The Black Phantom

by Leo E. Miller

A sighing breeze sifted its way through the whimpering leaves; again the deadly calm; then a dull roar, distant at first, but gaining in volume with each passing heartbeat. With a crash that rent the tallest ceiba from the topmost branches to the buttressed roots, Siluk arrived. The trees bent and groaned before the furious onslaught of the wind that enfiladed their ranks and tore off branches a foot through and hurled them to the ground; a deluge of water beat down upon them from above; and in the glare of the brilliant, blue-green lightning flashes, the startled eyes of trembling wild things saw the weaker and more venerable monarchs of the forest succumb to the unequal struggle and fall with a roar that made itself heard above the drumfire peals of thunder.

But, terrible as the Storm-God was in all the majesty of his unleashed fury, it was not he alone that the trembling denizens of the wilderness feared. Rather, it was the thing he portended, the message he brought. For, with this coming of Siluk, began the dismal season of seemingly unending rains when the waters of the lowlands reached their flood stage and drove into the higher, forested country that crafty, merciless terror from which few were safe and which was held in awe and dreaded by even the strongest among them.

Suma, the Jaguar, basking in the glaring sunlight, awoke with a start, stretched her massive forelegs, yawned, then snapped halfheartedly at the annoying insects that buzzed about her ears and stung her lips; and lowered her head for another nap. But, sleep came slowly and then it was for short periods of time only. Something stirred within her and warned her of a coming danger—not from the other inhabitants of the wilderness for among them there was none to dispute her sovereignty; rather, she looked upon the wild folk as creatures that had been provided to satisfy her hunger, gratify her whims when in a playful mood, or upon which to vent her rage. Besides, the flat-topped rock she had chosen for her daily resting place was well out from the banks where unknown peril might lurk and high enough above the sluggish, yellow river to discourage the designing crocodiles that swarmed below. In the open, and in a fair fight these repulsive reptiles were easy victims of her power and cunning; but, taken unawares, she would find them formidable adversaries. For this reason she drank only of the shallowest pools, and refrained from swimming, reaching her abiding place over a series of conveniently-placed boulders that served as stepping stones.

All through the torrid day the disquieting impulse warned her to be up and on her way—just as the birds feel the urge of an irresistible voice to desert the land of their birth and to seek a foreign clime as the change of the season draws near, and, heeding it, run the gauntlet of long migrations through uncharted space.

But, Suma was loath to give up the life of ease and plenty on the sandbanks for the sterner existence in the forested country. Not until she was driven from them would she undertake the long, fatiguing journey to the more elevated regions.

The river was at its lowest stage. Vast islands and low, flat bars dotted its winding course. The latter extended far as the eye could see on both sides of the now narrow channel. Young turtles in legion were emerging from the hot, sun-baked sand and making for the water the instant they breathed the outer air as if their very lives depended on it, and they did—for during the hours of daylight there were herons, an ever-present host of hawks, and other predaceous birds waiting for the eggs to hatch and eager to feast on the defenseless horde the instant the little creatures pushed their heads through the crumbling sand and while they scrambled frantically toward the water and safety. At night the four-footed animals from miles around gathered on the bars to growl and to snarl at one another and to feast on the manna so bountifully spread by heaven for the delectation of all. Fights were almost unknown for full stomachs were not conducive to quarrelsomeness. Nor must it be thought that Nature was cruel to the turtles only to be generous to the other creatures. This very emergency had been amply provided for by the fact that each adult turtle during her annual visit to land deposited as many as one hundred eggs in the hole she carefully scooped in the sand, and had all her offspring survived the rivers would soon be overstocked, constituting a real menace to the perpetuation of the race. So long as the others took their toll, that generation was safe.

Crocodiles too were bursting through their tough, leathery egg-shells, but in smaller numbers. They were vicious little creatures right from the start, snapping quickly and savagely at everything that interfered with their rapid march to the muddy stream. But they too had their enemies and numbers did not live to reach the water’s edge, in spite of the fact that the mother caiman had the unpleasant habit of keeping a watchful eye on her nest and escorting her brood to safety if she chanced to be present when it came into the world. If an overzealous jabirou stork or a gluttonous opossum ventured near she charged with a hoarse bellow that put the intruder to flight; and while she was thus engaged, some other keen-visaged marauder would be sure to take advantage of the opening created by her absence to satisfy his rapacious cravings.

But the turtles and the crocodiles were not the only delicacies the sandbars provided. There were iguanas two yards long, and on the knolls where the wind had blown the sand into heaps fat young skimmers and terns were testing their wings for the new life that lay before them in the air.

The shallow inlets were full of fish. They came out of the deeper water at night to spawn, and could be dragged ashore with little effort.

From such a well-stocked hunting ground Suma was not eager to depart. Day after day the journey was postponed, and the procrastination, as usual, brought evil consequences.