A Night in the Jungle
It was a good quarter of an hour before Jack felt like making another move. As he lay on the log he kept a lookout for the ocelots, but neither of the beasts appeared, the larger having gone to the cave-like opening to learn what was the matter with its mate.
“I must get away from this vicinity,” thought our hero, and at last started off.
He scarcely knew in what direction to turn, for the running away of his pony and his adventures with the wild beasts and in the quicksands had completely bewildered him.
“I’d give a good round sum to be back with our party,” he thought, as he pushed his way through the jungle. “I wonder if they are out searching for me?”
At last he had to rest again, and thinking himself safe for the time being he set about cleaning his hands and face, and also his outfit.
“This is certainly treasure hunting with a vengeance,” he mused. “I think I would have done better had I stuck to the nitrates. Maybe I’ll lose my life and the vultures will pick my bones, just as they did poor Plum’s.”
It made our hero more dismal than ever to think of how Plum had departed, and he was very sober as night drew on and he still found himself alone and with no idea of where he was.
“I’ll have to stay here alone in the dark,” he said, half aloud. “That won’t be pleasant, but it can’t be helped.”
Soon it was so dark that to advance further would have been foolish.
Accordingly Jack came to a halt, and looked around for some means of making himself comfortable for the night.
He did not deem it wise to remain on the ground, where some wild beast might leap upon him, and so looked for some wide-spreading tree among whose branches he might rest in peace.
At length he found a tree to his liking and having taken a final look around, ascended to a number of the upper branches.
Here there was a sort of natural platform, where he might lie without much danger of falling to the ground.
It was now pitch dark, the clouds obscuring the stars in the heavens. He was very hungry but had absolutely nothing with which to gratify his appetite.
“I’ll have to get something for breakfast,” he reasoned. “If I don’t I’ll be likely to starve to death.”
It was but natural that Jack should find sleep difficult, and it was a good two hours before he went off soundly. When he awoke it was with a start.
Jack listened intently, for he realized that some movement at the foot of the tree had awakened him. He tried to look downward, but the darkness and the leaves hid everything from view. He waited with bated breath and soon heard a faint scratching. That some wild animal was at the foot of the tree he had no doubt.
“I hope it doesn’t try to come up,” he thought. “If it does, what am I to do?”
He did not dare to make a noise, and so remained silently on guard. The minutes went by slowly, until a good hour had passed. The noises below continued but that was all.
“Well, even if the beast can’t get up it evidently intends to tree me,” thought Jack, dismally.
Sleep was out of the question, and rather impatiently the youth waited for the coming of dawn.
At last came a faint light in the east and at last daylight was at hand.
For some time Jack had heard no further noises below him and he fondly hoped the thing on the ground--whatever it was--had gone away. But now the noise was repeated, and then came another sound that made him start in wonder and anticipation.
“Can it be possible!” he murmured, and began to climb down the tree with all speed. Soon he reached the lower branches, and looking downward saw his pony resting directly under him!
“Blind luck!” he cried. “And I thought it was a wild beast! How foolish I was not to come down and take a look!”
Not to scare the pony, Jack called out softly, at which the steed pricked up its ears. Then our hero slid down the tree to the ground and caught the pony by the head. It did not offer to run away, but whinnied with evident satisfaction.
It gave Jack great pleasure to find the pony again, and he felt far less lonely than he had during the night. He mounted into the saddle, and, guided by the sun turned in the direction where he thought the mountain trail might lie.
It was a dull day, a peculiar smoky air filling the jungle.
From a distance came the cry of wild birds, but that was all.
Jack journeyed for a good two hours, and then came to what looked like another ravine. But the banks were not so steep as before and he had but little difficulty in going down one side and getting up the other.
“Well, I never!”
This was the cry that burst from his lips half an hour later. A moment before he had realized that the surroundings looked familiar. Now, on the ground before him, he saw his lost pistol, shining among the grass and leaves.
He lost no time in securing the weapon. It was ready for use and with great satisfaction he placed it in his pocket.
“Now I’ve got something with which to defend myself,” he reasoned. “It may not be as good as a gun, but it is better than nothing.”
Onward he went once more, stopping once to get some handsful of berries which he knew were good to eat, and then again for a drink of water for himself and his steed. He had left his former trail, fearful of going in a circle once more,--a common experience of those traveling in a dense forest.
By noon Jack was more than hungry and he decided to shoot something and cook it for a meal. He kept his eyes open, and when some plump birds came close, brought down two with ease. Then a fire was lit, and he spitted the birds and broiled them to his satisfaction. He took his time over the meal, allowing his pony to graze in the meanwhile. Close at hand was a spring of cold, mountain water and at this he quenched his thirst, and the pony did the same.
“There, that makes me feel better,” said the youth to himself. “It will last me until nightfall, and by that time I ought to be able to find the others of the party, or gain some regular trail which leads to somewhere.”
So speaking Jack started to get into the saddle once more. As he did so, he heard a rustling in the leaves of some bushes behind the spring. The pony gave a violent snort and gave a side step, which threw our hero to the ground.
“Whoa there, Firefly!” he called out. “Whoa, I say!”
But instead of quieting down, the pony became more violent and it was impossible for Jack to hold the steed. The pony broke away and like a flash whirled around and disappeared once more into the jungle.
Somewhat bewildered, Jack stood up and gazed around him.
“What can this mean?” he asked himself. The next instant he saw the reason for the pony’s extreme fright. A snake had appeared, coming rapidly over the rocks. It was ten or twelve feet long and as thick as a man’s arm. It was hissing viciously and had its glittering eyes fastened full upon our hero!