire body trembled violently as he sank in a heap to the ground. After that came a burning fever, so that for an hour he tossed in intense agony.

The attack finally subsided, leaving him limp and helpless. After a time he gathered enough strength to kindle a fire, beside which he spent a miserable night.

Once he sank into a light sleep; he was awakened by the sound of shuffling footsteps in the dry leaves. Some large animal was watching him, although he could not see it in the darkness. He threw wood on the fire and as the flames leaped up there was a heavy crashing in the underbrush as the startled creature dashed away.

The malady returned at increasingly frequent intervals, like some insidious enemy sure of its victim but in no undue haste to accomplish its vile purpose. David could not bear up under the repeated attacks. At the end of a week he was too ill to continue the ceaseless and now hopeless tramp that took him nowhere.

His food had given out; and he had no desire to eat even if there had been food in abundance. His one thought was of companionship; with someone near him the whole frightful experience would not be so hard to bear--even if it came to the worst. But alone, with only the gloomy forest and its furtive wild folk about him, it was terrifying. His thoughts wandered to far-off things, especially to those he had insisted on leaving back at home. Then he remembered his enthusiasm when first he had seen the Amazonian jungle from the deck of the steamer. It had seemed to challenge him; he remembered that distinctly. “Come if you dare,” it had said, “and I will overwhelm you.”

Full of confidence in his own ability he had accepted the bold defiance hurled at him by the mystery-enshrouded walls of green. He had lost, but he had only himself to blame.

Not a word of complaint escaped his lips. While there was life there was hope; he would sleep a while, if possible, or at any rate rest for a time. Then he would take up the fight anew. His head would be clearer and some way was bound to occur to him that would get him out of the difficulty.

Oblivion came quickly--too quickly, in fact, to portend anything of a wholesome nature; and for an hour he lay quiet as death. He was awakened from his stupor by fiery stings in one hand that had been stretched out far from his body. He drew it toward him and raised it unsteadily to see what was causing the pain. Several large, black ants were clinging to it, their vise-like mandibles embedded deeply in his skin. With a great effort he tore away the ferocious insects and raised himself on his elbows. What he saw caused a cry of horror to escape his lips.

An ant army, the most relentless of all the creatures that infest the tropical forest, was approaching. Already the leading files had discovered him; some had attacked without delay, while others had hurried back to the main column to convey the news of their find.

David summoned all the strength at his command in an effort to rise to his feet. But the exertion was in vain, and after several futile attempts he knew that escape was impossible. However, he might ward off the end if----

Slowly and laboriously he tried rolling over the ground. It was hard work, but finally he succeeded in making a complete turn. A pause for rest, then another turn and a distance of nearly three yards had been gained on the avalanche of ants that was sweeping towards him. Perhaps he could evade the insatiable horde after all; but when he struggled to roll again it seemed that his last chance had vanished, for directly in his path was an obstacle he could not surmount in the form of a fallen tree that blocked all progress for a distance of fifty feet each way.

The realization that escape was cut off in the one direction that had seemed open came as a disheartening shock. He lay back limp and helpless; to his ears came the sound of the insects swarming over the dry leaves, like the patter of a shower of rain. His brain reeled and the blood roared in his veins. In desperation he covered his face with his hands.

“Lord,” he prayed, “I’m not blaming anybody but myself for getting into this, but if I get out of it I’ll know You helped.”

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