In Far Bolivia Part 34

"Is this a threat?" cried Roland, fingering his revolver.

But Peter's dark countenance relaxed at once.

"A threat!" he said. "No, no, Mr. Roland. I am an unarmed man, you are armed, and everyone is on your side. But I repeat, my time will come to clear my character; that is all.

"So be it, Mr. Peter."

And the man retired to his tent breathing black curses deep though not aloud.

"I've had enough of this," he told himself. "And escape that young cub's tyranny I must and shall, even should I die in my tracks. Curse them all!"

Next day a deal of towing was required, for the river was running fierce and strong, and swirling in angry eddies and dangerous maelstroms even close to the bank.

This towing was tiresome work, and although all hands bent to it, half a mile an hour was their highest record.

But now they neared the terrible rapids of Antonio, and once more a halt was called for the night, in order that all might be fresh and strong to negotiate these torrents.

Next day they set to work.

All the cargo had to be got on sh.o.r.e, and a few armed men were left to guard it. Then the empty boats were towed up.

For three or four miles the river dashed onward here over its rocky bed, with a noise like distant thunder, a chafing, boiling, angry stream, which but to look at caused the eyes to swim and the senses to reel.

There are stretches of comparatively calm water between the rapids, and glad indeed were Roland's brave fellows to reach these for a breathing-spell.

In the afternoon, before they were half-way through these torrents, a halt was called for the night in a little bay, and the baggage was brought up.

They fell asleep that night with the roar of the rapids in their ears, and the dreams of many of them were far indeed from pleasant.

Morning brought renewal of toil and struggle. But "stout hearts to stey braes" is an excellent old Scottish motto. It was acted on by this gallant expedition, and so in a day or two they found themselves in a fresh turmoil of water beneath the splendid waterfalls of Theotonia.

The river was low, and in consequence the cataract was seen at its best, though not its maddest. Fancy, if you can, paddling to keep your way--not to advance--face to face with a waterfall a mile at least in breadth, and probably forty feet in height, divided into three by rocky little islands, pouring in white-brown sheets sheer down over the rock, and falling with a steady roar into the awful cauldrons beneath. It is like a small Niagara, but, with the hills and rocks and stately woods, and the knowledge that one is in an uncivilized land, among wild beasts and wilder men, far more impressive.

Our young heroes were astonished to note the mult.i.tudes of fish of various kinds on all sides of them. The pools were full.

The larger could be easily speared, but bait of any kind they did not seem to fancy. They were troubled and excited, for up the great stream and through the wild rapids they had made their way in order to sp.a.w.n in the head-waters of the Madeira and its tributaries. But Nature here had erected a barrier.

Yet wild were their attempts to fling themselves over. Many succeeded.

The fittest would survive. Others missed, or, gaining but the rim of the cataract, were hurled back, many being killed.

Another halt, another night of dreaming of all kinds of wild adventures.

The Indians had told the whites, the evening before, strange legends about the deep, almost bottomless, pools beneath the falls.

Down there, according to them, devils dwell, and hold high revelry every time the moon is full. Dark? No it is not dark at the bottom, for Indians who have been dragged down there and afterwards escaped, have related their adventures, and spoken of the splendid caverns lit up by crimson fire, whose mouths open into the water. Caverns more gorgeous and beautiful than eyes of men ever alight upon above-ground. Caverns of crystal, of jasper, onyx, and ruby; caverns around whose stalact.i.tes demons, in the form of six-legged snakes, writhe and crawl, but are nevertheless possessed of the power to change their shapes in the twinkling of an eye from the horrible and grotesque to the beautiful.

Prisoners from the upper world are tortured here, whether men, women, or children, and the awful rites performed are too fearful--so say the Indians--to be even hinted at.

The cargo first and the empty canoes next had to be portaged half a mile on sh.o.r.e and above the lovely linn. This was extremely hard work, but it was safely accomplished at last.

Roland was not only a born general, but a kind-hearted and excellent master. He never lost his temper, nor uttered a bad or impatient word, and thus there was not an Indian there who would not have died for him and his companion d.i.c.k.

Moreover, the officer-Indians found that kind words were more effectual than cuts with the bark whips they carried, or blows with the hand on naked shoulders.

And so the march and voyage was one of peace and comfort.

Accidents, however, were by no means rare, for there were snags and sunken rocks to be guarded against, and more than one of the small canoes were stove and sunk, with the loss of precious lives.

Roland determined not to overwork his crew. This might spoil everything, for many of the swamps in the neighbourhood of which they bivouacked are pestilential in the extreme.

Mosquitoes were found rather a plague at first, but our boys had come prepared.

They carried sheets of fine muslin--the ordinary mosquito-nets are useless--for if a "squeeter" gets one leg through, his body very soon wriggles after, and then he begins to sing a song of thanksgiving before piercing the skin of the sleeper with his poison-laden proboscis. But mosquitoes cannot get through the muslin, and have to sing to themselves on the other side.

After a time, however, the muslin was not thought about, for all hands had received their baptism of blood, and bites were hardly felt.

CHAPTER XX--THE PAGAN PAYNEES WERE THIRSTING FOR BLOOD

A glance at any good map will show the reader the bearings and flow of this romantic and beautiful river, the Madeira. It will show him something else--the suggestive names of some of the cataracts or rapids that have to be negotiated by the enterprising sportsman or traveller in this wild land.

The Misericordia Rapids and the Calderano de Inferno speak for themselves. The latter signifies h.e.l.l's Cauldron, and the former speaks to us of many a terrible accident that has occurred here--boats upset, bodies washed away in the torrent, or men seized and dragged below by voracious alligators before the very eyes of despairing friends.

The Cauldron of h.e.l.l is a terrible place, and consists of a whole series of rapids each more fierce than the other. To attempt to stem currents like these would of course be madness. There is nothing for it but portage for a whole mile and more, and it can easily be guessed that this is slow and toilsome work indeed. Nor was the weather always propitious. Sometimes storms raged through the woods, with thunder, lightning, and drenching rain; or even on the brightest of days, down might sweep a whirlwind, utterly wrecking acres and acres of forest, tearing gigantic trees up by the roots, twisting them as if they were ropes, or tossing them high in air, and after cutting immense gaps through the jungle, retire, as if satisfied with the chaos and devastation worked, to the far-off mountain lands.

Once when, with their rifles in hand, Roland and d.i.c.k were watching a small flock of tapirs at a pond of water, which formed the centre of a green oasis in the dark forest, they noticed a balloon-shaped cloud in the south. It got larger and larger as it advanced towards them, its great twisted tail seeming to trail along the earth.

Lightning played incessantly around it, and as it got nearer loud peals of thunder were heard.

This startled the tapirs. They held their heads aloft and snorted with terror, running a little this way and that, but huddling together at last in a timid crowd.

Down came the awful whirlwind and dashed upon them.

Roland and d.i.c.k threw themselves on the ground, face downwards, expecting death every moment.

The din, the dust, the cras.h.i.+ng and roaring, were terrific!

When the storm had pa.s.sed not a bush or leaf of the wood in which our heroes lay had been stirred. But the glade was now a strange sight.

The waters of the pool had been taken up. The pond was dry. Only half-dead alligators lay there, writhing in agony, but every tapir had been not only killed but broken up, and mingled with twisted trees, pieces of rock, and hillocks of sand.

Truly, although Nature in these regions may very often be seen in her most beautiful aspects, fearful indeed is she when in wrath and rage she comes riding in storms and whirlwinds from off the great table-lands, bent on ravaging the country beneath.