Jack and the Ocelot
The one most satisfied with the result of this first cargo of nitrate was Captain Hillgrove. He had not expected great returns, but found himself so well paid that he was willing to return for another load as soon as possible.
Jack felt confident of his ultimate success. Already he was the possessor of a fair sum, and with the apparently unlimited deposits of nitrate now in his possession, he believed he could easily secure a fortune. As soon as he should get back to Peru he resolved to get possession of other nitrate beds before the price should advance.
But with that far-seeing sagacity of his he made no talk of what he had done or what he had in mind. Quietly he went about his work, engaging several ships to go to South America with him, prepared to return with loads of the precious substance. He fitted up an office at home and put a trusty man in the place to begin to work up a business. He had fondly looked forward to giving this place to Plum Plucky, but stern fate had decreed different plans.
Jenny was enthusiastic over her Jack’s plans, and that they might not be separated so long again she consented to their marriage, which took place before he started on his second trip to Peru, and she accompanied him.
Now that Jack had really got started in his speculations, he studied how best he might promote his interest. His young wife going with him to South America, he resolved to locate in that country until he had got fairly under control the gigantic business he intended to build up.
While successful in his nitrate ventures, he still preserved the manuscript he had picked up in the convict cell on the island of Robinson Crusoe, and he looked forward to the time when he should be able to visit the strange lake in the Andes with means to reach its mysterious island of buried treasure.
So at last, accompanied by a party of surveyors and explorers, armed with papers which would make him the owner of the whole region as soon as the boundaries could be fixed, he started for the place.
He had told his real object to no one, knowing that to do so would be to ruin his prospects without benefiting any one permanently.
He had no difficulty in leading the way to the spur of the Andes where he had met with his thrilling experience with the jaguars, and then the party started for the rocky ridge overlooking the niche in the mountains holding the Devil’s Waters.
It was a route that Jack had traveled several times, and feeling in the best of spirits, he set off on a galop, on the pony he was riding.
“Poor Plum!” he murmured, as he rode along. “How I wish he was a live to enjoy this with me.”
On and on went our hero until he came to where there was a break in the trail. He was absorbed in thought at the time and did not notice that his pony turned to the left instead of the right.
The way seemed easy, and presently the pony set off on a galop, which soon brought Jack out of his revery.
“Hullo! where am I going?” he asked himself, and brought his steed to a halt. Then he gazed around in perplexity. “I declare I must be lost!”
With the memory of what had happened when he had been lost before, Jack lost no time in turning back. But soon he became bewildered, and brought his steed to a standstill a second time.
“What does this mean, Firefly?” he asked of the pony, but the animal could not answer.
Jack heaved a sigh and then drew a pistol he carried.
“I’ll fire a shot--that will attract the attention of the others,” he reasoned. “What a dunce I was to get lost! I surely make a fine leader!” Throwing up the pistol he discharged it. Hardly had he done so when his pony started to bolt. Away dashed the steed under some trees and then through a mass of vines, and Jack was thrown to the ground, striking on his head as he fell,--and then his senses forsook him.
How long he laid where he had fallen he did not know exactly but when he came to his senses, it was to find darkness around him. There was no rain, but heavy clouds filled the air and a heavy breeze filled the woods around him. He got up slowly, to make certain that no bones were broken, and then looked around for his pony. The animal had disappeared and could not be found. His pistol was also gone.
“Now I am surely in a pickle,” reasoned Jack. “The question is, what am I to do next?”
He knew his party must have gone on long before this. He would have to find them in some way. But how?
Not relishing a stay in the bushes he started for higher ground. He had not gone a dozen rods when he found himself at the edge of a ravine, lined with tall trees and vines.
“I certainly did not come that way,” he said to himself. “But beyond is higher ground and I had better go up than down.”
Thus reasoning, he looked around for some means of getting over the ravine. A number of vines grew across, and he determined to test them and if they were strong enough, to use them as a rope for getting across.
The vines appeared to be as firm as a cable, and without giving the matter a second thought he launched himself forth and started to the other side of the cut in the forest.
He had progressed less than two yards when he felt one end of the vines giving way. He tried to turn back, but it was too late, and down he went.
Some heavy bushes broke his fall somewhat, but he continued to go down and down, until with a dull thud he landed on a mass of soft dirt. He was unharmed and soon arose to his feet, to gaze around in fresh dismay.
He had landed in an opening or cave, and presently went down into it still further. Then, as he picked himself up, he heard a sudden low growl, that filled him with fear. He strained his eyes and made out a small animal, which proved to be the cub of an ocelot.
He followed its course to a litter of leaves and straining his glance in that direction made out two other cubs.
They were too small to be dangerous. Plum had told him that there were very few ocelots in that vicinity and these rather cowardly, unless attacked or enraged.
Jack looked hurriedly around. The parent ocelot was not in evidence. The baby cub he had stumbled over, however, was making a great outcry, and our hero decided he would not linger any longer than was necessary.
He got under the hole he had fallen through. It was not accessible by climbing, for the walls of the cave were perfectly perpendicular and came nowhere near the central aperture.
Jack reached up and caught at the dangling end of the broken vine. It sustained one hard pull, but, as he set his full weight, it tore up roots and all, bringing down a shower of dirt and gravel.
About eight feet over his head the youth made out an exposed root of the tree. It ran out of the solid dirt a few inches, looped, and was again solidly imbedded.
If he could reach this, he could grasp higher pieces of roots that showed plainly, and easily draw himself to terra firma.
Our hero went back to the extreme end of the cave. The young cubs set up outcries of affright as he passed near them, but he paid no attention to them.
He braced for a run and a jump to reach the piece of root that was the bottom rung of a natural ladder to liberty.
Poised on one foot, Jack stood motionless in some dismay. The entrance to the cave was suddenly darkened. A great heavy body dropped through. The mother ocelot landed on four feet on the cave floor with a terrific growl.
She ran first to her crying cubs, nosed them affectionately, and then turned with low, ominous growlings.
Jack saw the beast’s eyes fix themselves upon him. They glowed with fire and fury. Its collar ruffled and its white teeth showed.
Jack had not so much as a stick to defend himself with. He had loaned his hunting knife to a friend when they first started and his pistol had been dropped in the woods.
In his pocket was a small pocket knife. He was groping for this when the ocelot, that had for a minute or two stood perfectly motionless, made a forward movement.
It was not a spring or a glide, but a rush. Jack knew why they called this species the Honey Eater. Its paws were enormous and armed with long curved sharp pointed claws.
He was hedged in. The beast, still advancing, reared on its hind feet.
Its forepaws were extended and whipping the air. Jack knew that one contact would tear the bark from the toughest tree. He mechanically seized the first object his groping fingers met in his coat pocket.
It was one of two condiment bottles that he had brought from the last camp. This was the one containing pepper.
In a desperate sort of a way Jack discovered this. He tore off the top of the bottle.
It was all that he could do to stay the course of the determined animal.
As the ocelot thrust out one formidable paw to tear its victim into its clasp, Jack flung the contents of the pepper bottle squarely into its eyes.