Chapter Six.Bunco becomes a Friend in Need and indeed, and Larry “comes to Grief” in a Small Way.“Sure yer face is a sight for sore eyes, though itisblack and ugly,” exclaimed Larry, as he wrung the hand of the good-humoured native, who grinned from ear to ear with delight at having found his friends.“Wot ever brought ye here?” inquired Muggins.“Mine legses,” replied Bunco, with a twinkle in his coal-black eyes.“Yer legses, eh?” repeated Muggins in a tone of sarcasm—“so I supposes, for it’s on them that a man usually goeses; but what caused you for to desart the ship?”“’Cause I no want for be pyrit more nor yourself, Mister Muggles—”“Muggins, you lump of ebony—don’t miscall me.”“Well, dat be all same—only a litil bit more ogly,” retorted Bunco, with a grin, “an’ me no want to lose sight ob Doctor Os’n here: me come for to show him how to go troo de forest.”“That’s right, my good fellow,” cried Will, with a laugh, slapping the native on the shoulder; “you have just come in the nick of time to take care of us all, for, besides having utterly lost ourselves, we are quite ignorant of forest ways in this region—no better than children, in fact.”“True for ye, boy, riglar babes in the wood, as I said before,” added Larry O’Hale.“Well, that being the case,” continued Will, “you had better take command at once, Bunco, and show us how to encamp, for we have finished our pipes and a very light supper, and would fain go to sleep. It’s a pity you did not arrive sooner, my poor fellow, for we have not a scrap of food left for you, and your gun will be of no use till daylight.”To this Bunco replied by displaying his teeth and giving vent to a low chuckle, while he lifted the flap of his pea-jacket and exhibited three fat birds hanging at the belt with which he supported his nether garments.“Hooray!” shouted Larry, seizing one of the birds and beginning to pluck it; “good luck to your black mug, we’ll ait it right off.”“That’s your sort,” cried Muggins, whose mouth watered at the thought of such a delightful addition to his poor supper. “Hand me one of ’em, Larry, and I’ll pluck it.”Larry obeyed; Old Peter seized and operated on the last bird, and Bunco raked the embers of the fire together, while Will Osten looked on and laughed. In a very few minutes the three birds were plucked and cleaned, and Larry, in virtue of his office, was going to cook them, when Will suggested that he had better resign in favour of Bunco, who was doubtless better acquainted than himself with the best modes of forest cookery. To this Larry objected a little at first, but he was finally prevailed on to give in, and Bunco went to work in his own fashion. It was simple enough. First he cut three short sticks and pointed them at each end, then he split each bird open, and laying it flat, thrust a stick through it, and stuck it up before the glowing fire to roast. When one side was pretty well done he turned the other, and, while that was cooking, cut off a few scraps from the half-roasted side and tried them.We need scarcely add that none of the party were particular. The birds were disposed of in an incredibly short time, and then the pipes were refilled for a second smoke.“How comes it,” inquired Will, when this process was going on, “that you managed to escape and to bring a gun away with you? We would not have left the ship without you, but our own escape was a sudden affair; we scarcely expected to accomplish it at the time we did. I suppose you had a sharp run for it?”“Run! ductor, no, me no run—me walk away quite comfrabil an’ tooked what me please; see here.”As he spoke, Bunco opened a small canvas bag which no one had taken notice of up to that moment, and took from it a large quantity of broken biscuit, a lump of salt beef, several cocoa-nuts, a horn of gunpowder, and a bag of shot and ball—all of which he spread out in front of the fire with much ostentation. The satisfaction caused by this was very great, and even Muggins, in the fulness of his heart, declared that after all there were worse things than being lost in a forest.“Well, and how did you manage to get away?” said Will, returning to the original question.“Git away? why, dis here wos de way. When me did see the rincumcoshindy goin’ on ashore, me say, ‘Now, Bunco, you time come; look alive;’ so, w’en de raskil called de fuss mate orders out de boat in great hurry, me slip into it like one fish. Then dey all land an’ go off like mad into de woods arter you—as you do knows. Ob coorse me stop to look arter de boat; you knows it would be very bad to go an’ leave de boat all by its lone, so w’en deys gone into de woods, me take the mate’s gun and poodair an’ shot an’ ebbery ting could carry off—all de grub, too, but der worn’t too moche of dat—and walk away in anoder d’rection. Me is used to de woods, you sees, so kep’ clear o’ de stoopid seamans, who soon tires der legses, as me knows bery well; den come round in dis d’rection; find you tracks; foller im up; shoots tree birds; sees a tiger; puts a ball in him skin, an’ sends him to bed wid a sore head—too dark for kill him—arter which me find you out, an’ here me is. Dere. Dat’s all about it.”“A most satisfactory account of yourself,” said Will Osten.“An’ purtily towld,” observed Larry; “where did ye larn English, boy, for ye have the brogue parfict, as me gran’mother used to say to the pig when she got in her dotage (me gran’mother, not the pig), ‘only,’ says she, ‘the words isn’t quite distinc’.’ Couldn’t ye give us a skitch o’ yer life, Bunco?”Thus appealed to, the gratified native began without hesitation, and gave the following account of himself:—“Me dun know when me was born—”“Faix, it wasn’t yesterday,” said Larry, interrupting.“No, nor de day before to-morrow nother,” retorted Bunco; “but it was in Callyforny, anyhow. Me fadder him wos a Injin—”“Oh! come!” interrupted Muggins in a remonstrative tone.“Yis, himwosa Injin,” repeated Bunco stoutly.“Wos he asteam-ingine?” inquired Muggins with a slight touch of sarcasm.“He means an Indian, Muggins,” explained Will.“Then why don’t he say wot he means? However, go ahead, Ebony.”“Hims wos a Injin,” resumed Bunco, “ant me moder him wos a Spanish half-breed from dis yer country—Peru. Me live for years in de forests an’ plains an’ mountains ob Callyforny huntin’ an fightin’. Oh, dem were de happy days! After dat me find a wife what I lub berry moche, den me leave her for short time an’ go wid tradin’ party to de coast. Here meet wid a cap’n of ship, wot wos a big raskil. Him ’tice me aboord an’ sail away. Short ob hands him wos, so him took me, an’ me never see me wife no more!”There was something quite touching in the tone in which the poor fellow said this, insomuch that Larry became sympathetic and abused the captain who had kidnapped him in no measured terms. Had Larry known that acts similar to this wicked and heartless one were perpetrated by traders in the South Seas very frequently, he would have made his terms of abuse more general!“How long ago was that?” inquired Old Peter.“Tree year,” sighed Bunco. “Since dat day I hab bin in two tree ships, but nebber run away, cause why? wot’s de use ob run away onisland? Only now me got on Sout ’Meriky, which me know is not far from Nord ’Meriky, an’ me bin here before wid me moder, so kin show you how to go—and speak Spanish too—me moder speak dat, you sees; but mesilf larn English aboord two tree ships, an’, so, speak him fust rate now.”“So ye do, boy,” said Larry, whose sympathetic heart was drawn towards the unfortunate and ill-used native; “an’, faix, we’ll go on travellin’ through this forest till we comes to Callyforny an’ finds your missus—so cheer up, Bunco, and let us see how we’re to go to roost, for it seems that we must slaip on a tree this night.”During the course of the conversation which we have just detailed, the wild denizens of the forest had been increasing their dismal cries, and the seamen, unused to such sounds, had been kept in a state of nervous anxiety which each did his utmost to conceal. They were all brave men; but it requires a very peculiar kind of bravery to enable a man to sit and listen with cool indifference to sounds which he does not understand, issuing from gloomy recesses at his back, where there are acknowledged, though unknown, dangers close at hand. Bunco, therefore, grinning good-humouredly as usual, rose and selected a gigantic tree as their dormitory.The trunk of this tree spread out, a few feet above its base, into several branches, any one of which would have been deemed a large tree in England, and these branches were again subdivided into smaller stems with a network of foliage, which rendered it quite possible for a man to move about upon them with facility, and to find a convenient couch. Here,—the fire at the foot of the tree having been replenished,—each man sought and found repose.It was observed that Larry O’Hale made a large soft couch below the tree on the ground.“You’re not going to sleep there, Larry?” said Will Osten, on observing what he was about. “Why, the tigers will be picking your bones before morning if you do.”“Och! I’m not afraid of ’em,” replied Larry; “howsever, Idomain to slaip up the treeif I can.”That night, some time after all the party had been buried in profound repose, they were awakened by a crash and a tremendous howl just below them. Each started up, and, pushing aside the leaves, gazed anxiously down. A dark object was seen moving below, and Bunco was just going to point his gun at it, when a gruff voice was heard to say—“Arrah! didn’t I know it? It’s famous I’ve bin, since I was a mere boy, for rowlin’ about in me slaip, an’, sure, the branch of a tree is only fit for a bird after all. But, good luck to yer wisdom an’ foresight, Larry O’Hale, for ye’ve come down soft, anyhow, an’ if there’s anything’ll cure ye o’ this bad habit—slaipin’ on trees’ll do it in the coorse o’ time, I make no doubt wotiver!”
“Sure yer face is a sight for sore eyes, though itisblack and ugly,” exclaimed Larry, as he wrung the hand of the good-humoured native, who grinned from ear to ear with delight at having found his friends.
“Wot ever brought ye here?” inquired Muggins.
“Mine legses,” replied Bunco, with a twinkle in his coal-black eyes.
“Yer legses, eh?” repeated Muggins in a tone of sarcasm—“so I supposes, for it’s on them that a man usually goeses; but what caused you for to desart the ship?”
“’Cause I no want for be pyrit more nor yourself, Mister Muggles—”
“Muggins, you lump of ebony—don’t miscall me.”
“Well, dat be all same—only a litil bit more ogly,” retorted Bunco, with a grin, “an’ me no want to lose sight ob Doctor Os’n here: me come for to show him how to go troo de forest.”
“That’s right, my good fellow,” cried Will, with a laugh, slapping the native on the shoulder; “you have just come in the nick of time to take care of us all, for, besides having utterly lost ourselves, we are quite ignorant of forest ways in this region—no better than children, in fact.”
“True for ye, boy, riglar babes in the wood, as I said before,” added Larry O’Hale.
“Well, that being the case,” continued Will, “you had better take command at once, Bunco, and show us how to encamp, for we have finished our pipes and a very light supper, and would fain go to sleep. It’s a pity you did not arrive sooner, my poor fellow, for we have not a scrap of food left for you, and your gun will be of no use till daylight.”
To this Bunco replied by displaying his teeth and giving vent to a low chuckle, while he lifted the flap of his pea-jacket and exhibited three fat birds hanging at the belt with which he supported his nether garments.
“Hooray!” shouted Larry, seizing one of the birds and beginning to pluck it; “good luck to your black mug, we’ll ait it right off.”
“That’s your sort,” cried Muggins, whose mouth watered at the thought of such a delightful addition to his poor supper. “Hand me one of ’em, Larry, and I’ll pluck it.”
Larry obeyed; Old Peter seized and operated on the last bird, and Bunco raked the embers of the fire together, while Will Osten looked on and laughed. In a very few minutes the three birds were plucked and cleaned, and Larry, in virtue of his office, was going to cook them, when Will suggested that he had better resign in favour of Bunco, who was doubtless better acquainted than himself with the best modes of forest cookery. To this Larry objected a little at first, but he was finally prevailed on to give in, and Bunco went to work in his own fashion. It was simple enough. First he cut three short sticks and pointed them at each end, then he split each bird open, and laying it flat, thrust a stick through it, and stuck it up before the glowing fire to roast. When one side was pretty well done he turned the other, and, while that was cooking, cut off a few scraps from the half-roasted side and tried them.
We need scarcely add that none of the party were particular. The birds were disposed of in an incredibly short time, and then the pipes were refilled for a second smoke.
“How comes it,” inquired Will, when this process was going on, “that you managed to escape and to bring a gun away with you? We would not have left the ship without you, but our own escape was a sudden affair; we scarcely expected to accomplish it at the time we did. I suppose you had a sharp run for it?”
“Run! ductor, no, me no run—me walk away quite comfrabil an’ tooked what me please; see here.”
As he spoke, Bunco opened a small canvas bag which no one had taken notice of up to that moment, and took from it a large quantity of broken biscuit, a lump of salt beef, several cocoa-nuts, a horn of gunpowder, and a bag of shot and ball—all of which he spread out in front of the fire with much ostentation. The satisfaction caused by this was very great, and even Muggins, in the fulness of his heart, declared that after all there were worse things than being lost in a forest.
“Well, and how did you manage to get away?” said Will, returning to the original question.
“Git away? why, dis here wos de way. When me did see the rincumcoshindy goin’ on ashore, me say, ‘Now, Bunco, you time come; look alive;’ so, w’en de raskil called de fuss mate orders out de boat in great hurry, me slip into it like one fish. Then dey all land an’ go off like mad into de woods arter you—as you do knows. Ob coorse me stop to look arter de boat; you knows it would be very bad to go an’ leave de boat all by its lone, so w’en deys gone into de woods, me take the mate’s gun and poodair an’ shot an’ ebbery ting could carry off—all de grub, too, but der worn’t too moche of dat—and walk away in anoder d’rection. Me is used to de woods, you sees, so kep’ clear o’ de stoopid seamans, who soon tires der legses, as me knows bery well; den come round in dis d’rection; find you tracks; foller im up; shoots tree birds; sees a tiger; puts a ball in him skin, an’ sends him to bed wid a sore head—too dark for kill him—arter which me find you out, an’ here me is. Dere. Dat’s all about it.”
“A most satisfactory account of yourself,” said Will Osten.
“An’ purtily towld,” observed Larry; “where did ye larn English, boy, for ye have the brogue parfict, as me gran’mother used to say to the pig when she got in her dotage (me gran’mother, not the pig), ‘only,’ says she, ‘the words isn’t quite distinc’.’ Couldn’t ye give us a skitch o’ yer life, Bunco?”
Thus appealed to, the gratified native began without hesitation, and gave the following account of himself:—
“Me dun know when me was born—”
“Faix, it wasn’t yesterday,” said Larry, interrupting.
“No, nor de day before to-morrow nother,” retorted Bunco; “but it was in Callyforny, anyhow. Me fadder him wos a Injin—”
“Oh! come!” interrupted Muggins in a remonstrative tone.
“Yis, himwosa Injin,” repeated Bunco stoutly.
“Wos he asteam-ingine?” inquired Muggins with a slight touch of sarcasm.
“He means an Indian, Muggins,” explained Will.
“Then why don’t he say wot he means? However, go ahead, Ebony.”
“Hims wos a Injin,” resumed Bunco, “ant me moder him wos a Spanish half-breed from dis yer country—Peru. Me live for years in de forests an’ plains an’ mountains ob Callyforny huntin’ an fightin’. Oh, dem were de happy days! After dat me find a wife what I lub berry moche, den me leave her for short time an’ go wid tradin’ party to de coast. Here meet wid a cap’n of ship, wot wos a big raskil. Him ’tice me aboord an’ sail away. Short ob hands him wos, so him took me, an’ me never see me wife no more!”
There was something quite touching in the tone in which the poor fellow said this, insomuch that Larry became sympathetic and abused the captain who had kidnapped him in no measured terms. Had Larry known that acts similar to this wicked and heartless one were perpetrated by traders in the South Seas very frequently, he would have made his terms of abuse more general!
“How long ago was that?” inquired Old Peter.
“Tree year,” sighed Bunco. “Since dat day I hab bin in two tree ships, but nebber run away, cause why? wot’s de use ob run away onisland? Only now me got on Sout ’Meriky, which me know is not far from Nord ’Meriky, an’ me bin here before wid me moder, so kin show you how to go—and speak Spanish too—me moder speak dat, you sees; but mesilf larn English aboord two tree ships, an’, so, speak him fust rate now.”
“So ye do, boy,” said Larry, whose sympathetic heart was drawn towards the unfortunate and ill-used native; “an’, faix, we’ll go on travellin’ through this forest till we comes to Callyforny an’ finds your missus—so cheer up, Bunco, and let us see how we’re to go to roost, for it seems that we must slaip on a tree this night.”
During the course of the conversation which we have just detailed, the wild denizens of the forest had been increasing their dismal cries, and the seamen, unused to such sounds, had been kept in a state of nervous anxiety which each did his utmost to conceal. They were all brave men; but it requires a very peculiar kind of bravery to enable a man to sit and listen with cool indifference to sounds which he does not understand, issuing from gloomy recesses at his back, where there are acknowledged, though unknown, dangers close at hand. Bunco, therefore, grinning good-humouredly as usual, rose and selected a gigantic tree as their dormitory.
The trunk of this tree spread out, a few feet above its base, into several branches, any one of which would have been deemed a large tree in England, and these branches were again subdivided into smaller stems with a network of foliage, which rendered it quite possible for a man to move about upon them with facility, and to find a convenient couch. Here,—the fire at the foot of the tree having been replenished,—each man sought and found repose.
It was observed that Larry O’Hale made a large soft couch below the tree on the ground.
“You’re not going to sleep there, Larry?” said Will Osten, on observing what he was about. “Why, the tigers will be picking your bones before morning if you do.”
“Och! I’m not afraid of ’em,” replied Larry; “howsever, Idomain to slaip up the treeif I can.”
That night, some time after all the party had been buried in profound repose, they were awakened by a crash and a tremendous howl just below them. Each started up, and, pushing aside the leaves, gazed anxiously down. A dark object was seen moving below, and Bunco was just going to point his gun at it, when a gruff voice was heard to say—
“Arrah! didn’t I know it? It’s famous I’ve bin, since I was a mere boy, for rowlin’ about in me slaip, an’, sure, the branch of a tree is only fit for a bird after all. But, good luck to yer wisdom an’ foresight, Larry O’Hale, for ye’ve come down soft, anyhow, an’ if there’s anything’ll cure ye o’ this bad habit—slaipin’ on trees’ll do it in the coorse o’ time, I make no doubt wotiver!”
Chapter Seven.Wherein are recounted Dangers, Difficulties, and Perplexities faced and Overcome.Next morning the travellers rose with the sun and descended from the tree in which they had spent the night—much refreshed and “ready for anything.”It was well that they were thus prepared for whatever might befall them, for there were several incidents in store for them that day which tried them somewhat, and would have perplexed them sadly had they been without a guide. Perhaps we are scarcely entitled to bestow that title on Bunco, for he was as thoroughly lost in the forest as were any of his companions, in the sense, at least, of being ignorant as to where he was, or how far from the nearest human habitation: but he was acquainted with forest-life, knew the signs and symptoms of the wilderness, and could track his way through pathless wastes in a manner that was utterly incomprehensible to his companions, and could not be explained by himself. Moreover, he was a shrewd fellow, as well as bold, and possessed a strong sense of humour, which he did not fail at times to gratify at the expense of his friends.This tendency was exhibited by him in the first morning’s march, during which he proved his superiority in woodcraft, and firmly established himself in the confidence of the party. The incident occurred thus:—After a hearty and hasty breakfast—for, being lost, they were all anxious to get found as soon as possible—they set forth in single file; Bunco leading, Old Peter, Muggins, and Larry following, and Will Osten bringing up the rear. During the first hour they walked easily and pleasantly enough through level and rather open woodland, where they met few obstacles worth mentioning, so that Larry and Muggins, whose minds were filled with the idea of wild beasts, and who were much excited by the romance of their novel position, kept a sharp lookout on the bushes right and left, the one shouldering his gigantic cudgel, the other flourishing his shillelah in a humorous free-and-easy way, and both feeling convinced that with such weapons they were more than a match for any tiger alive! When several hours had elapsed, however, without producing any sign or sound of game, they began to feel disappointment, and to regard their guide as an exaggerator if not worse; and when, in course of time, the underwood became more dense and their passage through the forest more difficult, they began to make slighting remarks about their dark-skinned friend, and to question his fitness for the duties of guide. In particular, Muggins—who was becoming fatigued, owing partly to the weight of his club as well as to the weight of his body and the shortness of his legs—at last broke out on him and declared that he would follow no further.“Why,” said he gruffly, “it’s as plain as the nose on yer nutmeg face, that ye’re steerin’ a wrong coorse. You’ll never make the coast on this tack.”“Oh yis, wees will,” replied Bunco, with a quiet smile.“No, wees won’t, ye lump o’ mahogany,” retorted Muggins. “Don’t the coast run nor’ and by west here away?”“Troo,” assented Bunco with a nod.“Well, and ain’t we goin’ due north just now, so that the coast lies away on our left, an’ for the last three hours you’ve bin bearin’ away to theright, something like nor’ and by east, if it’s not nor’eastan’ by east, the coast being all the while on yer port beam, you grampus—that’s so, ain’t it?”“Yis, dat’s so,” replied Bunco with a grin.“Then, shiver my timbers, why don’t ye shove yer helm hard a starboard an’ lay yer right coorse? Come, lads,I’llgo to the wheel now for a spell.”Will Osten was about to object to this, but Bunco gave him a peculiar glance which induced him to agree to the proposal; so Muggins went ahead and the rest followed.At the place where this dispute occurred there chanced to be a stretch of comparatively open ground leading away to the left. Into this glade the hardy seamen turned with an air of triumph.His triumph, however, was short-lived, for at a turn in the glade he came to a place where the underwood was so dense and so interlaced with vines and creeping plants that further advance was absolutely impossible. After “yawing about” for some minutes “in search of a channel,” as Larry expressed it, Muggins suddenly gave in and exclaimed,—“I’m a Dutchman, boys, if we ha’n’t got embayed!”“It’s let go the anchor an’ take soundin’s ’ll be the nixt order, I s’pose, Captain Muggins?” said Larry, touching his cap.“Or let the tother pilot take the helm,” said Old Peter, “‘he’s all my fancy painted him,’ as Milton says in Paraphrases Lost.”“Right, Peter,” cried Will Osten, “we must dethrone Muggins and reinstate Bunco.”“Ha! you’s willin’ for to do second fiddilnow?” said the native, turning with a grin to Muggins, as he was about to resume his place at the head of the party.“No, never, ye leather-jawed kangaroo, but I’ve no objections todothe drum on yer skull, withthisfor a drumstick!” He flourished his club as he spoke, and Bunco, bounding away with a laugh, led the party back on their track for a few paces, then, turning sharp to the right, he conducted them into a narrow opening in the thicket, and proceeded in a zig-zag manner that utterly confused poor Muggins, inducing him from that hour to resign himself with blind faith to the guidance of his conqueror. Well would it be for humanity in general, and for rulers in particular, if there were more of Muggins’s spirit abroad inducing men to give in and resign cheerfully when beaten fairly!If the sailors were disappointed at not meeting with any wild creatures during the first part of their walk, they were more than compensated by the experiences of the afternoon. While they were walking quietly along, several snakes—some of considerable length—wriggled out of their path, and Larry trod on one which twirled round his foot, causing him to leap off the ground like a grasshopper and utter a yell, compared to which all his previous shoutings were like soft music. Bunco calmed his fears, however, and comforted the party by saying that these snakes were harmless. Nevertheless, they felt a strong sensation of aversion to the reptiles, which it was not easy to overcome, and Muggins began to think seriously that being lost in the forest was, after all, a pleasure mingled considerably with alloy! Not long after the incident of the snake, strange sounds were heard from time to time in the bushes, and all the party, except Bunco, began to glance uneasily from side to side, and grasped their weapons firmly. Suddenly a frightful-looking face was observed by Larry peeping through the bushes right over Muggins’s unconscious head. The horrified Irishman, who thought it was no other than a visitant from the world of fiends, was going to utter a shout of warning, when a long hairy arm was stretched out from the bushes and Muggins’s hat was snatched from his head.“Och! ye spalpeen,” cried Larry, hurling his cudgel at the ugly creature.The weapon was truly aimed; it hit the monkey on the back, causing it to drop the hat and vanish from the spot—shrieking.“Well done, Larry!” cried Will Osten; “why didn’t you warn us to expect visits from such brutes, Bunco?”“Why, cause me tink you know all ’bout ’im. Hab larn ’im from Jo Gruffy.”“From who?”“From Jo Gruffy. Him as you was say, last night, do tell all ’bout de countries ob de world, and wot sort of treeses an’ hanimals in ’im. Der be plenty ob dem hanimals—(how you call ’im, mongkees?) in Peroo, big an leetil.”“Well!” exclaimed our hero with a laugh, “possibly geography may refer to the fact; if so, I had forgotten it, but I’m sorry to hear that they are numerous, for they are much too bold to be pleasant companions.”“Dey do us no harm,” said Bunco, grinning, “only chok full ob fun!”“Git along wid ye,” cried Larry. “It’s my belaif they’re yer own relations, or ye wouldn’t stick up for them.”Thus admonished, the native resumed the march, and led them through the jungle into deeper and darker shades. Here the forest was quite free from underwood, and the leafy canopy overhead was so dense that the sky could seldom be seen. Everything appeared to be steeped in a soft mellow shade of yellowish green, which was delightfully cool and refreshing in a land lying so very near to the equator. The howling and hoarse barking of wild beasts was now heard to an extent that fully satisfied Larry O’Hale and his friend Muggins. There were patches of dense jungle here and there, in which it was supposed the animals lay concealed, and each of these were carefully examined by our travellers. That there was need for caution became apparent from the fact that Bunco carried his gun at full cock in the hollow of his left arm, and had a stern, earnest expression of visage which was quite new to his nautical companions, and made a deep impression on them. Curious and interesting change of sentiment:— the man whom, while at sea, they had treated with good-humoured contempt, was ere long clung to and regarded almost with reverence!“Be quiet, boys, here,” he said, “an’ no make noise. Keep de eyes open.”After this he did not speak, but gave his directions by signs.
Next morning the travellers rose with the sun and descended from the tree in which they had spent the night—much refreshed and “ready for anything.”
It was well that they were thus prepared for whatever might befall them, for there were several incidents in store for them that day which tried them somewhat, and would have perplexed them sadly had they been without a guide. Perhaps we are scarcely entitled to bestow that title on Bunco, for he was as thoroughly lost in the forest as were any of his companions, in the sense, at least, of being ignorant as to where he was, or how far from the nearest human habitation: but he was acquainted with forest-life, knew the signs and symptoms of the wilderness, and could track his way through pathless wastes in a manner that was utterly incomprehensible to his companions, and could not be explained by himself. Moreover, he was a shrewd fellow, as well as bold, and possessed a strong sense of humour, which he did not fail at times to gratify at the expense of his friends.
This tendency was exhibited by him in the first morning’s march, during which he proved his superiority in woodcraft, and firmly established himself in the confidence of the party. The incident occurred thus:—
After a hearty and hasty breakfast—for, being lost, they were all anxious to get found as soon as possible—they set forth in single file; Bunco leading, Old Peter, Muggins, and Larry following, and Will Osten bringing up the rear. During the first hour they walked easily and pleasantly enough through level and rather open woodland, where they met few obstacles worth mentioning, so that Larry and Muggins, whose minds were filled with the idea of wild beasts, and who were much excited by the romance of their novel position, kept a sharp lookout on the bushes right and left, the one shouldering his gigantic cudgel, the other flourishing his shillelah in a humorous free-and-easy way, and both feeling convinced that with such weapons they were more than a match for any tiger alive! When several hours had elapsed, however, without producing any sign or sound of game, they began to feel disappointment, and to regard their guide as an exaggerator if not worse; and when, in course of time, the underwood became more dense and their passage through the forest more difficult, they began to make slighting remarks about their dark-skinned friend, and to question his fitness for the duties of guide. In particular, Muggins—who was becoming fatigued, owing partly to the weight of his club as well as to the weight of his body and the shortness of his legs—at last broke out on him and declared that he would follow no further.
“Why,” said he gruffly, “it’s as plain as the nose on yer nutmeg face, that ye’re steerin’ a wrong coorse. You’ll never make the coast on this tack.”
“Oh yis, wees will,” replied Bunco, with a quiet smile.
“No, wees won’t, ye lump o’ mahogany,” retorted Muggins. “Don’t the coast run nor’ and by west here away?”
“Troo,” assented Bunco with a nod.
“Well, and ain’t we goin’ due north just now, so that the coast lies away on our left, an’ for the last three hours you’ve bin bearin’ away to theright, something like nor’ and by east, if it’s not nor’eastan’ by east, the coast being all the while on yer port beam, you grampus—that’s so, ain’t it?”
“Yis, dat’s so,” replied Bunco with a grin.
“Then, shiver my timbers, why don’t ye shove yer helm hard a starboard an’ lay yer right coorse? Come, lads,I’llgo to the wheel now for a spell.”
Will Osten was about to object to this, but Bunco gave him a peculiar glance which induced him to agree to the proposal; so Muggins went ahead and the rest followed.
At the place where this dispute occurred there chanced to be a stretch of comparatively open ground leading away to the left. Into this glade the hardy seamen turned with an air of triumph.
His triumph, however, was short-lived, for at a turn in the glade he came to a place where the underwood was so dense and so interlaced with vines and creeping plants that further advance was absolutely impossible. After “yawing about” for some minutes “in search of a channel,” as Larry expressed it, Muggins suddenly gave in and exclaimed,—“I’m a Dutchman, boys, if we ha’n’t got embayed!”
“It’s let go the anchor an’ take soundin’s ’ll be the nixt order, I s’pose, Captain Muggins?” said Larry, touching his cap.
“Or let the tother pilot take the helm,” said Old Peter, “‘he’s all my fancy painted him,’ as Milton says in Paraphrases Lost.”
“Right, Peter,” cried Will Osten, “we must dethrone Muggins and reinstate Bunco.”
“Ha! you’s willin’ for to do second fiddilnow?” said the native, turning with a grin to Muggins, as he was about to resume his place at the head of the party.
“No, never, ye leather-jawed kangaroo, but I’ve no objections todothe drum on yer skull, withthisfor a drumstick!” He flourished his club as he spoke, and Bunco, bounding away with a laugh, led the party back on their track for a few paces, then, turning sharp to the right, he conducted them into a narrow opening in the thicket, and proceeded in a zig-zag manner that utterly confused poor Muggins, inducing him from that hour to resign himself with blind faith to the guidance of his conqueror. Well would it be for humanity in general, and for rulers in particular, if there were more of Muggins’s spirit abroad inducing men to give in and resign cheerfully when beaten fairly!
If the sailors were disappointed at not meeting with any wild creatures during the first part of their walk, they were more than compensated by the experiences of the afternoon. While they were walking quietly along, several snakes—some of considerable length—wriggled out of their path, and Larry trod on one which twirled round his foot, causing him to leap off the ground like a grasshopper and utter a yell, compared to which all his previous shoutings were like soft music. Bunco calmed his fears, however, and comforted the party by saying that these snakes were harmless. Nevertheless, they felt a strong sensation of aversion to the reptiles, which it was not easy to overcome, and Muggins began to think seriously that being lost in the forest was, after all, a pleasure mingled considerably with alloy! Not long after the incident of the snake, strange sounds were heard from time to time in the bushes, and all the party, except Bunco, began to glance uneasily from side to side, and grasped their weapons firmly. Suddenly a frightful-looking face was observed by Larry peeping through the bushes right over Muggins’s unconscious head. The horrified Irishman, who thought it was no other than a visitant from the world of fiends, was going to utter a shout of warning, when a long hairy arm was stretched out from the bushes and Muggins’s hat was snatched from his head.
“Och! ye spalpeen,” cried Larry, hurling his cudgel at the ugly creature.
The weapon was truly aimed; it hit the monkey on the back, causing it to drop the hat and vanish from the spot—shrieking.
“Well done, Larry!” cried Will Osten; “why didn’t you warn us to expect visits from such brutes, Bunco?”
“Why, cause me tink you know all ’bout ’im. Hab larn ’im from Jo Gruffy.”
“From who?”
“From Jo Gruffy. Him as you was say, last night, do tell all ’bout de countries ob de world, and wot sort of treeses an’ hanimals in ’im. Der be plenty ob dem hanimals—(how you call ’im, mongkees?) in Peroo, big an leetil.”
“Well!” exclaimed our hero with a laugh, “possibly geography may refer to the fact; if so, I had forgotten it, but I’m sorry to hear that they are numerous, for they are much too bold to be pleasant companions.”
“Dey do us no harm,” said Bunco, grinning, “only chok full ob fun!”
“Git along wid ye,” cried Larry. “It’s my belaif they’re yer own relations, or ye wouldn’t stick up for them.”
Thus admonished, the native resumed the march, and led them through the jungle into deeper and darker shades. Here the forest was quite free from underwood, and the leafy canopy overhead was so dense that the sky could seldom be seen. Everything appeared to be steeped in a soft mellow shade of yellowish green, which was delightfully cool and refreshing in a land lying so very near to the equator. The howling and hoarse barking of wild beasts was now heard to an extent that fully satisfied Larry O’Hale and his friend Muggins. There were patches of dense jungle here and there, in which it was supposed the animals lay concealed, and each of these were carefully examined by our travellers. That there was need for caution became apparent from the fact that Bunco carried his gun at full cock in the hollow of his left arm, and had a stern, earnest expression of visage which was quite new to his nautical companions, and made a deep impression on them. Curious and interesting change of sentiment:— the man whom, while at sea, they had treated with good-humoured contempt, was ere long clung to and regarded almost with reverence!
“Be quiet, boys, here,” he said, “an’ no make noise. Keep de eyes open.”
After this he did not speak, but gave his directions by signs.
Chapter Eight.In which Bunco displays Uncommon Valour, and Tigers come to Grief.Advancing cautiously, the travellers arrived at the brink of a dark ravine, in the bottom of which there was a good deal of brushwood, with here and there several pools of water. They had remained a short time here on the top of the bank, listening to the various barks and cries of the wild animals around them, when their attention was arrested by several loud yelps, which sounded as if some creature were approaching them fast. Bunco signed to them to stoop and follow him. They did so, and had not advanced a hundred yards when the loud clatter of hoofs was heard. Bunco crouched instantly and held his gun in readiness, while his black eyes glittered and his expressive features seemed to blaze with eagerness. His followers also crouched among the bushes, and each grasped his club with a feeling that it was but a poor weapon of defence after all—though better than nothing!They had not to wait long, for, in a few minutes, a beautiful black wild horse came racing like the wind along the clear part of the ravine in the direction of the place where they were concealed. The magnificent creature was going at his utmost speed, being pursued by a large tiger, and the steam burst from his distended nostrils, while his voluminous mane and tail waved wildly in the air. The tiger gained on him rapidly. Its bounds were tremendous; at each leap it rose several feet from the ground. The poor horse was all but exhausted, for he slipped and came down on his knees, when abreast of, and not thirty yards distant from, the place where the travellers lay. The tiger did not miss his opportunity. He crouched and ran along with the twisting motion of a huge cat; then he sprang a clear distance of twenty feet and alighted on the horse’s back, seizing him by the neck with a fearful growl. Now came Bunco’s opportunity. While the noble horse reared and plunged violently in a vain attempt to get rid of his enemy, the cautious native took a steady aim, and was so long about it that some of the party nearly lost patience with him. At last he fired, and the tiger fell off the horse, rolling and kicking about in all directions—evidently badly wounded. The horse meanwhile galloped away and was soon lost to view.Instead of loading and firing again, Bunco threw down his gun, and, drawing a long knife, rushed in upon his victim. His comrades, who thought him mad, sprang after him, but he had closed with the tiger and plunged his knife into it before they came up. The creature uttered a tremendous roar and writhed rapidly about, throwing up clouds of dust from the dry ground, while Bunco made another dash at him and a plunge with his long knife, but he missed the blow and fell. His comrades closed in and brandished their clubs, but the rapid motions of man and beast rendered it impossible for them to strike an effective blow without running the risk of hitting the man instead of the tiger. In the midst of a whirlwind of dust and leaves, and a tempest of roars and yells, the bold native managed to drive his knife three times into the animal’s side, when it rolled over with a savage growl and expired.“Are ye hurt, Bunco?” inquired Will Osten with much anxiety, when the man rose, covered with dust and blood, and stood before them.“No moche hurt, only scrash a bit.”“Scratched a bit!” exclaimed Larry, “it’s torn to tatters ye ought to be for bein’ so venturesome.”“That’s so,” said Muggins; “ye shouldn’t ha’ done it, Bunco; what would have comed of us if ye’d bin killed, eh?”“Oh, dat am noting,” said Bunco, drawing himself up proudly; “me hab kill lots of dem before; but dis one hims die hard.”Will Osten, who was anxious to ascertain whether the man had really escaped serious injury, put a stop to the conversation by hurrying him off to the nearest pool and washing his wounds. They proved, as he had said, to be trifling—only a slight bite on the shoulder and a few tears, by the animal’s claws, on the arms and thighs. When these were dressed, Bunco went to work actively to skin the tiger,—an operation which he performed with great expedition, and then, having rolled it into a convenient bundle and slung it on his back, he re-loaded his gun and again resumed his duties as guide. They had not gone far when a fierce growling behind them told that other wild animals, probably tigers, had scented out the carcass of the slain animal, and were already quarrelling over their meal.Shortly after this they came suddenly and quite unexpectedly on a house or hut, which turned out to be the residence of a man who was half Spaniard half Indian. The man received them kindly, and, finding that Bunco could speak Spanish, offered them hospitality with great politeness and evident satisfaction.“Good luck to ’e, boy,” said Larry, when their host invited them to partake of a substantial meal to which he had been about to sit down when they arrived, “it’s myself’ll be proud to welcome ye to ould Ireland if iver ye come that way.”“Ask him, Bunco,” said Will Osten, “where we are, how far we are from the coast, and what is the name and distance of the nearest town.”To these questions the Spaniard replied that they were in the northern part of the Republic of Ecuador, and not, as they had supposed, in Peru, which lay some hundreds of miles to the southward; that a couple of days’ walking would bring them to the coast, and that in two days more they could reach the town of Tacames. This, being one of the few ports on the western coast of South America where vessels touched, was a place from which they might probably be able to make their way to California. He added that there was a rumour of gold having been discovered of late in that region, but, for his part, he didn’t believe it, for he had heard the same rumour several times before, and nothing had ever come of it, at least as far as he knew.“Ye’re wrong there, intirely, mister what’s-yer-name,” said Larry O’Hale, pausing for a moment in the midst of his devotion to the good things spread before him. “Sure it’s my own brother Ted as wos out there a year gone by, an’ he swore he picked up goold like stones an’ putt them in his pocket, but the capting o’ the ship he sailed in towld him it wos brass, an’ his mates laughed at him to that extint that he flung it all overboord in a passion. Faix, I’ve made up my mind that thereisgoold in Callyforny and that wan Larry O’Hale is distined for to make his fortin’ there—so I’ll throuble ye for another hunk o’ that pottimus, or wotiver ye call it. Prime prog it is, anyhow.”An earnest discussion here followed as to the probability of gold having been found in California and whether it was worth their while to try their fortune in that direction. During the course of the meal, the Spaniard incidentally mentioned that on the previous night a tiger had broken into his enclosure, and injured a bullock so badly that he had been obliged to kill it, and he had little doubt the same beast would pay him another visit that night.This was good news to the travellers, all of whom were keen—though not all expert—sportsmen.As evening had already set in, they begged to be allowed to rest for a little so as to be ready for the tiger when he came. Their host at once conducted them into a small room, where several hammocks were suspended from the walls. Into these they quickly jumped, and, in a few minutes, the concert played by their noses told a tale of sweet repose after a day of unusual toil.For several hours they slept, and then the Spaniard awoke them with the information that the tiger was coming! Up they sprang, as a matter of course, and with considerable noise too, but Bunco soon impressed them with the necessity of being quiet. The Spaniard had only two guns, one of which he handed to Will Osten. The seamen were of necessity left to be spectators.It is necessary here to describe the Spaniard’s hut, which was peculiar as to its architecture. It was a mere shed made of bamboo canes closely placed together, and roofed with large cocoa and other leaves. The floor was of rough boards covered with matting. The whole structure stood on the top of a number of strong posts about twelve or fourteen feet from the ground, and the entrance was gained by a ladder which could be drawn up at night. The object of this great elevation and the ladder, was protection from the nocturnal visit of wild beasts such as tigers or jaguars, as well as monkeys of a large size. In the door of this hut there was a hole of about two feet square, at which the host stationed himself with the muzzle of his gun thrust through it. Two smaller holes in the walls, which served for windows, were used on the present occasion as loopholes by Will Osten and Bunco.Perfect silence was maintained for about half an hour. The sky was cloudless and the moon full. Not a breath of wind stirred a leaf of the forest that encircled the small clearing. The buzz of mosquitoes, or the flapping about of a huge bat alone disturbed the silence of the night, and the watchers were beginning to fear it would turn out to be a false alarm, when the cattle in the yard began to low in a quick yet mournful tone. They knew full well that their enemy was at hand! A few minutes, that appeared an age, of anxiety followed. Then some bullocks that had been purposely fastened near the hut began to bellow furiously. Another instant, and the tiger cleared the fence with a magnificent bound, alighted in the yard, and crouched for a spring. The moon shone full in his glaring eyeballs, making his head a splendid target. Three shots crashed out in one report, and with a roar that would have done credit to the monarch of the African wilderness, this king of the western forest fell down and died.He was a full-grown tiger with a beautifully marked skin, which Bunco was not long in stripping from the carcass, while the Spaniard, who was highly delighted by this success, set about preparing breakfast. They were all too much excited to think of going to bed again; and, besides, it was within an hour of daybreak.During the morning Will Osten persuaded his host to give him one of his old guns in exchange for a beautiful silver-mounted hunting knife, which was the only article of value that he happened to possess. With this useful addition to their arms, the travellers resumed their journey shortly after dawn, being convoyed several miles on their way by their amiable host. They parted from him, finally, with much regret and many professions of gratitude and esteem, especially from Larry, who, in the fulness of his impulsive nature, reiterated his pressing invitation to pay him a visit in his “swait little cabin in the bog of Clonave, County Westmeath, ould Ireland!”We will not drag the reader through every step of the rough and adventurous journey which was accomplished by our travellers in the succeeding week, during which they became so familiar with tigers, that Muggins thought no more of their roaring than he did of the mewing of cats, while Larry actually got the length of kicking the “sarpints” out of his way, although he did express his conviction, now and then, that the “counthry wos mightily in want of a visit from Saint Patrick.” They travelled steadily and surely under the guidance of the faithful Bunco, through tangled brake, and wild morass, and dense forest, and many a mile of sandy plain, until at length they reached the small town and port ofTacames, into which they entered one sultry afternoon, footsore and weary, with their clothes torn almost to tatters, and without a single coin—of any realm whatever—in their pockets.“Well, here we are at last,” said Will Osten, with a sigh.“True for ye,” responded Larry.“That’s so,” said Muggins.“It’s all well as ends well, which wos Billy Cowper’s opinion,” observed Old Peter.Bunco made no remark, but he gave a quiet grunt, which might have meant anything—or nothing—as they entered the town.
Advancing cautiously, the travellers arrived at the brink of a dark ravine, in the bottom of which there was a good deal of brushwood, with here and there several pools of water. They had remained a short time here on the top of the bank, listening to the various barks and cries of the wild animals around them, when their attention was arrested by several loud yelps, which sounded as if some creature were approaching them fast. Bunco signed to them to stoop and follow him. They did so, and had not advanced a hundred yards when the loud clatter of hoofs was heard. Bunco crouched instantly and held his gun in readiness, while his black eyes glittered and his expressive features seemed to blaze with eagerness. His followers also crouched among the bushes, and each grasped his club with a feeling that it was but a poor weapon of defence after all—though better than nothing!
They had not to wait long, for, in a few minutes, a beautiful black wild horse came racing like the wind along the clear part of the ravine in the direction of the place where they were concealed. The magnificent creature was going at his utmost speed, being pursued by a large tiger, and the steam burst from his distended nostrils, while his voluminous mane and tail waved wildly in the air. The tiger gained on him rapidly. Its bounds were tremendous; at each leap it rose several feet from the ground. The poor horse was all but exhausted, for he slipped and came down on his knees, when abreast of, and not thirty yards distant from, the place where the travellers lay. The tiger did not miss his opportunity. He crouched and ran along with the twisting motion of a huge cat; then he sprang a clear distance of twenty feet and alighted on the horse’s back, seizing him by the neck with a fearful growl. Now came Bunco’s opportunity. While the noble horse reared and plunged violently in a vain attempt to get rid of his enemy, the cautious native took a steady aim, and was so long about it that some of the party nearly lost patience with him. At last he fired, and the tiger fell off the horse, rolling and kicking about in all directions—evidently badly wounded. The horse meanwhile galloped away and was soon lost to view.
Instead of loading and firing again, Bunco threw down his gun, and, drawing a long knife, rushed in upon his victim. His comrades, who thought him mad, sprang after him, but he had closed with the tiger and plunged his knife into it before they came up. The creature uttered a tremendous roar and writhed rapidly about, throwing up clouds of dust from the dry ground, while Bunco made another dash at him and a plunge with his long knife, but he missed the blow and fell. His comrades closed in and brandished their clubs, but the rapid motions of man and beast rendered it impossible for them to strike an effective blow without running the risk of hitting the man instead of the tiger. In the midst of a whirlwind of dust and leaves, and a tempest of roars and yells, the bold native managed to drive his knife three times into the animal’s side, when it rolled over with a savage growl and expired.
“Are ye hurt, Bunco?” inquired Will Osten with much anxiety, when the man rose, covered with dust and blood, and stood before them.
“No moche hurt, only scrash a bit.”
“Scratched a bit!” exclaimed Larry, “it’s torn to tatters ye ought to be for bein’ so venturesome.”
“That’s so,” said Muggins; “ye shouldn’t ha’ done it, Bunco; what would have comed of us if ye’d bin killed, eh?”
“Oh, dat am noting,” said Bunco, drawing himself up proudly; “me hab kill lots of dem before; but dis one hims die hard.”
Will Osten, who was anxious to ascertain whether the man had really escaped serious injury, put a stop to the conversation by hurrying him off to the nearest pool and washing his wounds. They proved, as he had said, to be trifling—only a slight bite on the shoulder and a few tears, by the animal’s claws, on the arms and thighs. When these were dressed, Bunco went to work actively to skin the tiger,—an operation which he performed with great expedition, and then, having rolled it into a convenient bundle and slung it on his back, he re-loaded his gun and again resumed his duties as guide. They had not gone far when a fierce growling behind them told that other wild animals, probably tigers, had scented out the carcass of the slain animal, and were already quarrelling over their meal.
Shortly after this they came suddenly and quite unexpectedly on a house or hut, which turned out to be the residence of a man who was half Spaniard half Indian. The man received them kindly, and, finding that Bunco could speak Spanish, offered them hospitality with great politeness and evident satisfaction.
“Good luck to ’e, boy,” said Larry, when their host invited them to partake of a substantial meal to which he had been about to sit down when they arrived, “it’s myself’ll be proud to welcome ye to ould Ireland if iver ye come that way.”
“Ask him, Bunco,” said Will Osten, “where we are, how far we are from the coast, and what is the name and distance of the nearest town.”
To these questions the Spaniard replied that they were in the northern part of the Republic of Ecuador, and not, as they had supposed, in Peru, which lay some hundreds of miles to the southward; that a couple of days’ walking would bring them to the coast, and that in two days more they could reach the town of Tacames. This, being one of the few ports on the western coast of South America where vessels touched, was a place from which they might probably be able to make their way to California. He added that there was a rumour of gold having been discovered of late in that region, but, for his part, he didn’t believe it, for he had heard the same rumour several times before, and nothing had ever come of it, at least as far as he knew.
“Ye’re wrong there, intirely, mister what’s-yer-name,” said Larry O’Hale, pausing for a moment in the midst of his devotion to the good things spread before him. “Sure it’s my own brother Ted as wos out there a year gone by, an’ he swore he picked up goold like stones an’ putt them in his pocket, but the capting o’ the ship he sailed in towld him it wos brass, an’ his mates laughed at him to that extint that he flung it all overboord in a passion. Faix, I’ve made up my mind that thereisgoold in Callyforny and that wan Larry O’Hale is distined for to make his fortin’ there—so I’ll throuble ye for another hunk o’ that pottimus, or wotiver ye call it. Prime prog it is, anyhow.”
An earnest discussion here followed as to the probability of gold having been found in California and whether it was worth their while to try their fortune in that direction. During the course of the meal, the Spaniard incidentally mentioned that on the previous night a tiger had broken into his enclosure, and injured a bullock so badly that he had been obliged to kill it, and he had little doubt the same beast would pay him another visit that night.
This was good news to the travellers, all of whom were keen—though not all expert—sportsmen.
As evening had already set in, they begged to be allowed to rest for a little so as to be ready for the tiger when he came. Their host at once conducted them into a small room, where several hammocks were suspended from the walls. Into these they quickly jumped, and, in a few minutes, the concert played by their noses told a tale of sweet repose after a day of unusual toil.
For several hours they slept, and then the Spaniard awoke them with the information that the tiger was coming! Up they sprang, as a matter of course, and with considerable noise too, but Bunco soon impressed them with the necessity of being quiet. The Spaniard had only two guns, one of which he handed to Will Osten. The seamen were of necessity left to be spectators.
It is necessary here to describe the Spaniard’s hut, which was peculiar as to its architecture. It was a mere shed made of bamboo canes closely placed together, and roofed with large cocoa and other leaves. The floor was of rough boards covered with matting. The whole structure stood on the top of a number of strong posts about twelve or fourteen feet from the ground, and the entrance was gained by a ladder which could be drawn up at night. The object of this great elevation and the ladder, was protection from the nocturnal visit of wild beasts such as tigers or jaguars, as well as monkeys of a large size. In the door of this hut there was a hole of about two feet square, at which the host stationed himself with the muzzle of his gun thrust through it. Two smaller holes in the walls, which served for windows, were used on the present occasion as loopholes by Will Osten and Bunco.
Perfect silence was maintained for about half an hour. The sky was cloudless and the moon full. Not a breath of wind stirred a leaf of the forest that encircled the small clearing. The buzz of mosquitoes, or the flapping about of a huge bat alone disturbed the silence of the night, and the watchers were beginning to fear it would turn out to be a false alarm, when the cattle in the yard began to low in a quick yet mournful tone. They knew full well that their enemy was at hand! A few minutes, that appeared an age, of anxiety followed. Then some bullocks that had been purposely fastened near the hut began to bellow furiously. Another instant, and the tiger cleared the fence with a magnificent bound, alighted in the yard, and crouched for a spring. The moon shone full in his glaring eyeballs, making his head a splendid target. Three shots crashed out in one report, and with a roar that would have done credit to the monarch of the African wilderness, this king of the western forest fell down and died.
He was a full-grown tiger with a beautifully marked skin, which Bunco was not long in stripping from the carcass, while the Spaniard, who was highly delighted by this success, set about preparing breakfast. They were all too much excited to think of going to bed again; and, besides, it was within an hour of daybreak.
During the morning Will Osten persuaded his host to give him one of his old guns in exchange for a beautiful silver-mounted hunting knife, which was the only article of value that he happened to possess. With this useful addition to their arms, the travellers resumed their journey shortly after dawn, being convoyed several miles on their way by their amiable host. They parted from him, finally, with much regret and many professions of gratitude and esteem, especially from Larry, who, in the fulness of his impulsive nature, reiterated his pressing invitation to pay him a visit in his “swait little cabin in the bog of Clonave, County Westmeath, ould Ireland!”
We will not drag the reader through every step of the rough and adventurous journey which was accomplished by our travellers in the succeeding week, during which they became so familiar with tigers, that Muggins thought no more of their roaring than he did of the mewing of cats, while Larry actually got the length of kicking the “sarpints” out of his way, although he did express his conviction, now and then, that the “counthry wos mightily in want of a visit from Saint Patrick.” They travelled steadily and surely under the guidance of the faithful Bunco, through tangled brake, and wild morass, and dense forest, and many a mile of sandy plain, until at length they reached the small town and port ofTacames, into which they entered one sultry afternoon, footsore and weary, with their clothes torn almost to tatters, and without a single coin—of any realm whatever—in their pockets.
“Well, here we are at last,” said Will Osten, with a sigh.
“True for ye,” responded Larry.
“That’s so,” said Muggins.
“It’s all well as ends well, which wos Billy Cowper’s opinion,” observed Old Peter.
Bunco made no remark, but he gave a quiet grunt, which might have meant anything—or nothing—as they entered the town.
Chapter Nine.Describes a Surgical Operation, and records the Deliberations of a Council.The town of Tacames, in the republic of Ecuador, is not large, neither is it important to the world, but it appeared both large and important in the eyes of our hero and his comrades. In their circumstances any town would have been regarded as a city of refuge, and their joy on arriving was not much, if at all, marred by the smallness and the poor appearance of the town, which, at that time, consisted of about twenty houses. They were built on the top of posts about twelve or fourteen feet from the ground—like the hut of the Spaniard already described—because, being closely walled in by a dense jungle, tigers and huge monkeys were bold enough to pay the inhabitants nocturnal and unwelcome visits very frequently.“A curious-looking place,” observed Will Osten, as they drew near.“So would the natives obsarve of London or Liverpool,” said Old Peter.“With less cause, however,” replied Will.“That depends on taste,” retorted Old Peter.“Be no manes,” put in Larry; “it neither depinds on taste, nor smell, but feelin’—see now, here’s how it is. We being in Tickamis,feelsit coorious; well av the natives here wos in Londontheywould feel it coorious. It’s all a matter o’ feelin’ d’ye see—wan o’ the five senses.”“Wot a muddlehead you are, Larry,” growled Muggins; “ye don’t even know that there’s six senses.”“Only five,” said the Irishman firmly—“seein’, hearin’, tastin’, smellin’, and feelin’; wot’s the sixth sense?”“One that you are chock full of—it’s non-sense,” replied Muggins.“Think o’ that, now!” exclaimed Larry, with a broad grin; “sure I wint an’ forgot it, an’ the sevinth wan, too, called common sense, of which, Muggins, you haven’t got no more in yer skull than a blue-faced baboon. Hallo! wot’s that? Is it a wild baist on its hind-legs or only a mad man?”He pointed as he spoke to a man who approached them from the town, and whose appearance as well as his actions were well calculated to surprise them. He was a fine-looking man of gigantic size, with a poncho over his shoulders and a Spanish-looking sombrero on his head, but the most curious thing about him was his gait. At one moment he sauntered, holding his face between both hands, next moment he bent double and appeared to stamp with his feet. Then he hurried forward a few paces but paused abruptly, bent down and stamped again. Presently he caught sight of the travellers. At once his antics ceased. He raised himself erect, and advancing quickly, lifted his sombrero and saluted them with the air of a prince.Will Osten addressed him in English, and, to his surprise as well as gratification, the Spaniard replied in the same tongue, which he spoke, however, in a most remarkable way, having learned it chiefly from the skippers of those vessels that touched at the port.“I sall be happy to offer you hospitabilities, gentelmans,” said Don Diego—(for so he styled himself). “If you vill come to meen house you vill grub there.”The grin of unnatural ferocity which Don Diego put on while he spoke, surprised and perplexed the travellers not a little, but he suddenly explained the mystery by clutching his hair, setting his teeth and muttering wildly while he gave a quick stamp with his foot—“Skuse me, gentelmans, I got most desperable ’tack of toothick!”Will Osten attempted to console Don Diego by telling him that he was a surgeon, and that if he could only obtain a pair of pincers he would soon remedy that evil; but the Spaniard shook his head and assured him that there was a miserable man in the town calling himself a vendor of physic, who had already nearly driven him mad by attempting several times to pull the tooth, but in vain.“Indeed,” said the Don, “the last time he have try, I ’fraid I shut up won of his days light—itwasso sore!”Will Osten ultimately persuaded the Spaniard, however, to consent to an operation, and the whole party accompanied him to his house, which was the most substantial in the town. Leaving his comrades there, Will went with Bunco in search of the apothecary, whom he soon found, and who readily lent him a pair of forceps, with which he returned to the residence of Don Diego. Considering his size, Will deemed it advisable to have Larry and Muggins standing by ready to hold him if he should prove obstreperous. This was a wise precaution, for, the moment Will began to pull at the obstinate grinder, the gigantic Don began to roar and then to struggle. The tooth was terribly firm. Will did not wonder that the native dentist had failed. The first wrench had no effect on it. The second—a very powerful one—was equally futile, but it caused Don Diego to roar hideously and to kick, so Will gave a nod to his assistants, who unceremoniously seized the big man in their iron gripe and held him fast. Then our hero threw all his strength into a final effort, and the tooth came out with a crash, and, along with it, a terrible yell from Don Diego, who sent Larry and Muggins staggering against the wall! The relief experienced by the poor man was almost instantaneous; as soon as he could speak he thanked Will in fervid Spanish, and with genuine gratitude.It is interesting to observe how often matters of apparently slight moment in human affairs form turning-points which lead to important results. The incident which we have just related caused Don Diego to entertain such kindly feelings towards Will Osten, that he not only invited him to stay at his house with his companions during their residence in Tacames, but insisted on his accepting a very large fee for the service he had rendered him. Of course this was not objected to in the circumstances, but a still better piece of good fortune than this befell the wanderers. Will found that a number of the inhabitants had been attacked with dysentery, and that the ignorance of the vendor of physic was so great, that he could do nothing for them, except make a few daring experiments, which were eminently unsuccessful. To these poor invalids our embryo doctor was so useful, that after a few days dosing with proper medicine, their health and spirits began to improve rapidly, and their gratitude was such that they heaped upon him every delicacy that the place afforded, such as bananas, plantains, oranges, lemons, pumpkins, melons, sweet potatoes, beef, goat’s flesh, venison, and pork, besides filling his pockets with doubloons! Thus it came to pass, that from absolute destitution Will and his comrades suddenly leaped into a condition of comparative affluence.At the end of a week a council was called, to discuss future proceedings. The council chamber was, as usual, the forest, and Spanish cigarettes assisted the deliberations. Will being called to the chair, which was a tree stump, opened the proceedings by propounding the question, “What shall we do now, for of course we must not trespass too long on the hospitality of Don Diego?”“I don’t see why we shudn’t,” said Larry, “p’raps he’ll have another touch o’ toothache, an’ ’ll want another grinder tuck out.”“That may be, nevertheless it behoves us to fix our future plans without delay. As there are no vessels in port just now, and we cannot tell when any will arrive, it is worth while considering whether we cannot travel by land; also, we must decide whether California or England is to be our destination.”“I vote for Callyforny,” said Larry O’Hale with much energy. “‘Goold for ever,’ is my motto! Make our fortunes right off, go home, take villas in ould Ireland, an’ kape our carriages, wid flunkeys an’ maid-servants an’ such like. Sure av we can’t get by say, we can walk.”“If I had wings, which is wot I haven’t,” said Muggins, with slow precision of utterance, “I might fly over the Andes, likewise the Atlantic, to England, or if I had legs ten fathoms long I might walk to Callyforny; but, havin’ only short legs, more used to the sea than to the land, I votes for stoppin’ where we are for some time, an’, p’raps, a sail will heave in sight an’ take us off, d’ye see?”“Ho!” exclaimed Bunco, with a nod of approval, “and wees kin go huntin’ for amoosement in de meaninwhiles.”“It’s my opinion, sir,” observed Old Peter, “that as we’re all dependent on the money earned by yourself, the least we can do is to leave you to settle the matter of when we start and where we go. What say you, mates?”A general assent being given to this, Will Osten decided that they should remain where they were for a week or a fortnight longer, in the hope of a vessel arriving, and that, in the meantime, as suggested by Bunco, they should amuse themselves by going on a hunting expedition.In accordance with this plan they immediately set about making preparation for a start by borrowing from their host two small canoes, each made of the trunk of a large tree hollowed out. Bunco acted as steersman in one of these. Will Osten, after a few hours’ practice, deemed himself sufficiently expert to take the post of honour in the other, and then, bidding adieu to Don Diego, and embarking with their guns and a large supply of ammunition and provisions, they commenced the ascent of the river Tacames, little thinking that some of the party would never descend that river or see Don Diego again!
The town of Tacames, in the republic of Ecuador, is not large, neither is it important to the world, but it appeared both large and important in the eyes of our hero and his comrades. In their circumstances any town would have been regarded as a city of refuge, and their joy on arriving was not much, if at all, marred by the smallness and the poor appearance of the town, which, at that time, consisted of about twenty houses. They were built on the top of posts about twelve or fourteen feet from the ground—like the hut of the Spaniard already described—because, being closely walled in by a dense jungle, tigers and huge monkeys were bold enough to pay the inhabitants nocturnal and unwelcome visits very frequently.
“A curious-looking place,” observed Will Osten, as they drew near.
“So would the natives obsarve of London or Liverpool,” said Old Peter.
“With less cause, however,” replied Will.
“That depends on taste,” retorted Old Peter.
“Be no manes,” put in Larry; “it neither depinds on taste, nor smell, but feelin’—see now, here’s how it is. We being in Tickamis,feelsit coorious; well av the natives here wos in Londontheywould feel it coorious. It’s all a matter o’ feelin’ d’ye see—wan o’ the five senses.”
“Wot a muddlehead you are, Larry,” growled Muggins; “ye don’t even know that there’s six senses.”
“Only five,” said the Irishman firmly—“seein’, hearin’, tastin’, smellin’, and feelin’; wot’s the sixth sense?”
“One that you are chock full of—it’s non-sense,” replied Muggins.
“Think o’ that, now!” exclaimed Larry, with a broad grin; “sure I wint an’ forgot it, an’ the sevinth wan, too, called common sense, of which, Muggins, you haven’t got no more in yer skull than a blue-faced baboon. Hallo! wot’s that? Is it a wild baist on its hind-legs or only a mad man?”
He pointed as he spoke to a man who approached them from the town, and whose appearance as well as his actions were well calculated to surprise them. He was a fine-looking man of gigantic size, with a poncho over his shoulders and a Spanish-looking sombrero on his head, but the most curious thing about him was his gait. At one moment he sauntered, holding his face between both hands, next moment he bent double and appeared to stamp with his feet. Then he hurried forward a few paces but paused abruptly, bent down and stamped again. Presently he caught sight of the travellers. At once his antics ceased. He raised himself erect, and advancing quickly, lifted his sombrero and saluted them with the air of a prince.
Will Osten addressed him in English, and, to his surprise as well as gratification, the Spaniard replied in the same tongue, which he spoke, however, in a most remarkable way, having learned it chiefly from the skippers of those vessels that touched at the port.
“I sall be happy to offer you hospitabilities, gentelmans,” said Don Diego—(for so he styled himself). “If you vill come to meen house you vill grub there.”
The grin of unnatural ferocity which Don Diego put on while he spoke, surprised and perplexed the travellers not a little, but he suddenly explained the mystery by clutching his hair, setting his teeth and muttering wildly while he gave a quick stamp with his foot—
“Skuse me, gentelmans, I got most desperable ’tack of toothick!”
Will Osten attempted to console Don Diego by telling him that he was a surgeon, and that if he could only obtain a pair of pincers he would soon remedy that evil; but the Spaniard shook his head and assured him that there was a miserable man in the town calling himself a vendor of physic, who had already nearly driven him mad by attempting several times to pull the tooth, but in vain.
“Indeed,” said the Don, “the last time he have try, I ’fraid I shut up won of his days light—itwasso sore!”
Will Osten ultimately persuaded the Spaniard, however, to consent to an operation, and the whole party accompanied him to his house, which was the most substantial in the town. Leaving his comrades there, Will went with Bunco in search of the apothecary, whom he soon found, and who readily lent him a pair of forceps, with which he returned to the residence of Don Diego. Considering his size, Will deemed it advisable to have Larry and Muggins standing by ready to hold him if he should prove obstreperous. This was a wise precaution, for, the moment Will began to pull at the obstinate grinder, the gigantic Don began to roar and then to struggle. The tooth was terribly firm. Will did not wonder that the native dentist had failed. The first wrench had no effect on it. The second—a very powerful one—was equally futile, but it caused Don Diego to roar hideously and to kick, so Will gave a nod to his assistants, who unceremoniously seized the big man in their iron gripe and held him fast. Then our hero threw all his strength into a final effort, and the tooth came out with a crash, and, along with it, a terrible yell from Don Diego, who sent Larry and Muggins staggering against the wall! The relief experienced by the poor man was almost instantaneous; as soon as he could speak he thanked Will in fervid Spanish, and with genuine gratitude.
It is interesting to observe how often matters of apparently slight moment in human affairs form turning-points which lead to important results. The incident which we have just related caused Don Diego to entertain such kindly feelings towards Will Osten, that he not only invited him to stay at his house with his companions during their residence in Tacames, but insisted on his accepting a very large fee for the service he had rendered him. Of course this was not objected to in the circumstances, but a still better piece of good fortune than this befell the wanderers. Will found that a number of the inhabitants had been attacked with dysentery, and that the ignorance of the vendor of physic was so great, that he could do nothing for them, except make a few daring experiments, which were eminently unsuccessful. To these poor invalids our embryo doctor was so useful, that after a few days dosing with proper medicine, their health and spirits began to improve rapidly, and their gratitude was such that they heaped upon him every delicacy that the place afforded, such as bananas, plantains, oranges, lemons, pumpkins, melons, sweet potatoes, beef, goat’s flesh, venison, and pork, besides filling his pockets with doubloons! Thus it came to pass, that from absolute destitution Will and his comrades suddenly leaped into a condition of comparative affluence.
At the end of a week a council was called, to discuss future proceedings. The council chamber was, as usual, the forest, and Spanish cigarettes assisted the deliberations. Will being called to the chair, which was a tree stump, opened the proceedings by propounding the question, “What shall we do now, for of course we must not trespass too long on the hospitality of Don Diego?”
“I don’t see why we shudn’t,” said Larry, “p’raps he’ll have another touch o’ toothache, an’ ’ll want another grinder tuck out.”
“That may be, nevertheless it behoves us to fix our future plans without delay. As there are no vessels in port just now, and we cannot tell when any will arrive, it is worth while considering whether we cannot travel by land; also, we must decide whether California or England is to be our destination.”
“I vote for Callyforny,” said Larry O’Hale with much energy. “‘Goold for ever,’ is my motto! Make our fortunes right off, go home, take villas in ould Ireland, an’ kape our carriages, wid flunkeys an’ maid-servants an’ such like. Sure av we can’t get by say, we can walk.”
“If I had wings, which is wot I haven’t,” said Muggins, with slow precision of utterance, “I might fly over the Andes, likewise the Atlantic, to England, or if I had legs ten fathoms long I might walk to Callyforny; but, havin’ only short legs, more used to the sea than to the land, I votes for stoppin’ where we are for some time, an’, p’raps, a sail will heave in sight an’ take us off, d’ye see?”
“Ho!” exclaimed Bunco, with a nod of approval, “and wees kin go huntin’ for amoosement in de meaninwhiles.”
“It’s my opinion, sir,” observed Old Peter, “that as we’re all dependent on the money earned by yourself, the least we can do is to leave you to settle the matter of when we start and where we go. What say you, mates?”
A general assent being given to this, Will Osten decided that they should remain where they were for a week or a fortnight longer, in the hope of a vessel arriving, and that, in the meantime, as suggested by Bunco, they should amuse themselves by going on a hunting expedition.
In accordance with this plan they immediately set about making preparation for a start by borrowing from their host two small canoes, each made of the trunk of a large tree hollowed out. Bunco acted as steersman in one of these. Will Osten, after a few hours’ practice, deemed himself sufficiently expert to take the post of honour in the other, and then, bidding adieu to Don Diego, and embarking with their guns and a large supply of ammunition and provisions, they commenced the ascent of the river Tacames, little thinking that some of the party would never descend that river or see Don Diego again!
Chapter Ten.Hunting in the Wilds of Ecuador.There is something very delightful and exhilarating in the first start on a hunting expedition into a wild and almost unknown region. After one gets into the thick of it the thoughts are usually too busy and too much in earnest with the actual realities in hand to permit of much rambling into the regions of romance—we saymuchbecause there is alwayssomerambling of this sort—but, during the first day, before the actual work has well begun, while the adventures are as yet only anticipated, and the mind is free to revel in imaginings of what is possible and probable, there is a wild exultation which swells the heart and induces an irresistible tendency to shout. Indeed, on the present occasion, some of the party did shout lustily in order to vent their feelings; and Larry O’Hale, in particular, caused the jungle to echo so loudly with the sounds of his enthusiasm that the affrighted apes and jaguars must have trembled in their skins if they were possessed of ordinary feelings.The scenery, with its accompaniments, was most beautiful and interesting. The river, a narrow one, flowed through a dense and continuous forest; rich and lofty trees over-arched it, affording agreeable shade, and on the branches were to be seen great numbers of kingfishers, parrots, and other birds of rich plumage, which filled the air at least with sound, if not with melody. The concert was further swelled by the constant cries of wild beasts—such as the howl of a tiger or the scream of a monkey. But there is no pleasure without some alloy. On this river mosquitoes were the alloy! These tormenting creatures persecuted the hunters by night as well as by day, for they are amongst the few insects which indulge in the pernicious habit of never going to bed. We cannot indeed say, authoritatively, that mosquitoes never sleep, but we can and do say that they torment human beings, and rob them oftheirsleep, if possible, without intermission. Larry O’Hale being of a fiery nature, was at first driven nearly to distraction, and, as he said himself, he did little else than slap his own face day and night in trying to kill “the little varmints.” Muggins bore up stoically, and all of them became callous in course of time. Fish of many kinds were seen in the clear water, and their first success in the sporting way was the spearing of two fine mullet. Soon after this incident, a herd of brown deer were seen to rush out of the jungle and dash down an open glade, with noses up and antlers resting back on their necks. A shot from Bunco’s gun alarmed but did not hit them, for Bunco had been taken by surprise, and was in an unstable canoe. Before the deer had disappeared, two or three loud roars were heard.“Quick! go ashore,” whispered Bunco, running his canoe in among the overhanging bushes, and jumping out.Three tigers bounded at that moment from the jungle in pursuit of the deer. Bunco took rapid aim, but his old flint gun missed fire. Luckily, Will Osten, having followed his example, was ready. He fired, and one of the tigers fell, mortally wounded. Before he could wriggle into the jungle Bunco ran up and put a bullet into his brain.This was a splendid beginning, and the hunters were loud in their congratulations of each other, while Bunco skinned the tiger. But the reader must not suppose that we intend to chronicle every incident of this kind. We record this as a specimen of their work during the following three weeks. They did not indeed shoot a tiger daily, but they bagged several within that period, besides a number of deer and other game. We must hasten, however, to tell of an event which put a sudden stop to our hero’s hunting at that time, and resulted in the breaking-up of that hitherto united and harmonious party.One evening, a little before sunset, they came upon a small clearing, in the midst of which was a little house erected, in the usual way, upon wooden legs. The hunters found, to their surprise, that it was inhabited by an Englishman named Gordon, who received them with great hospitality and evident pleasure. He lived almost alone, having only one negro man-servant, whose old mother performed the duties of housekeeper. Here they passed the night in pleasant intercourse with a man, who, besides being a countryman—and therefore full of interest about England, from which he heard regularly but at long intervals—was remarkably intelligent, and had travelled in almost every quarter of the globe. As to his motive for secluding himself in such a wild spot, they did not presume to inquire, and never found it out.Next day they bade their host adieu, promising to make a point of spending another night in his house on their return. Our hunters had not gone far when a growl in one of the bushes induced them to land and search for the growler. They found him in the person of a large tiger, which Will Osten caught a glimpse of sneaking away with the lithe motions of a gigantic cat. A hurried shot wounded the beast, which, instead of flying, turned round suddenly, and, with a bound, alighted on our hero’s shoulders. The shock hurled him violently to the ground. During the momentary but terrific struggle for life that followed, Will had presence of mind to draw his hunting-knife, and plunge it, twice, deep into the tiger’s side, but the active claws of the creature tore his thighs and arms; several large blood-vessels were injured; the light faded from the eyes of Wandering Will; his strong arm lost its cunning, and, in the midst of a loud report, mingled with a roar like thunder in his ears, he fainted away.When Will recovered his senses he found himself stretched on his back on a low couch in a hut, with a man kneeling over him, and his comrades gazing into his face with expressions of deep anxiety. Will attempted to speak, but could not; then he tried to move, and, in doing so, fainted. On recovering consciousness, he observed that no one was near him except Larry O’Hale, who lay extended at his side, looking through the open doorway of the hut, while a series of the most seraphic smiles played on his expressive countenance!It would have been an interesting study to have watched the Irishman on that occasion. Just before Will Osten opened his eyes, he was looking into his pale face with an expression that was ludicrously woe-begone. The instant he observed the slightest motion in his patient, however, he became suddenly abstracted, and gazed, as we have said, with a seraphic expression through the doorway. Poor Larry acted thus, in order to avoid alarming his patient by his looks, but, in spite of his utmost caution, Will caught him in the transition state, which so tickled his risible faculties that he burst into a laugh, which only got the length of a sigh, however, and nearly produced another fainting fit.“Ah, then, darlin’!” whispered Larry, with the tenderness of a woman, “don’tdo it now. Sure ye’ll go off again av ye do. Kape quiet, dear. ’Tis all right ye’ll be in a day or two. Bad luck to the baist that did it!”This latter remark brought the scene of the tiger-hunt suddenly to Will’s remembrance, and he whispered, for he had not strength to speak aloud—“Was he killed? Who saved me?”“Kilt!” cried Larry, forgetting his caution in his excitement; “faix he was, an’ Bunco did it, too—blissin’s on his dirty face—putt the ball betune his two eyes an’ took the laist bit of skin off yer own nose, but the blood was spoutin’ from ye like wather, an’ if it hadn’t bin that the cliver feller knowed all about tyin’ up an’—there, honey, I wint an’ forgot—don’t mind me—och! sure, he’s off again!”This was true. Our hero had lost almost the last drop of blood that he could spare with the slightest chance of recovery, and the mere exertion of listening was too much for him.For many weeks he lay in the hut of that hospitable Englishman, slowly but gradually returning from the brink of the grave, and during this period he found his host to be a friend in need, not only to his torn and weak body, but also to his soul.Day after day Gordon sat beside his couch with unwearied kindness, chatting to him about the “old country,” telling him anecdotes of his former life, and gradually leading him to raise his thoughts from the consideration of time to eternity.Will Osten, like every unconverted man, rebelled at this at first; but Gordon was not a man to be easily repulsed. He did notforcereligious thoughts on Will, but his own thoughts were so saturated, if we may say so, with religion, that he could not avoid the subject, and his spirit and manner were so winning that our hero was at last pleased to listen. Will’s recovery was slow and tedious. Before he was able to leave Gordon’s cottage his “independent” spirit was subdued by the Spirit of God, and he was enabled to exchange slavery to Self for freedom in the service of Jesus Christ. For many a day after that did Will Osten lie helpless on his couch, perusing with deep interest the Testament given to him by his mother when he left home.During this period his companions did not forsake him, but spent their time in hunting and conveying the proceeds to Tacames, where they disposed of them profitably. On one of these occasions they found that an English ship had touched at the port in passing, and, among other things, Larry brought a number of old newspapers to the invalid. Among the first that he opened Will read the announcement of the sudden death of his own father! No information was given beyond the usual and formal statement, with the simple addition of the words “deeply regretted.”We need not say that this was a terrible shock to the poor wanderer—a shock which was rendered all the more severe when he reflected that he had parted from his father in anger. In his weak condition, Will could not bear up under the blow, and, for some days, he lay in such a depressed state of mind and body that his comrades began to fear for his life. But after that he rallied, and a sudden improvement took place in his health.One day he called his companions round him, and said:—“Friends, I have resolved to leave you and return to Europe. You know my reasons. I am not a companion, but only a drag upon you; besides, my mother is left unprotected. You will excuse me if I decline to enter into a discussion on this point. I have not strength for it, and my resolve is fixed.”Will paused, and Larry O’Hale, with a leer on his countenance, asked by what road he meant to travel.“Across the Andes to the northern coast of South America,” answered Will, smiling.“An’ you as waik as wather, with legs like the pins of a wather-wagtail!”“That will soon mend,” said Will, jumping up and pulling on his clothes; “get ready to go out hunting with me, Larry, if you have a mind to!”Despite the remonstrances of his friend, Will Osten went out with his gun, trembling with weakness at every step. He was soon induced to return to the cottage, but his resolve was fixed. Next day he went out again, and, finally, in the course of a week or two, had recovered so much of his old vigour that he felt able to set out on his journey. Of course there were many disputings and arguings as to who should go with him, but it was finally agree that Larry and Bunco should be his companions. Indeed these two would take no denial, and vowed that if he declined to accept of them as comrades they would follow him as a rear-guard! Muggins and Old Peter decided that they would return to Tacames, and make their way thence to California.Just before parting, Larry took Muggins aside and said, in as dismal a tone as his jovial spirit was capable of, “It’s little I thought, mate, that you an’ me would come for to part in this way, but ov coorse, I couldn’t leave Mr Osten in such a fix, so, d’ye see, I must say farewell; but kape yer weather eye open, ould boy, for as sure as Larry O’Hale has got two legs, which makes a pair, you’ll see him in Callyforny yit, diggin’ for his fortin’. In the main time, as I know ye’ll want money, an’ as I’ve made a lot more than you by huntin’—becase of being a better shot, d’ye see—here’s a small sum which I axes you to accept of as a testimoniyall of my ondyin’ friendship.”Muggins bluntly refused the leathern bag which Larry thrust into his hand, but he ultimately allowed him to force it into his pocket—and turned away with a sigh.It was a lovely morning when Wandering Will sorrowfully bade his friends farewell, and, with his faithful followers, turned his face towards the snow-capped range of the mighty Andes.
There is something very delightful and exhilarating in the first start on a hunting expedition into a wild and almost unknown region. After one gets into the thick of it the thoughts are usually too busy and too much in earnest with the actual realities in hand to permit of much rambling into the regions of romance—we saymuchbecause there is alwayssomerambling of this sort—but, during the first day, before the actual work has well begun, while the adventures are as yet only anticipated, and the mind is free to revel in imaginings of what is possible and probable, there is a wild exultation which swells the heart and induces an irresistible tendency to shout. Indeed, on the present occasion, some of the party did shout lustily in order to vent their feelings; and Larry O’Hale, in particular, caused the jungle to echo so loudly with the sounds of his enthusiasm that the affrighted apes and jaguars must have trembled in their skins if they were possessed of ordinary feelings.
The scenery, with its accompaniments, was most beautiful and interesting. The river, a narrow one, flowed through a dense and continuous forest; rich and lofty trees over-arched it, affording agreeable shade, and on the branches were to be seen great numbers of kingfishers, parrots, and other birds of rich plumage, which filled the air at least with sound, if not with melody. The concert was further swelled by the constant cries of wild beasts—such as the howl of a tiger or the scream of a monkey. But there is no pleasure without some alloy. On this river mosquitoes were the alloy! These tormenting creatures persecuted the hunters by night as well as by day, for they are amongst the few insects which indulge in the pernicious habit of never going to bed. We cannot indeed say, authoritatively, that mosquitoes never sleep, but we can and do say that they torment human beings, and rob them oftheirsleep, if possible, without intermission. Larry O’Hale being of a fiery nature, was at first driven nearly to distraction, and, as he said himself, he did little else than slap his own face day and night in trying to kill “the little varmints.” Muggins bore up stoically, and all of them became callous in course of time. Fish of many kinds were seen in the clear water, and their first success in the sporting way was the spearing of two fine mullet. Soon after this incident, a herd of brown deer were seen to rush out of the jungle and dash down an open glade, with noses up and antlers resting back on their necks. A shot from Bunco’s gun alarmed but did not hit them, for Bunco had been taken by surprise, and was in an unstable canoe. Before the deer had disappeared, two or three loud roars were heard.
“Quick! go ashore,” whispered Bunco, running his canoe in among the overhanging bushes, and jumping out.
Three tigers bounded at that moment from the jungle in pursuit of the deer. Bunco took rapid aim, but his old flint gun missed fire. Luckily, Will Osten, having followed his example, was ready. He fired, and one of the tigers fell, mortally wounded. Before he could wriggle into the jungle Bunco ran up and put a bullet into his brain.
This was a splendid beginning, and the hunters were loud in their congratulations of each other, while Bunco skinned the tiger. But the reader must not suppose that we intend to chronicle every incident of this kind. We record this as a specimen of their work during the following three weeks. They did not indeed shoot a tiger daily, but they bagged several within that period, besides a number of deer and other game. We must hasten, however, to tell of an event which put a sudden stop to our hero’s hunting at that time, and resulted in the breaking-up of that hitherto united and harmonious party.
One evening, a little before sunset, they came upon a small clearing, in the midst of which was a little house erected, in the usual way, upon wooden legs. The hunters found, to their surprise, that it was inhabited by an Englishman named Gordon, who received them with great hospitality and evident pleasure. He lived almost alone, having only one negro man-servant, whose old mother performed the duties of housekeeper. Here they passed the night in pleasant intercourse with a man, who, besides being a countryman—and therefore full of interest about England, from which he heard regularly but at long intervals—was remarkably intelligent, and had travelled in almost every quarter of the globe. As to his motive for secluding himself in such a wild spot, they did not presume to inquire, and never found it out.
Next day they bade their host adieu, promising to make a point of spending another night in his house on their return. Our hunters had not gone far when a growl in one of the bushes induced them to land and search for the growler. They found him in the person of a large tiger, which Will Osten caught a glimpse of sneaking away with the lithe motions of a gigantic cat. A hurried shot wounded the beast, which, instead of flying, turned round suddenly, and, with a bound, alighted on our hero’s shoulders. The shock hurled him violently to the ground. During the momentary but terrific struggle for life that followed, Will had presence of mind to draw his hunting-knife, and plunge it, twice, deep into the tiger’s side, but the active claws of the creature tore his thighs and arms; several large blood-vessels were injured; the light faded from the eyes of Wandering Will; his strong arm lost its cunning, and, in the midst of a loud report, mingled with a roar like thunder in his ears, he fainted away.
When Will recovered his senses he found himself stretched on his back on a low couch in a hut, with a man kneeling over him, and his comrades gazing into his face with expressions of deep anxiety. Will attempted to speak, but could not; then he tried to move, and, in doing so, fainted. On recovering consciousness, he observed that no one was near him except Larry O’Hale, who lay extended at his side, looking through the open doorway of the hut, while a series of the most seraphic smiles played on his expressive countenance!
It would have been an interesting study to have watched the Irishman on that occasion. Just before Will Osten opened his eyes, he was looking into his pale face with an expression that was ludicrously woe-begone. The instant he observed the slightest motion in his patient, however, he became suddenly abstracted, and gazed, as we have said, with a seraphic expression through the doorway. Poor Larry acted thus, in order to avoid alarming his patient by his looks, but, in spite of his utmost caution, Will caught him in the transition state, which so tickled his risible faculties that he burst into a laugh, which only got the length of a sigh, however, and nearly produced another fainting fit.
“Ah, then, darlin’!” whispered Larry, with the tenderness of a woman, “don’tdo it now. Sure ye’ll go off again av ye do. Kape quiet, dear. ’Tis all right ye’ll be in a day or two. Bad luck to the baist that did it!”
This latter remark brought the scene of the tiger-hunt suddenly to Will’s remembrance, and he whispered, for he had not strength to speak aloud—
“Was he killed? Who saved me?”
“Kilt!” cried Larry, forgetting his caution in his excitement; “faix he was, an’ Bunco did it, too—blissin’s on his dirty face—putt the ball betune his two eyes an’ took the laist bit of skin off yer own nose, but the blood was spoutin’ from ye like wather, an’ if it hadn’t bin that the cliver feller knowed all about tyin’ up an’—there, honey, I wint an’ forgot—don’t mind me—och! sure, he’s off again!”
This was true. Our hero had lost almost the last drop of blood that he could spare with the slightest chance of recovery, and the mere exertion of listening was too much for him.
For many weeks he lay in the hut of that hospitable Englishman, slowly but gradually returning from the brink of the grave, and during this period he found his host to be a friend in need, not only to his torn and weak body, but also to his soul.
Day after day Gordon sat beside his couch with unwearied kindness, chatting to him about the “old country,” telling him anecdotes of his former life, and gradually leading him to raise his thoughts from the consideration of time to eternity.
Will Osten, like every unconverted man, rebelled at this at first; but Gordon was not a man to be easily repulsed. He did notforcereligious thoughts on Will, but his own thoughts were so saturated, if we may say so, with religion, that he could not avoid the subject, and his spirit and manner were so winning that our hero was at last pleased to listen. Will’s recovery was slow and tedious. Before he was able to leave Gordon’s cottage his “independent” spirit was subdued by the Spirit of God, and he was enabled to exchange slavery to Self for freedom in the service of Jesus Christ. For many a day after that did Will Osten lie helpless on his couch, perusing with deep interest the Testament given to him by his mother when he left home.
During this period his companions did not forsake him, but spent their time in hunting and conveying the proceeds to Tacames, where they disposed of them profitably. On one of these occasions they found that an English ship had touched at the port in passing, and, among other things, Larry brought a number of old newspapers to the invalid. Among the first that he opened Will read the announcement of the sudden death of his own father! No information was given beyond the usual and formal statement, with the simple addition of the words “deeply regretted.”
We need not say that this was a terrible shock to the poor wanderer—a shock which was rendered all the more severe when he reflected that he had parted from his father in anger. In his weak condition, Will could not bear up under the blow, and, for some days, he lay in such a depressed state of mind and body that his comrades began to fear for his life. But after that he rallied, and a sudden improvement took place in his health.
One day he called his companions round him, and said:—
“Friends, I have resolved to leave you and return to Europe. You know my reasons. I am not a companion, but only a drag upon you; besides, my mother is left unprotected. You will excuse me if I decline to enter into a discussion on this point. I have not strength for it, and my resolve is fixed.”
Will paused, and Larry O’Hale, with a leer on his countenance, asked by what road he meant to travel.
“Across the Andes to the northern coast of South America,” answered Will, smiling.
“An’ you as waik as wather, with legs like the pins of a wather-wagtail!”
“That will soon mend,” said Will, jumping up and pulling on his clothes; “get ready to go out hunting with me, Larry, if you have a mind to!”
Despite the remonstrances of his friend, Will Osten went out with his gun, trembling with weakness at every step. He was soon induced to return to the cottage, but his resolve was fixed. Next day he went out again, and, finally, in the course of a week or two, had recovered so much of his old vigour that he felt able to set out on his journey. Of course there were many disputings and arguings as to who should go with him, but it was finally agree that Larry and Bunco should be his companions. Indeed these two would take no denial, and vowed that if he declined to accept of them as comrades they would follow him as a rear-guard! Muggins and Old Peter decided that they would return to Tacames, and make their way thence to California.
Just before parting, Larry took Muggins aside and said, in as dismal a tone as his jovial spirit was capable of, “It’s little I thought, mate, that you an’ me would come for to part in this way, but ov coorse, I couldn’t leave Mr Osten in such a fix, so, d’ye see, I must say farewell; but kape yer weather eye open, ould boy, for as sure as Larry O’Hale has got two legs, which makes a pair, you’ll see him in Callyforny yit, diggin’ for his fortin’. In the main time, as I know ye’ll want money, an’ as I’ve made a lot more than you by huntin’—becase of being a better shot, d’ye see—here’s a small sum which I axes you to accept of as a testimoniyall of my ondyin’ friendship.”
Muggins bluntly refused the leathern bag which Larry thrust into his hand, but he ultimately allowed him to force it into his pocket—and turned away with a sigh.
It was a lovely morning when Wandering Will sorrowfully bade his friends farewell, and, with his faithful followers, turned his face towards the snow-capped range of the mighty Andes.