The Rover of the Andes: A Tale of Adventure on South America, R. M. Ballantyne [world of reading .txt] 📗
- Author: R. M. Ballantyne
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Good fortune seemed to smile on them that day, for they had not advanced a hundred yards further when two large jaguars crossed their path. It is probable that they did not see the hunters, for they did not look up, but, gliding cat-like into the jungle, quickly disappeared.
Perhaps it was fortunate that Lawrence and his man recovered their presence of mind when too late, for if they had fired hastily and only wounded the creatures, it might have brought to an abrupt end their terrestrial career. As it was. Quashy recovered with a gasp, drew his two double-barrelled pistols, which in his eagerness he neglected to cock, and, with one in each hand, rushed yelling after the jaguars. Lawrence cocked his gun and followed at a smart, though more sedate, pace. Leetle Cub, who probably thought them both fools, ran after them with a broad grin on his dingy countenance.
We need scarcely say that the pursuit was useless. Quashy returned in a few minutes with labouring breath, and streaming at every pore. Lawrence, scarcely less blown, sat down on a fallen tree and laughed when his lungs permitted. Of course he was joined by the sympathetic black, echoed by the small boy, and imitated—not badly—by a number of parrots which wisely availed themselves of the rare opportunity to learn a lesson from man!
As they advanced the path became more encumbered and difficult to traverse, so they determined to return. Their little guide, however, seemed to object very strongly, and made wonderful gesticulations in his efforts to induce them to go on. Lawrence, however, remained firm. Seeing at last that his followers had determined to rebel, the Cub gave up trying to influence them, scooped a quantity of wild honey out of a hole in a tree, and, sitting down in a half-sulky mood, sought to console himself by eating the same.
“Come, we’ll follow you in that, at all events,” said Lawrence, seating himself beside the child and regaling himself with the sweet food. Quashy followed his example with right good-will.
When their modest meal was over they returned to the river. The little boy, on nearing it, ran anxiously forward in advance, and soon they perceived by his frantic gesticulations and shouts that something of interest awaited them there.
“He’s cotched!” cried Quashy, and darted off as if shot from a catapult.
Lawrence followed, using his long legs to such advantage that he was not far behind his man; for although gifted with greater powers of self-restraint than Quashy, our hero was not a whit behind him in strong enthusiasm.
They found that an alligator—not, indeed, of the largest size, but nevertheless about six or seven feet long—had swallowed the monkey, and was tugging at the rope like a mad thing—turning round and round in its rage, and smacking the water with its resounding tail.
Instantly they all laid hold of the rope, and began to drag it towards the bank.
“How shall we manage to kill it?” said Lawrence, as the monster came close in.
“Stick ’im! shot ’im! hang ’im. Nebber mind dat. Git ’im fust,—kill ’im arter,” gasped the negro, as he strained at the rope, ably seconded by his comrades.
It was a hard tussle, and might have been unsuccessful if Lawrence and Quashy had not possessed more than average physical strength. As it was, they pulled the monstrous animal just near enough to get his head clear of the water, and then, putting several balls into him, killed him outright.
“Plenty ragoo now, massa!” exclaimed the negro, with a broad grin, after they had stowed the carcass in the canoe.
“Yes, Quash, more than enough.”
Leetle Cub seemed to have his mind running in the same direction, for he eyed the alligator with longing looks, and licked his lips expressively as they re-entered the canoe, shoved off, and directed the bow homeward.
Thus excitingly, and, we presume, pleasantly, passed the time at Tiger’s hut during three days.
In that period the Indian hunter quite recovered from his wounds, and his little girl, Manca by name, began to show decided signs of amendment under Manuela’s careful nursing. During that period, also, Spotted Tiger conducted his visitors to many scenes of beauty, where the young doctor not only shot a variety of game, large and small, feathered and furred, but made acquaintance with many quite new species of plants. He collected and preserved a few of the rarest of these, but owing to the style of travelling, both past and prospective, he had to deny himself much in that respect.
Likewise, during those three days, he made acquaintance with the numerous pets of Tiger’s household—not the human pets, (although he became a great favourite with these also), but the lower-animal pets—the turtle, and the noisy parrot already mentioned, a fat little guinea-pig, a most melancholy red monkey, a young jaguar, a very juvenile tapir, a flamingo, and other creatures.
The tapir was about the size of a six months’ old pig. Instead of the blackish brown hair peculiar to the adult tapir, its coat was striped longitudinally with black, grey, and yellow, and was so brilliant in colour that the animal was quite a dazzling pet! besides which, it was an affectionate little thing, and particularly susceptible to the pleasure of being tickled.
The tame jaguar, however, was a very different style of animal. It did indeed like to be caressed, but it had gradually grown too large to be a safe plaything, and there was an occasional gleam in its eye which rendered Lawrence uneasy when he saw the Indian children playing with it. It was about the size of a small Newfoundland dog, but had grown up so gradually with the family that they appeared not to realise the danger attending its great strength. Spotted Tiger himself had indeed perceived something of it, for at the time we write of he had tied the animal to a stake with a stout rope, which was long enough to permit of his ranging in a wide circle.
Little did Lawrence dream of the part that peculiar pet was to play before the period of three days closed.
It was on the evening of the third day. They were all seated round a fire at supper, in front of the hut. Lawrence sat beside Manuela, as usual, and was taking much pains to teach her the correct pronunciation of an English word, of which she made a wonderful bungle, and seemed to derive much amusement from the fact, to judge from her occasional peals of silvery laughter. We use the word advisedly, in deference to the feelings of our hero, who thought and called the laughter silvery!
Tiger sat on the girl’s other side, and Quashy was seated opposite, with Little Cub and several of the lesser cubs beside him. The pet jaguar crouched close to its stake, glaring at them. There was nothing unusual either in the attitude or the glare to cause anxiety, yet Lawrence did not like it, and while engaged in imparting the difficult lesson referred to, kept his eye on the brute.
Suddenly, without warning or roar, the dangerous pet sprang at Manuela! Why it selected her we cannot imagine, unless it was that, being a brute of good taste, it chose her as the tenderest of the party. The strong cord by which it was fastened snapped like a piece of thread, but Lawrence threw himself in front of the girl, caught the animal by the throat, and held him with both hands, as if in a vice. Instantly every claw of the four paws was buried in the flesh of his legs and arms, and he would certainly have been fearfully rent by his powerful antagonist if Tiger had not, with lightning stroke, buried his long keen knife in the animal’s heart.
So swiftly and effectually was the deed done, that the jaguar next moment hung limp and dead in our hero’s grasp. Dropping it on the ground, he turned up his sleeves to examine the wounds.
“Deep enough, but not lacerated, thank God,” he said. “They won’t give me much trouble. Come, Quash, into the bush, and help me to look at the other scratches and dress them. I must appoint you assistant-surgeon for the occasion!”
Manuela murmured her thanks in a deep, tremulous voice that said much for her power of gratitude, and, timidly taking the youth’s hand as he passed, humbly touched it with her lips.
The wounds were soon dressed, and, thanks to Tiger’s promptitude, they did not afterwards give much trouble.
That night, as they were about to retire to their several hammocks, Lawrence went up to the Indian girl, and, for the first time, held out his hand for a shake in the white man’s fashion.
“I’m glad, Manuela,” he said, as she frankly grasped it, “that it has pleased God to make me the instrument of—of—protecting you.”
“Twice,” replied the girl quickly, and then paused, with a confused look,—“how you say, twice—or two times?”
“Say which you like,” replied Lawrence, with a hearty laugh; “the words will sound equally well from your lips, but ‘twice’ is the right way.”
“Well, twice you have save me. I am gratitude. My father will be gratitude.”
“Tell me, Manuela,” returned Lawrence, earnestly, “is your father a chief?”
“Yes,—a great chief.”
There was a peculiar smile on the girl’s lips as she said this that disconcerted him. We have said that he was naturally shy. He had intended to follow up his first question by asking if her father was descended from the Incas, but the peculiar smile checked him. He bade her good-night, and turned abruptly away.
While he was sitting by the fire meditating on this matter, he heard a step in the bushes. Tiger, who had already retired to his hammock, also heard it, and bounded to his feet. Next instant Pedro glided into the circle of light and saluted them.
He appeared to be worn out with exhaustion, for, flinging himself on the ground beside the fire, he rested his head in silence for a few minutes on a poncho. Then, observing a piece of manioca cake that had been dropped by some one at supper, he took it up and ate it almost ravenously.
“Why, you seem to be starving, Pedro,” said Lawrence, earnestly
“Not so bad as that,” returned Pedro with a faint smile. “A man can scarcely be said to starve with so many of the fruits of the earth around him. But I’ve been hard pressed since early morning, and—”
“Stay,” interrupted Lawrence, “before you say another word, I will go and fetch you some food.”
“No need, senhor. My old friend Spotted Tiger has forestalled you.”
This was true. The Indian, having seen at a glance how matters stood, had gone up to the hut without speaking. He now returned with a bowl of boiled maize, a bunch of bananas, and a jar of water.
While his friend was busy with these, he asked a few questions, which Pedro answered briefly.
From the expression of the Indian’s face, Lawrence gathered that these replies caused him some anxiety. As the guide’s appetite became gradually appeased his loquacity increased, but he made few remarks to Lawrence until the meal was finished. Then, turning to him with a sigh of contentment, he said—
“I’ve been slightly wounded, senhor, but I doubt not that you can soon put me all right.”
Taking off his poncho as he spoke, and pushing aside his light cotton shirt, he revealed the fact that his left breast was bound with a piece of blood-stained calico.
Lawrence at once examined the wound.
“A slight wound, indeed,” he said, “but vigorously dealt. I can see that,—and you’ve had a narrow escape, too. Half an inch higher up would have been fatal.”
“Yes, it was meant to kill,” was Pedro’s quiet rejoinder; “but, thank God, I had a friend near who meant to save, and he turned the
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