Some three hours later, after making but slow progress through a jungle which was very dense in parts, and after having crossed a stream, the bed of which was soft and boggy, they came to the rocky part where no vegetation had succeeded in growing. It was almost dark then, and experience told them that within a few minutes it would be impossible to see more than a foot or two before them; for in jungle countries, even under a brilliant moon, the shadows beneath the trees are of the densest. No light can penetrate those thick masses of leaves and the thousands of gaily flowered creepers which cling to the branches. Here and there, perhaps, where the leaves give back from one another, or where a veteran of the forest has fallen to the ground, some few rays will filter through, making the trunks beneath look strangely ghostly, but for the most part there is dense darkness, the kind of darkness which one can almost feel.
"Here we camp for the night," said Jim, slipping from his saddle. "Tomkins, I am going ahead with the two negroes and the Chinaman. I leave Mr. Barton in charge of the whole party remaining; but of course, if there is fighting, you will handle your men. See here, I'm going to try to come up to the camp those fellows will have formed and snatch away their prisoner. Whatever happens, ride at the first streak of light and follow our tracks; we'll take good care to make them clear and open. Tom shall blaze the trees as we pass."
Some fifteen minutes later, having meanwhile partaken of a hurried meal, Jim, with Sam and Tom and Ching, slipped away from the little camp where their friends were lying. For a minute, perhaps, the gleam of the lamp that Sam carried remained visible; then the jungle swallowed it effectually, so that presently our hero had disappeared entirely. He was gone on an expedition which might bring success or failure, and which in any case meant danger for him and his little party.
CHAPTER XVII
On the Track of Miscreants
To those who have had no experience of the jungle, who happen never to have passed a night in such tropical forests as those which clothe the ground about the Isthmus of Panama, the deadly silence that pervades everything is perhaps the most noticeable feature of all. It is almost terrifying in its intensity, and with dense darkness to help it is apt to awe even the boldest. And when, as happens so often, that silence is suddenly and most unexpectedly broken by the call of some prowling wild beast, when a sharp hissing sound and a rustling amongst the fallen leaves near at hand tells of a creeping snake, then indeed the nerves tingle, the novice feels a strange sensation about the roots of his hair, while perspiration gathers thickly on his forehead. Yes, the bravest are awed. Even the old hand, the experienced hunter, holds his breath and halts to listen, his senses all alert, ready to defend his life against danger.
So it was with Jim and his friends. One only was accustomed to the jungle; and for a while, after diving into its darkness, they were overawed by its deathly silence at one moment, and at another moment by the weird calls which came to their ears. The lamplight shining on Tom's face demonstrated the fact that he was trying to smile; but it was an uneasy and an unnatural movement.
"By de poker," he gasped, "but not like dis at all! De leaves whisper murder. De branches ob de trees call out and say: 'Take care'. Tom all ob a shiber."
"He, he, he! Yo not like him, dis forest," grinned Ching, though, to tell the truth, the Chinaman's slanting eyes were moving restlessly from side to side, in a manner which denoted fear. "Yo hold de hand ob dis Chinaboy; den feel braver. No harm come when Ching near. Yo come along wid me, Tom."