CHAPTER XIV

THE RESCUE FROM THE ANT ARMY

When David failed to return to camp at the usual time little was thought of it by those who noticed his absence. It was not until the foreman came around on his daily tour of inspection of the smokehouses that mention was made of it. It was then past mid-afternoon.

“You, Mariano, go to the _dormitorio_ to see if he is there,” he said. “He may be sick.”

Mariano dropped his work and hurried out. Soon he returned.

“He is not there,” he said, “and the cook said he has not come in yet. He’s been waiting for him.”

“Wonder what’s keeping him,” the foreman said uneasily. “Did he say anything to anybody this morning about going farther than usual?”

A chorus of “No, Senhor,” and “Not to me” came in response to the inquiry.

The chief bit his lip.

“I’ll be back soon,” he said. “If he comes let me know at once. Don’t go away when you are through with your work. I may need all of you.”

A half hour passed and still there was no sign of the missing David. The foreman came in--visibly agitated.

“Get ready, every last one of you,” he ordered. “Either the boy is lost or met with some accident. You must find him. Shout as you go and those of you who have guns fire them. Scatter out far and wide over the country. Those of you who find or see nothing come back after dark. I will pay twenty-five milreis to the man who finds him or brings back the first news of him. Now get your bottles; the cook will fill them with coffee and give you each a package of food. Then hurry away up the trail.”

The men departed immediately to do as they were directed. Not long after, they filed into the forest, alert for any sign or clue that would be of value to them in looking for the missing man. From time to time some of them branched off the main path until they had spread out in a fan-shaped formation that combed the forest in a thorough manner so far as it went. They kept calling and occasionally there was the report of a gun.

Before long, however, they were out of hearing of one another. Therefore, it was not until long after dark, when the last man had straggled back into camp, that they knew that the search had been fruitless.

The new trail that David had started that morning had been discovered, but darkness had come before it could be followed to its end; and they brought back the empty pail--nothing more.

The uneasiness of mid-afternoon now gave way to consternation. A hundred explanations were forthcoming to account for his disappearance. Everyone seemed greatly concerned, but most of all Dom Carlos, the camp foreman. From the obscure position of “nobody” David had suddenly risen to be the most important person in the outfit. In contrast to the aloofness with which he had still been regarded by a few of the men, they now all joined in extolling his courage and good qualities and pledged themselves that he must be found at all hazards. The monetary reward was tripled to give further impetus to their efforts.

Six men were sent out immediately after supper to light fires in the jungle and to keep them blazing all night, to serve as beacons in the event that the wanderer should be trying to find his way in the darkness. They went in pairs and followed widely diverging trails. And when they returned at dawn the others who had slept in camp started out, this time, however, spreading in all directions to cover so much of the country as possible.

Foremost among the searchers was Miguel. He had not fully recovered from his encounter with the crocodile; his foot still pained him at times; but, thanks to David’s ministrations, he had the use of it to a considerable extent. It was he who had found the new trail and had followed it until darkness made it impossible to go farther the previous evening. He had returned the pail and collected the first reward. And now he was determined to take up the search where he had been compelled to drop it.

The men had been told to carry food for one day only and to come back that night. But the stock of provisions on Miguel’s back was sufficient for three days; and, having no gun, he carried his bow and a dozen arrows in his pack.

The grim expression on his face plainly showed that he was determined to find David; he owed him a debt of gratitude he could scarcely repay in any other manner, but, unfortunately, he had never thought of it in that light. What he did think of and looked forward to was a meeting in some far-off spot where he would have the opportunity to settle old scores, safe from the prying eyes of others.

Alone in the towering forest, with only the silent trees as witnesses, it would be easy to dispose of the one obstacle that stood between him and complete leadership of the men. Once before, when the opportunity had been within his grasp, fate had intervened to rob him of his victory; that was when the crocodile had attacked him instead of David after the latter had entered the water. Now, he had all the advantage. Better for David that he remain forever lost in the forest than be found by the vengeful Miguel.

The first day passed rapidly, for a man hunt was a new experience and it was a fascinating occupation. He scanned the forest floor, the tree-trunks, and the lower growth for any traces that would aid him in his search.

On the second afternoon Miguel found the fire where David had roasted the armadillo. That encouraged him. He was on the right track. And he redoubled his efforts, as does the hound when the scent grows hotter. His eyes glowed with a strange fire at the thought that he might at any moment catch sight of his quarry.

David had learned the truth of the saying that bad luck is apt to grow worse; Miguel had never even heard it, but that did not exempt him from its application. What both had yet to learn was that luck, particularly bad luck, was only too often the result of some act for which they were fully responsible. The beating Miguel had received and the narrowly avoided drowning had been bad enough; but worse was to come.

He awoke on the third morning to discover that his remaining food supply had disappeared during the night, and the completeness with which it had vanished made it evident that a colony of ants had done the work. That was exasperating, but there was game to be shot with arrows, so the situation was not serious.

After that came the realization that the search was extending over a wider territory and greater period of time than he had expected. And he began to wonder if he should find David, after all.

It was that night, however, that he felt the merciless judgment of the forest in all the impartial rigor which was its law. Those who sought to ferret out its secrets must pay the penalty and Miguel was no exception.

It swooped down upon him in the same guise it had assumed when it fell upon David, and while his teeth beat a tattoo, or as the hot blood coursed throbbingly through his veins, he began to comprehend the seriousness of the mission on which he had embarked, and to wonder if the purpose was worth the cost.

The fever ran its usual course. Miguel wandered about in a dazed condition and when there was finally a lull in the onslaught he found himself in an unenviable predicament. He too was lost, and for the first time in his life.

With that realization came the feeling of utter loneliness. Never before had he felt so completely forsaken, so bewildered, so hopeless. He longed for the sound of a voice, a glimpse of a friendly face, or the touch of a sympathetic hand.

It was terrible, this being lost and alone in the silent, heartless jungle that gave no quarter, that knew not the words pity or mercy. Gaunt spectres rose on every side; hideous naked Indians pierced him through with their poisoned darts; serpents struck with envenomed fangs; and jaguars of enormous size crouched behind each tree-trunk for the fatal spring.

It had always been thus. It would always be thus. The fever-crazed brain of a lone man, lost in the tropical jungle, could conjure pictures without end.

As the days passed Miguel’s desperation increased. All thoughts of malevolence vanished. If he found David now he would rush to him joyfully. It would mean companionship, perhaps even salvation. Anything, anyone to banish the horror of a living death alone in the treacherous forest.

It was at this point that Miguel heard the twittering of the ant wrens, and well he knew what their excited cries meant. They had discovered an ant army on the march and had gathered in numbers to profit by the marauders’ depredations.

The sound of their calls, even if they were only birds, came as a blessed relief to the man driven frantic by the breathless silence of the forest. To see, to be near any living thing, would be infinitely better than the dread loneliness. He would go toward the chorus of voices that his fever-dulled brain pictured as possible saviors of his reason.

Before long he reached the far-flung lines of ants that served as scouts on the flanks of the main army. The organization and discipline of the insects was as wonderful as it was terrible to the victims, for it precluded all possibility of escape.

Miguel stopped to look at the black ribbons flowing over the forest floor. Thin lines branched off from the main arteries every few yards; these explored each leaf and crevice, ascending even to the tops of the tallest trees in their insatiable quest of victims.

In front of the sweeping mass and on both sides was a horde of terror-stricken creeping, crawling and hopping creatures making frantic efforts to escape from inevitable doom. There were rhinoceros beetles with huge antler-like growths on their fore-bodies; centipedes eight inches long; scorpions wildly lashing their tails armed with poisonous curved stings; great hairy tarantulas, wood frogs, and many other living things. Some crawled to the topmost branches of the lower undergrowth of ferns and like vegetation and remained there motionless during a brief respite; but they were always discovered and routed by the ants. Others fled precipitately up the tree-trunks; and still others came out of their hiding-places only to curl up sullenly and to await the end.

Suddenly the ant army divided. Scouts had in some mysterious manner brought back the intelligence of an unusual find and the main column had promptly responded with reinforcements. Miguel saw and understood. At the same time, the ant birds that had first attracted his attention set up a furious chatter. Here was the opportunity to see something of an unusual nature.

Miguel crawled upon a great prostrate tree-trunk in order to have a better view of what was going on. It was toward this log that the ants were rushing in a black sheet. And it was there the birds were scolding in anguish.

About the first thing Miguel saw when he attained the top of the log was the body of a man lying on the ground as if dead. The hands covered the face so that he could not see it, but he recognized the clothing and knew that it could belong to none other than David Jones.

“_Camarada!_” he cried, at the same time dropping down beside the motionless figure. “It is I, Miguel, who have found you. _Por dios_, and just in time.”

It required all his depleted strength to raise David to his feet; then he took the limp form in his arms and slowly carried it to safety--out of reach of the ravenous horde that sensed the intrusion and sent skirmishing lines dashing in all directions in frantic efforts to locate the prize so suddenly snatched from its grasp.

David opened his eyes slowly. When he saw the man who had just deposited him on the ground, puffing hard from his exertion, he stared in amazement. Then the remembrance of something dreadful came back to him in a flash. He weakly raised his arms and placed his hands over his face.

“Oh, the ants, the ants,” he moaned. “They are all over me. I can feel their bites--they are killing me and--I can’t get away. I can’t get over the log.”

“No, they’re not,” Miguel panted, trying to soothe him. “You are safe now. I will not let them get you. Look, there isn’t one on you; they’re far away, on the other side of the log, and I’ll carry you farther before they come near here.”

“But I can feel them, on my hands and face--everywhere,” David persisted.

“Sh!” Miguel said. “Keep quiet and everything will be all right.”

It was some time before the delirious man could be calmed. But Miguel finally succeeded in reassuring him that the danger that had threatened was now past, and with the realization that he was safe from the ants came a measure of strength.

“I was sure something would happen--someone would find me before they got to me,” David said faintly after a while. Miguel had propped him up against the base of a tree while he plucked and prepared to roast a _mutum_ that looked like a good-sized turkey; he had just shot the bird in the tree right over their heads. “I never gave up hope and, Miguel, I’m glad it was you who found me.”

“Me?” in surprise. “Why did you want me to find you?”

“I don’t know. I just wanted it to be you--maybe just to prove to the others that we could be good friends if it came down to rock bottom.”

“Umph!” Miguel’s thoughts were travelling in strange channels. He felt queer as he thought of the purpose he had in mind when he started on the long search. What if he had found David the first few days after leaving camp?

“I’m glad I found you, too, when I did,” he said. “But neither one of us has anything much to be glad about.”

“What do you mean? I feel better already. And I’m hungry. We can start back tomorrow if I can eat as much of that bird as I think I can. They told me that you’re the best bushman in the crowd, so we’ll take a short cut back to camp,” David said confidently.

“That’s just it! I didn’t want to tell you right away, but now I can’t help it. We can’t start back to camp because--because--” Miguel hesitated as if reluctant to proceed. “We can’t start back because I’m lost, too.”

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