But in spite of the presence of these reptiles, the horses did not hesitate to wade belly deep into the stream and cool themselves while they slaked their thirst. Jack noticed this and remarked about it to Mr. Ryder.
“Alligators are not disposed to attack anything very large,” said the engineer, “although sometimes they do make away with sheep and small calves that come down for a drink. The ’gator is not as ferocious as his cousin the crocodile and I have never heard of any natives being devoured by one, in spite of the fact that the Indians wade the ford here daily.”
Mr. Ryder had hardly finished speaking when a young Indian appeared on the opposite bank followed by a full-grown hound dog. The native was clad only in abbreviated canvas trousers and slung across his back was a tiny mail bag. Jack learned later that his first name was Miguel and that his last name was almost unpronounceable, also that he was the official runner, or messenger, of that section of the country, and that his forefathers had been runners as far back as the days of Montezuma.
The native stood knee deep in the river a moment and emitted several loud whoops at the same time churning the water furiously with his feet. At this the alligators on the bank slipped into the water with a splash and every scaly back and head disappeared. Then the Indian plunged into the stream and waded across, at the same time coaxing the dog to follow. The hound stood whining at the water’s edge, however, and the messenger reached the opposite shore before the animal found sufficient courage to follow. Finally, after much coaxing, he took the plunge and swam toward his master. But he had scarcely passed the middle of the stream when he began to whine again, half raising himself out of the water with his frantic efforts to swim faster. The next instant there was a swirl just behind him and an ugly head appeared on the surface. The dog fairly leapt out of the water at this but he could not avoid the reptile whose dripping jaws closed upon one hind leg.
The native shouted wildly and plunged back into the river again to rescue his pet. But before he had gone two steps, Jack, with great presence of mind, whipped out his revolver. Twice he fired and each bullet found its way into the scaly body. Instantly the water was lashed into foam by the death struggle of the monster. The great jaws opened wide and the reptile awoke the echoes in the hills with a bellow like that of an angry bull. Then it sank out of sight.
Half drowned and with one leg dangling limp and useless the hound dragged itself from the river. The young Indian lifted it in his arms and caressed it gently, at the same time talking effusively to Jack. Of course the American could not understand the messenger, but it was quite evident from the expression on the red man’s face that he was very grateful to Jack and that he admired his quick and accurate shooting.
“What is he saying?” asked the Vermonter, turning to Mr. Ryder.
“He says that you are a very good marksman and that you have a warm heart for a gringo. He promises never to forget your kindness.”
Jack smiled his acknowledgment and prepared to remount his horse, which with the others had withdrawn from the river when the struggling alligator began its frenzied lashing of the water.
It was past midday when the five riders started on their return journey toward the power plant, and the heat was intense. However, as soon as the horses had climbed out of the valley the trail led through a dense forest where huge trees and thickly matted vines shut out all sunlight and all heat as well. Travel, under such circumstances was thoroughly enjoyable, and the five riders swung along in single file until they reached the open country in the vicinity of the great hydro station again.