If the tamandua had been surprised by the disappearance of the tocandeiras, it was not less so to see approaching a creature more than ten times its own size. This creature was of a dark bronze colour, having a long, upright body, a pair of legs still longer, arms almost as long as the legs, and a roundish head with long black hair growing out of its crown, and hanging down over its shoulders. If the ant-eater had never before seen a human being,—which was probable enough,—it saw one now; for this creature was no other than old Munday, who had taken a fancy to capture that tamandua. Perhaps the little quadruped may have mistaken him for an ape, but it must have also thought him the grandest it had ever set eyes upon. Swinging itself from branch to branch, using both claws and tail to effect its flight, it forsook the tree where it had slept, and took to another farther into the forest. But Munday had anticipated this movement, and passed among the branches and over the matted llianas with the agility of an ape,—now climbing up from limb to limb, now letting himself down by some hanging sipo.
He was soon joined in the pursuit by Richard Trevannion, who was an expert climber, and, if unable to overtake the ant-eater in a direct chase, could be of service in helping to drive it back to the tree it had just left, and which stood at the end of a projecting tongue of the forest. It is possible that Munday might have been overmatched, with all his alertness; for the tamandua had reached the narrowest part of the peninsula before he could get there. Once across the isthmus, which consisted of a single tree, it would have had the wide forest before it, and would soon have hidden itself amid the matted tangle of leaves and twigs. Richard, however, was too cunning to let the ant-eater escape him. Dropping into the water, he swam towards the isthmus with all his strength, and reached the tree before the tamandua.
By this time Munday had arrived from the opposite quarter, and was already climbing into the same tree. Seeing itself intercepted on both sides, the tamandua began crawling up towards the topmost branches. But Munday was too quick for it, and springing after, with the agility of a cat, he caught hold of it by one of the hind-legs. Being an animal insignificant in size, and apparently in strength, the spectator supposed he would speedily have dragged it down. In this however they were mistaken, not taking account of the power in its fore-limbs and tail.
Notwithstanding the tapuyo exerted all his strength, he could not detach it from the tree; and even when assisted by his companion, was only able to get the fore-legs free. The tail, lapped several times around a limb, resisted all their efforts. But Munday cut the clinging tail with his knife, leaving two or three of its rings around the branch. Then, twisting the stump around his wrist, he swung the animal back against the trunk with a force that deprived it at once of strength and life.
Chapter Sixty Six.
Roast Ant-Eater.
Instead of returning to the tree, the Indian and Richard swam directly to the dead-wood, where they were quickly joined by the rest of the party. Although the dead-wood was as hard as any other wood, and to sleep upon it would be like sleeping on a plank, still it would give them the feeling of security; so, as if by general consent, though nothing was said, they stretched themselves along the trunk, and were soon fast asleep.
The old Indian, tough as the sipos of his native forests, seemed as if he could live out the remainder of his life without another wink of sleep; and when the rest of his companions were buried in profound repose, he was engaged in an operation that required both energy and the most stoical patience. In a place where the bark was dry, he had picked out a small circular cavity, beside which he had placed some withered leaves and dead twigs collected from the tree that spread its branches above. Kneeling over this cavity, he thrust down into it a straight stick, that had been cut from some species of hard wood, and trimmed clear of knots or other inequalities, twirling it between the palms of his hands so as to produce a rapid motion, now one way, now the other. In about ten minutes a smoke appeared, and soon after sparks were seen among the loose dust that had collected from the friction. Presently the sparks, becoming thicker, united into a flame; and then, dropping the straight stick, he hastily covered the hole with the dry leaves and chips, and, blowing gently under them, was soon cheered by a blaze, over which a cook with even little skill might have prepared a tolerable dinner. This had been Munday’s object; and as soon as he saw his fire fairly under way, without dressing or trussing the game,—not even taking the hide off,—he laid the tamandua across the fire, and left it to cook in its skin.