The Rover of the Andes, Robert Michael Ballantyne [my reading book .TXT] 📗

imaginary arrow fly, looked at the savage, touched his own breast, and smiled.

So did Quashy, with compound interest. Spotted Tiger looked puzzled, shook his head, and also smiled.

"He t'ink you wants him to shoot you," said Quashy.

"No, no, that's not it," said Lawrence, with a somewhat abashed look at the Indian. "I want you to take us out shooting--hunting, you know--_hunting_."

As Tiger did _not_ know the word "hunting" he continued to shake his head with a puzzled air.

Every one who has tried it knows what a silly, almost imbecile, feeling comes over one when one attempts the communication of ideas in dumb show. Feelings of this sort affected our hero very keenly. He therefore, while continuing the pantomime, kept up a running or interjectional accompaniment in the English language.

"Look here, Tiger," he said, impressively, taking up two sticks which he made to represent a bow and arrow, and placing them in position, "I want to go hunting with you--hunting--shooting the jaguar."

"Yes, de jaguar--tiger, you know," said Quashy, who, in his anxiety to get the savage to understand, imitated his master's actions, and could not refrain from occasionally supplementing his speech.

As a tiger-skin chanced to be hanging on a bush near to the fire, Lawrence completed his pantomime by throwing his mimic arrow against that.

A gleam of intelligence suffused the face of the savage. Stalking into his hut, he returned with a bow considerably longer than himself, and an arrow, also of great length. Retiring to a distance from the jaguar-skin above referred to, he bent his bow quickly, and sent an arrow straight through the middle of it, thereafter raising himself with a look of pride.

"Why, the fellow thinks I want him to show off his powers of shooting," said Lawrence.

"So he do--de idjit!" said Quashy.

With much anxiety of expression, great demonstration of vigorous action, and many painful efforts of inventive genius, the two men tried to convey their wishes to that son of the soil, but all in vain. At last in desperation Quashy suddenly seized the jaguar-skin, threw it over his own shoulders, placed a long pole in Lawrence's hands, and said--

"Now, massa, you look out, I's agwine to spring at you, and you stick me."

He uttered a mighty roar as he spoke, and bounded towards his master, who, entering at once into the spirit of the play, received him on the point of his spear, whereupon the human jaguar instantly fell and revelled for a few seconds in the agonies of death. Then he calmly rose.

"Now," said he, with a look of contempt, "if he no understan' dat, it's 'cause he hain't got no brains."

At first the Indian had gazed at this little scene with a look of intense astonishment. When it was finished he burst into a fit of hearty laughter. Evidently it was the best piece of acting he had seen since he was born, and if he had been other than a savage, he must certainly have shouted "bravo!" perhaps "encore!" and clapped his hands.

"Boh! he's a born idjit!" cried Quashy, turning away in disgust, but a new idea seemed to flash into his fertile brain.

"Stop a bit!" he suddenly exclaimed, seizing a piece of flat bark that lay at his feet. On this, with the point of a charred stick, he drew a triangular form, with three dots in it for two eyes and a nose. An oval attached to this represented a body; at the other end a long waving line served for a tail; four short lines below indicated legs. This creature he covered all over with spots.

"There," he cried, sticking it into a bush, and glaring at the Indian, "jaguar!--jaguar!"

Catching up the pole which Lawrence had thrown down, he rushed at this jaguar, and pierced it through the heart. Thereafter, in hot haste, he picked up Tiger's bow and arrows, ran down to the river, put them into a small canoe, and thrust it into the water. Holding on with one hand, he waved with the other.

"Ho! hi! come along, you stuppid idjit!"

The "stuppid idjit" was enlightened at last. With a dignified smile, which would probably have been a frown if he had understood Quashy's words, he went up to his hut, and selected a lance and a bow, with which, and a quiver of arrows, he returned to the little hunting canoe.

Seeing that they were now understood, Lawrence took his shot-gun and pistols; the negro also armed himself, and in a few minutes more they found themselves paddling gently down the sluggish current of the river.

The scenery through which those curiously assorted hunters passed that day in their light canoe was singularly beautiful; and when, turning up one of the narrow streams that fed the main river, they came into a region of sweet, mellow twilight, caused by the over-arching trees, where the very aspect of nature suggested, though it could not create, coolness, Lawrence felt as if he had been at last transported into those famous regions of fairyland which, if they really existed, and we were in very deed to get into them, would, perchance, not equal, and certainly could not excel, our own actual world!

Gigantic trees towered upwards till their heads were lost in the umbrageous canopy, while their stems were clasped by powerful snake-like creepers, or adorned with flowering parasites. The bushes grew so thick and tangled that it seemed as if neither man nor beast could penetrate them--which indeed was the case, as regards man, in many places; yet here and there unexpected openings permitted the charmed eyes to rest upon romantic vistas where creepers, convolvuli, and other flowers, of every shape, hue, and size, hung in festoons and clusters, or carpeted the ground. Fruit, too, was there in abundance. Everything seemed to bear fruit. The refreshing and not too luscious prickly pear; the oukli, an enormous cactus, not unlike the prickly pear but with larger fruit, whose delightful pulp was of a blood-red colour; the ancoche, with sweet-tasted pearl-like drops, and many others.

There was plenty of animal life, also, in and around this stream, to interest the hunters, who were now obliged to exert themselves a little to make head against the sluggish current. Water-hens were innumerable, and other wild-fowl flew or paddled about, enjoying, apparently, a most luxuriant existence, while brown ant-hills were suggestive of exceedingly busy life below as well as above ground. There are many kinds of ants out there, some of them very large, others not quite so large, which, however, make up in vicious wickedness what they lack in size.

At one bend in the stream they came suddenly on a boa-constrictor which was swimming across; at another turn they discovered a sight which caused Lawrence to exclaim--

"There's a breakfast for you, Quashy. What would you say to that?"

"I'd like to hab 'im cooked, massa."

The reference was to an alligator which was crossing the stream a few yards ahead of them, with a live boa in his jaws. The huge serpent was about twelve feet long, and wriggled horribly to escape, but the monster had it fast by the middle. Evidently its doom was fixed.

Several tapirs and a band of grunting peccaries were also seen, but all these were passed without molestation, for the ambitions of our hunters that day soared to nothing less than the tiger of the American jungles-- the sneaking, lithe, strong, and much-dreaded jaguar.

Spotted Tiger seemed to have at last become fully aware of the spirit of his companions, for he took no apparent note of the various animals seen as they passed along, and evidently was on the outlook for the monarch of the jungle. Having been told by Pedro that he was a celebrated hunter, Lawrence felt sure that he would lead them to success.

"Why you no shoot de deer an' pepper de alligators, massa?" asked Quashy at last, after several of the creatures mentioned had been seen and passed.

"Because I don't want them," returned Lawrence, "and I have no pleasure in useless destruction of life. Besides, I am anxious to shoot a jaguar, having a strong wish to take home the claws and skull of one-- the first for my friends, the last for a museum. When we want food I will shoot deer, or anything else that's eatable."

Quashy remained silent. He seemed to be revolving his master's reply in a philosophical way, when something between a snarl and a growl turned his thoughts sharply into another channel.

Tiger quietly prepared his bow and arrows and laid his spears so that they should be handy. Lawrence and the negro also got ready their weapons, and then they advanced with caution, dipping their paddles lightly, and gazing earnestly into the jungle on the right bank of the stream.


CHAPTER FOURTEEN.


THE HUNT CONTINUED; ONE OF THE HUNTERS ALMOST CONCLUDED. EXPLORATIONS INDULGED IN, AND A CAPTURE EFFECTED.

"Dar, massa, dar he is," exclaimed Quashy, in a hoarse whisper, pointing into the bushes.

"Nonsense, man," replied Lawrence, in a low voice, "it's only an ant-hill."

Even in that moment of excitement, Lawrence could scarce refrain from laughter at the face of his humble follower, for Quashy's business in life had not accustomed him to much sport at any time; and the prospect of actually assisting at the slaughter of a jaguar or a puma had stirred every nerve and fibre of his black being into intense excitation, so that his eyes and nostrils were dilated to the utmost, and he panted vehemently--with hope, of course, not fear!

Tiger, on the contrary, was cool and calm, though watchful. He paid no attention whatever to his companions, being too well acquainted with his work to stand in need of either advice or assistance from them.

As guide, the savage occupied the bow of the canoe; Lawrence sat in the middle, and Quashy in the stern, for he understood how to steer. Having been admonished to hold his tongue, he crouched so as, if possible, to diminish his size. He also pursed his lips,--and what a tight rounding and projecting of superfluous flesh that pursing was no tongue can adequately tell. He also glared, and this "talking with the eyes" was a mute sermon in itself.

Yet no jaguar could be seen. Silently, with dip of paddle that made no sound, and glide of craft through the water that produced only an oily ripple, they slowly ascended the stream.

At first Lawrence had seized his fowling-piece, which was charged with ball for the occasion; but as time passed, and the Indian showed no intention of landing, he laid the gun down, and again took up his paddle.

After a time, through some inadvertence of Quashy, the canoe was sent rather close in among the reeds and giant leaves of the bank.

"That was stupid of you, Quash," said Lawrence, as he stood up to assist Tiger in backing out.

"Das true, massa," said the negro, in profoundest humility of self-condemnation, "I's a black idjit."

As the fore part of the canoe had touched on a mudbank, Lawrence seized one of the Indian's lances, and used the butt end as a pole with which to push off. Under this impulse the canoe was gradually sliding into deep water, when a rustling of the leaves was