On the ground, clasped in a deadly embrace, lay a tamandua and a jaguar. The tamandua is best known as the ant-eater, and is a tough-skinned, slothful animal, bulky, muscular, and dangerous when attacked.
“I was stalking the jaguar,” Case said, approaching the bodies, “when he turned on me. I didn’t know what to do, so I mounted a tree, which was some climb—believe me! Then the ant-eater blundered along, and it looked as if the tiger was so mad because he had been delayed in getting me that he attacked the fellow. And there they lie! My, but they kept each other busy for a spell.”
“The jaguar would have kept you busy if the ant-eater hadn’t happened along!” Frank declared. “He would have been up that tree in no time. You are lucky to be alive!”
The boys found their way back to the Rambler and delighted the heart of Alex by beginning preparations for supper. Clay decided that they should have a “native” meal, as a fowl shot earlier in the afternoon would form the piece d’ resistance. Besides the fowl, which was roasted at a fire on the shore—alligators paddling about the shore and slapping the water and the sand with their unwieldy tails as the roasting went on—they had bread made of the product of the mandioca plant. This plant means as much to the people of Brazil as the potato does to the inhabitants of our Northern states.
It produces farina, cassava, and tapioca, all of which are made from the roots, which are peeled like potatoes. In order to produce most of the products of the plant the pulp secured from the roots is squeezed dry by twisting it in a bag. The juice thus secured is poisonous when new, but when fermented it makes the whisky of the Amazon valley.
The boys also had a fish fresh from the river, and Jule insisted on having this roasted also. Even the coffee they had brought in with them was a product of Brazil.
After supper they sat for a long time watching the moon rise over the river. It came out of a bank of clouds at first, but directly a long, bright path lay along the rippling surface of the water, seeming to lead straight back to the Atlantic coast. Alligators innumerable came out and raced clumsily about—playing, Frank said. Off in the forest they could hear the call of a jaguar, probably the mate of the one that had been killed by the ant-eater.
A great chattering in the trees told of the presence of monkeys, but the boys did not molest them. The alligators, too, were immune from the guns of the party. The only thing the lads killed relentlessly, at all times and under all circumstances, was the snake.
“I move,” Clay began, as they all sat under the wire netting, looking out on the attractive and unfamiliar scene, “that we go on to Cloud island in the morning and do our exploring when we come down. I have a notion that this Lewiso and the Englishmen will do murder up there unless we stifle their cause of combat by taking the gold ourselves.”
“I second the motion!” Case cried.