The faithful fellow was seriously alarmed and set up a mighty wailing which soon brought his followers running over. But the sufferers only turned dull eyes upon them and moaned in their pain. Plainly they were in such a serious condition that unless something was done soon to relieve them, death itself might put an end to their misery. Salloo looked about him wildly, hoping to catch some solution to the mystery of this sudden illness. He raised his eyes upward and his lips moved as if he were invoking the aid of some heathen deity.
But suddenly the expression on his countenance changed. His eyes were fixed on the leaves of a tree under which the sufferers had passed the night. For the first time, too, he became aware of a peculiarly sickening odor in the air. It smelled like carrion. As some huge scarlet flowers which grew on the tree began to open to the daylight (they had been closed at night) this terrible stench became stronger. Salloo uttered a single shout of comprehension.
“Upas!” It was echoed by his companions, whom Salloo at once directed to pick up the sufferers and carry them to some distance. When the last had been transported, Salloo got water from a forest pool and poured it over them. One by one they began to revive. Jack, who was one of the first to come to, rose dizzily to his feet and tried to walk. But Salloo gently made him lie down again. After an hour or so all felt better and partook of some soup and weak tea.
“Salloo, you are forgiven,” said Captain Sparhawk, “but never persuade us to eat lizard again. You came near being the death of us all.”
“Faith, oi was niver so near the Pearly Gates before,” declared Muldoon emphatically.
“Him no lizard hurt you,” declared Salloo vehemently; “lizard heap good. Upas he hurt you. If I no see it and have you moved away you plitty soon have died.”
“What do you mean, Salloo?” asked Mr. Jukes. “Do you mean our sickness had anything to do with the tree we camped under?”
“Ebblyting,” was the reply; “him tree was the upas.”
“I see it all now,” exclaimed Captain Sparhawk. “That tree was the deadly upas of which you may have heard. Every one in the Indian Archipelago knows of it. Within its great red blossoms are the sepulchre of birds and insects whose bodies, lying rotting there, give out that terrible odor which ought to warn all travelers against it. But we camped when it was getting dark and the flowers were closed, keeping the noxious reek from escaping and warning us. Salloo is right, and if he had not had us dragged from under it we should have perished miserably.”
“I remember reading somewhere of the upas,” said Jack, “but I always thought its deadly qualities were exaggerated. After our last night’s experience I’ll know better.”