CHAPTER III.
A fearful nocturnal concert—Fire! Fire!—A clearing in the forest—A general flight—Masters of the camp!—Mortal weariness—A morning greeting without any compliments—A first meeting—In the village—ALÀ against the Orang-putei.
Not having found even a trace of human habitation either on the second day of our march we were once more compelled to prepare a shelter for the night as best we could. We made two little alcoves of boughs and leaves, and having satisfied the cravings of appetite we lighted a fire on each side of our miniature encampment, piled up enough wood at hand to keep them burning, and settled ourselves down to sleep, or rather one of us had to sleep whilst the other watched, as we had agreed to take turns. In our ignorance we had calculated upon finding ourselves surrounded by a solemn nocturnal stillness in these remote regions; such calm quietness as one enjoys during the night on the Alpine and Appennine woods. We were soon made aware of our mistake, however, for the monkeys, frightened at the glare of the fires, raised a hubbub of protests, their shrill cries and chattering voices reaching to the most acute notes. Leaping up to the very highest branches of the trees they began to shower down upon us broken twigs, leaves, nuts and other fruits. They seemed to be holding a meeting overhead at which each one—and they were a multitude—tried to gabble out a speech and to make himself heard above all the others.
Deeper and more ominous notes were not long wanting to complete the infernal chorus. From the dense, dark forest came the blood-curdling roars of tigers, panthers, and bears mingled with the loud bellowing and heavy stampede of elephants; we could distinctly here the cracking of boughs hurled to the ground in their furious course, and the crashing of bamboo, which with them is a favourite food. One might have said that an immense legion of demons had invaded the forest, because in its intense, impenetrable obscurity, only dimly lighted for a yard or two by the blaze of our fires, everything seemed to turn into life. Every creature, every reed, every leaf had a voice of its own; a howl, a rustle, a sigh that filled the night air with diabolical sounds. It was a fearful pandemonium; a mighty strife twixt victim and victor; an insatiable lust for blood; a ferocious manifestation of ferocious love.
"Fire! Fire! let us put on fuel!" and we threw log after log upon the burning piles whilst thousands of sparks flew upwards and the bright flames cast a red glow around.
But the great voice of the forest did not cease; it still spoke on in the roars and the bellows of the strong and in the yells and wails of the weak. It rose up against us, as though pronouncing a malediction upon the intruders, upon the profaners of those mysteries that, in the inmost recesses of the jungle, great Mother Nature celebrates during the night.
For hours we remained there, in a state it is useless for me even to attempt to describe, and then as day-break approached the fearful clamour began gradually to die away. Evidently at the first streak of dawn the wild beasts had returned to their dens. The monkeys were the last to finish as they had been the first to begin, but what was their chattering and gibbering compared to that terrible chorus which, with freezing veins and paralized brains, we had been obliged to listen to all night?
It has never happened to me to greet a friend with such fervour as I did the sun that morning. At its appearance a new concert commenced, but now it was with the pleasant harmony of the buzzing and humming of insects, blended with the gay singing of birds.
It reanimated us and we began to stretch our poor limbs which, besides being stiffened and benumbed by the horrors of the past night, and the thick dew that had fallen upon us, had also been an unconscious prey to leech and mosquito.