CHAPTER XVII

THE TERROR OF THE ISLAND

David and Miguel spent the night in the thick growth into which they had fought their way upon the coming of darkness. Their narrow escape from the savages; the long vigil in the bamboo clump; the day and two nights without food; and the uncertainty of their present plight, all combined to bring about a state of exhaustion that should have induced sleep so soon as they became convinced that the pursuit was not likely to extend to their side of the river.

Sleep, however, did not come. The night was cold; it was the first warning of the coming change of seasons and the two men were numb long before the sun rose to dispel the chill gloom that had enveloped them.

Daylight showed their surroundings to be not materially different from the ones they had just left on the other side of the river. There were the same kinds of trees, the same matted, thorny undergrowth; but the tangle was even denser--more nearly impenetrable.

“Let’s start a fire,” David said, shaking and trembling with the cold.

“No,” Miguel answered. His teeth, too, were rattling. “Not here, on account of the smoke; the Indians would see it.”

“Indians or no Indians, I’m freezing,” David protested.

“We’ll start walking right away. That will warm us up. The sun is coming up, too. Soon it will be hot.”

They began to battle their way through the thickets and before long were perspiring from their exertions. The growth was generally so difficult to penetrate that they made slow progress.

In one of the more open places they came upon a pair of large forest partridges; they were nearly the size of hens. Also they were stupid birds, and after Miguel had shot one of them the other remained looking at the men in curiosity, until a second arrow added it to their bag.

“We ought to be far below the fall now,” David suggested. “Let’s go to the water; it might be easier walking. We can look across first to see if the Indians have come down this far.”

Miguel offered no objection, so they made their way to the edge of the stream. They waited in hiding for some time but saw no sign of the savages. Far up the river, however, a cloud of smoke was ascending high above the treetops. The brown men of the forest had started fires in the hope of driving them out of their place of concealment.

“It’s all right,” Miguel said, gazing intently at the smoke. “They’re still over there looking for us. They think we climbed a tree and are trying to smoke us out. We can go on.”

The abrupt walls of the gorge on their side of the river were breaking down rapidly; on the other side they still towered high above the turbulent water.

Stone and sand terraces replaced the thick jungle from which they had just emerged. But the thing that puzzled them was that the land seemed to end in a point just ahead. There appeared to be water in front and on both sides of them.

Each looked at the other in silent apprehension, but not a word was spoken. They hastened down the open strip of land to its termination and then their fears were verified.

A roaring rapid surged past on each side and met in front to form one broad, even more treacherous stream that sped away below. They were on an island. With this realization came also the knowledge that there was no escape from their present position, for no raft could long survive in the maelstrom that surrounded them.

They could return to the mainland, it is true, by way of the precarious path under the fall; but there were the Indians to be considered, who would not give up the search for days, perhaps, even knowing where the fugitives had gone and fully aware of the fact that they had to come back the same way or remain marooned on the island.

“Let’s cook the birds and eat,” David suggested. “I’m almost starved.”

“The same here,” Miguel assented. “Then we’ll sleep. I can’t think now. Nothing we can do will make the fix we’re in any worse. So let’s eat and sleep. Tomorrow is another day.”

And when the sun was high in the heavens on the following day they awoke much refreshed. They followed the riverbank, going up-stream on the far side of the island, for it had occurred to them that they might not be stranded after all. The channel they had discovered was perhaps another river instead of a branch of the one they had crossed.

They walked close to the bank, for there the ground was open. When they had gone less than a mile, farther progress was blocked; they had reached the head of what was, after all, an island.

“It _is_ an island, all right,” David said. “See where the stream divides and one side is as bad as the other.”

“We have to get off somehow,” Miguel returned, “because we can’t use a raft in that water. We have to reach the mainland and then walk down below the rapids. But how are we going to do it?”

“I’ll tell you,” David proposed; “how about crossing under the fall at night and slipping down the gorge. We can travel after dark and hide in the daytime until we’re too far away for the Indians to follow.”

Miguel, while not enthusiastic over the plan, could offer no other to take its place, so they made their way to the other side to have a good view of the lay of the land and to form their plans accordingly.

There were now no Indians in sight on the opposite bank, nor were there any signs of their presence. Therefore, they clambered down the side of the bluff to the edge of the waterfall.

The water had fallen a great deal since they had come across. Instead of the thick stream shooting far out over the ledge, there was now a greatly reduced volume, so that it fell in a cascade that closely hugged the rock wall. The passage underneath the fall was closed. Their one avenue of escape to the mainland was blocked.

“There’s only one thing to do,” Miguel said in disgust, “and that is to make ourselves as comfortable as possible until we can think of some way to get off the island or until something unexpected happens.”

David agreed that there was no other course to pursue, and the lower end of the island being the more open, they decided to make camp there. They cleared a small space in the edge of the jungle, cut four saplings for corner-posts and built a rather substantial shelter, covered with a layer of palm-leaves on top and on all four sides, leaving only one opening for a doorway. Bunks were arranged along the walls and a fireplace built in front, of stones brought up from the riverbank.

The domicile was designedly of sturdy construction for they did not know how long they would be compelled to occupy it.

Then followed two days devoted to a thorough exploration of the island. It was small, not over three-quarters of a mile long, and less than a third as wide. Birds of many species were abundant and there was no difficulty in procuring all the meat that was needed. But there were no mammals of any size; if there had been monkeys in the tree-tops, or deer, tapirs or peccaries in the forest they soon should have found them, or at least seen traces of their presence. The turbulent character of the water surrounding them accounted for this. The birds, of course, could fly across, but no mammal could swim across the barrier of agitated water.

On the second night after they had built the hut, David awoke with a start. The awakening was so sudden that he felt there must be a reason for it, although there was not a sound upon the still, cool air. However, a disagreeable odor filled the room. He lay quietly for some minutes with the uncanny feeling that he was being watched by some living creature and that, too, from no great distance.

David knew that the best policy under such circumstances, was to remain perfectly motionless. A sudden move might invite attack.

As he waited, wondering what could be the cause of his presentiment, Miguel suddenly sat up.

“I can’t stand it any longer,” he cried. “There’s----”

The sentence remained unfinished. His words were drowned by a rustling, creaking noise and the hut shook as if about to collapse. A moment later they heard the sound of a heavy body rushing away through the jungle.

“Good heavens,” David exclaimed in consternation. “What can it be? There are no animals on the island. Let’s start a fire.”

Miguel was so frightened he could hardly move.

“I don’t know,” he whispered, “unless it is the evil one himself.”

“It was something a lot more real than that. But what?” David replied.

They started a fire and remained near it the remainder of the night, discussing their strange visitor, but reaching no conclusion as to what it could have been.

Daylight revealed the fact that their shelter had been badly battered. They searched the ground for foot-prints but found none. There was not the slightest clue to give any intimation of the solution of the mystery.

After a hasty breakfast, they started on a systematic search of the island, cutting a number of straight trails across from one side to the other, but still they found not the least sign of the presence of an animal of any kind. However, Miguel did discover a species of palm, the large terminal bud of which was delicious eaten raw, and another kind of the same trees which gave quantities of white sap or milk of fine flavor; they had only to tap it in the fashion of a rubber tree. These two articles were a most welcome addition to their food supply of meat that had begun to pall. Also, they provided the vegetable matter so necessary to their well-being.

That night the men took turns in watching throughout the hours of darkness, but the nocturnal prowler did not return. They supposed, therefore, that they had frightened the creature away, whatever it could have been, and this thought afforded them a measure of relief.

“I’ll tell you what we could do,” David said the following morning. “We could get material together for a raft and start to build it. It will keep us occupied and perhaps we can make one strong enough to run the rapids without breaking apart.”

Miguel shook his head. “Impossible,” he said. “No raft or boat of any kind could do it. Look at the rocks; look at the whirlpools; look at the swift current. There might even be more falls below. But we can make one anyway. It will keep us busy, and--say, I just thought of something. In the rainy season, when the water is high, there won’t be any rapids, or at least they will be only very mild, and we could use the raft then.”

David could have shouted for joy. Now that Miguel had mentioned it, he, too, realized that higher water would cover the rocks and obliterate the narrow, angry channels between them as well as blot out the whirlpools.

They lost no time in starting to collect material for their craft. First, they selected a clump of tall, feathery bamboo near the water’s edge and began to cut down the stems. Each pole was upward of forty feet long and six inches thick; and, as the joints of which they were composed were filled with water, they had to tap each one to permit the liquid to drain; otherwise they would be too heavy to float. The afternoon was half over when they began the latter task.

“How about getting something for supper?” David asked. “This job makes me feel as if I could eat a dozen partridges.”

“And me,” Miguel agreed, “and a few palm buds and a _liter_ of milk, too.”

The two started away, stealthily following one of the narrow trails they had made and had no difficulty in securing a number of the stupid tinamou that were so plentiful. To collect the palm buds and milk required a greater length of time, and darkness had fallen when they retraced their steps to camp. However, a full moon, high in the heavens, sent soft shafts of light through the branches overhead, where the jungle was less dense; and when they reached the edge of the forest where their camp was located, a flood of silvery moonlight met their eyes.

“Santo Paulo! Our house is gone!” It was Miguel’s voice, filled with consternation. He was in the lead and had stopped suddenly, hands raised in horror at the unexpected sight.

“Gone?” David pushed forward, incredulous that such a thing could have happened. “It can’t be gone because there was no wind to blow it away.”

“But it _is_ gone. Look! Where is it?” Miguel was still standing where he had stopped.

“We must be in the wrong place, but, no, this is the spot.” David was puzzled. He approached cautiously.

“It’s been broken down to the ground,” he exclaimed. “Somebody or something has been here while we were away.”

They dared not advance into the clearing where the shelter had stood because there was the possibility that their marauding visitor was in the neighborhood, awaiting their return. But from their position they could see that the structure had been crushed to the earth and completely wrecked, as if by men or some gigantic animal.

After watching a while they returned to the heavier forest to spend the night.

“I told you it was a spirit,” Miguel insisted, “when it visited us that first night. Now do you believe it?”

“No, I don’t.”

“Then what is it?”

“I don’t know, but we’ll find out.”

They rebuilt the hut on the same spot. The island was so small that one place was as good as another and the old location possessed the advantage of having been cleared of underbrush.

The remainder of the day had been spent collecting material for the raft. After the water had drained out of the bamboo poles the holes had to be sealed with gum taken from trees. After that the light, buoyant stems had to be fastened together to form the raft and having no nails it was necessary to tie them together. Only one material was available for the purpose and that was bark.

They gathered armfuls of the long, shaggy fiber that hung like a fringe from the trunks of the _chiqui-chiqui_ palms and placed them in a heap near the hut. By the time sufficient of the material had been collected it was too late to begin braiding it into ropes.

After a supper of the usual fare the two concealed themselves in the edge of the forest to watch for the possible return of their unwelcome visitor.

Hour after hour passed, but there was no disturbance of any kind. It was evident that they were not to be molested that night, so they returned to the shelter.

No sooner had Miguel entered the doorway than he gave a shriek and darted out again. He staggered a few steps and fell headlong to the ground.

David picked up the limp form of his companion and carried it toward the open beach, but the man recovered and struggled to his feet.

“Oh!” he gasped. “It’s in there now. It almost got me.”

David tried to find out what it was Miguel had seen, but the latter talked incoherently so that it was impossible to make out the meaning of his words. He thought that his companion was greatly exaggerating the truth; perhaps he had seen nothing at all and had merely imagined the presence of some weird being conjured by his superstitious mind. He would decide the matter by going to see for himself. To strengthen the latter conclusion, nothing had come out of the hut and there was no sound within.

David drew his revolver and held it in readiness for instant action. Then he lighted a bunch of the palm fiber and holding it aloft, went slowly toward the structure.

When he reached the doorway he thrust the flaming torch in first and raised it above his head. The glare lighted up the interior of the small room, but for a moment only.

David stood paralyzed in his tracks when he saw the thing that had invaded their domicile. From the center of the palm-leaf thatch that formed the ceiling and drooping almost to the ground were the head and part of the body of an enormous snake. It hung suspended in space, as motionless as if carved out of variegated marble. As he looked in horror, the great reptile raised its massive head slowly, at the same time drawing it back like a bent spring, as if to strike. Its beady eyes were fixed on those of the man and the forked tongue moved rapidly in and out of its mouth. As it did this it emitted a long hiss that sounded like a jet of escaping steam.

David recovered his senses in a flash. He would have to act quickly. If the reptile’s head shot forward it would knock him down like the blow of a battering ram.

Without moving the flaming torch, he raised his right hand slowly and took careful aim at the great head not two yards away, his finger tightening on the trigger until the slightest further pressure would cause its release. Then came a flash and a deafening crack. He dropped the blazing fagot and ran out upon the open bank where Miguel was sitting, still too dazed for speech.

When he stopped he became aware of a thrashing noise, coming from the direction of the hut; then the entire structure fell with a crash--on top of the bunch of palm fiber now flickering its last.

Soon little tongues of fire leaped up, lapping eagerly at the dry leaves of which their shelter had been composed. In a moment the entire heap was a mass of flames that lighted up the scene as bright as day. And in the midst of the conflagration he saw the writhing, lashing coils of the giant serpent that did not cease their movements, even after the fire had died down to a pile of feebly glowing embers.

##