01 Amazon Adventure (21 page)

He stopped and stared at Hal. Then he came on with a rush. Hal raised his gun. He lowered it again when he saw that Croc was not armed. Croc collapsed at his feet.

‘Buddy, am I glad to see you!’ he whined. ‘Don’t let them, buddy. Don’t let them get me.’ He threw his arms around Hal’s leg and sobbed, ‘They’ll kill me, buddy. That’s what they’ll do. They’ll kill me.’

‘And a good job too,’ said Hal, kicking the man off. ‘Don’t you think it’s a little strange to come to me for help?’

‘Listen, buddy, listen,’ wailed Croc. ‘We’re white men, ain’t we? We white men have got to stick together. You won’t let those dagoes get me?’

‘Did you fire that village?’

‘Oh that — that was a mistake.’

‘Did you kill any Indians?’

‘Not many. What’s a few Indians?’ He slowly got

up and looked behind him, still trembling. They’re after me. Where’s your camp, buddy?’

Hal looked him over for a long minute. How he would enjoy filling this skunk with lead! He ought to give the cringing cur a kick and send him out into the jungle to die or be captured by Indians,

He turned and led the way to the camp. Croc, as big and shambling as a giant anteater, shuffled along beside him. ‘God’ll bless you for this, buddy,’ he croaked. ‘I knew you couldn’t leave a man alone in this beastly jungle. You and me is going to be friends, eh buddy? Best of friends. Everything forgotten and forgiven, ain’t that right? That’s the spirit.’

He pulled up short as they came out into the camp site.

‘Where’s your men?’

‘Gone up river.’

‘Cripes! That’s the way with them Indians. Never can trust them. Did you lose your animals too?’

‘No. They’re in the batalao, just around the bend.’

‘Fine!’ Croc said with enthusiasm. ‘Buddy, you’re in luck. Just when you lose your men I come along. You can depend upon me. I’ll help you get that boat down river. Least I can do. Got anything to eat, buddy? I ain’t eaten for twenty-four hours.’

Hal fed the man.

‘Where’s your brother?’ asked Croc. ‘Out gunning for game?’

‘No. Back there in his hammock. Fever.’

‘Ain’t that just too bad. You really are alone, aren’t you?’

Hal glanced at him sharply. Tm alone, but that doesn’t mean that you can try any tricks. You’re alone too. We saw your friends go by last night. How did you escape? I’ll bet you were hiding in the bushes while they were fighting.’

‘What’s die use of having men if you don’t make ‘em fight for you? Now, let’s not get to arguing. Let’s be done with feudin’. Sort of thing I been through sobers a man up. I made up my mind back there in the jungle that if the good Lord would just bring me out safe I’d never touch a hair of any man’s head again. I’d be as gentle as a lamb. That’s the way I says it to myself — gentle as a lamb. I wouldn’t hurt nobody, no matter what I was paid to do it. I tell you, when you get to where any minute may be your last, you change your mind about a lot of things. And when I saw you — I couldn’t ‘a’ been gladder to see my own brother.’ He helped himself to another large piece of dried meat. ‘Yes, sir, that’s what we’ll be, brothers.’

‘Like Abel and Cain,’ said Hal, but Croc did not catch his meaning.

‘Just like brothers,’ he repeated. He looked out across the Amazon. Hal followed his gaze. The. water was higher than the day before and the current past the point was more swift. An uprooted tree drifted by. Floating islands, always to be seen in the Amazon, were more frequent now. They were signs of the coming of the great annual flood.

‘Must be heavy rains up river,’ Croc said. ‘A week from now right here where we’re sitting will be under water. Chunks of dirt big enough to build a house on will be floating down. And them drifting trees can stave in a boat without trying. But don’t you worry — we’ll put your craft safe into Manaos before things get too bad. Lucky I came along. Leave it to me, buddy.’ He stood up, grinned his ugly grin and thumped himself bravely on the chest.

An arrow whizzed past him and struck a tree. Croc was in the bushes in a trice. Hal could hear him running heavily through the underbrush.

Roger called weakly from his hammock, ‘What’s up?’

‘Lie low,’ Hal warned. ‘Indians.’

He advanced in the direction from which the arrow had come. ‘We are friends!’ he shouted in the lingua geral, the general language of the Indians.

The answer he got was another arrow, barely missing his shoulder.

He thought of the nine headless men and of Roger lying helpless in his hammock. The best way to defend Roger would be to carry the fight away from him, up into the woods. He ran forward. His gun was ready. If they would not accept friendship they would have to take bullets.

As he broke into the jungle another arrow sang by. He thought it strange that the arrows always came singly.

Then he saw the reason — there was just one Indian. Upon seeing that he was pursued by a man with a gun, he turned and fled. Hal followed him for about half a mile. The Indian was too fleet for him and finally disappeared in the direction of the burned village.

He was doubtless a scout. He would come back with all the warriors of the village. Hal ran back to camp. There was no time to be lost. He and Roger and their unwelcome guest must board the Ark at once and be off.

He stripped down the hammocks and carried them and Roger’s heavy, half-conscious form through the underbrush to the shores of the bay. He had not had time to think of Croc. Now he felt a cold dread of what he might discover when he came out on the beach.

He burst from the thick screen of leaves into the sunshine, and halted. It was true then. A man really could be capable of sailing off and leaving two boys at the mercy of the jungle, and of hostile Indians. The Ark did not lie moored near the beach.

Far out in the river the Ark sped downstream under full sail aided by a powerful current. Croc had nothing to do but steer. He stood on the steering platform at the stern with his hand on the tiller. He waved his other hand and his harsh voice came distantly across the water.

‘So long, buddy. See you in hell!’

Hal raised his gun. He lowered it again — the range was too great. Besides he remembered that he had only one cartridge left. That one had Croc’s name on it. Somehow he would catch up with that devil and bore a hole clear through his evil carcass.

As he calmed down he realized that his chances of ever seeing Croc again were slim.

He laid Roger on the sand and began to take stock of the situation. He had no boat. He had no tools to make one. He had his hunting knife and, given a week, he might whittle out a raft. He was given not a week, but only minutes, an hour or so at the most. The scout might not have had to go all the way back to his village to contact his band. The Indians had been hunting Croc and might be very near by.

He and Roger might hide in the jungle. But they had none of the things they would need. He had stowed everything on the Ark in preparation for sailing. Even the pans he had used to get breakfast were on board.

He took an inventory. Between them they had two shirts, two pairs of trousers, two pairs of alpargata sandals, two hammocks, one knife, one gun with one bullet — and that one bullet reserved.

Nor was the jungle a good hiding place from Indians. The enraged Indians scouring the forest in search of Croc would find them sooner or later.

And the greatest objection to hiding out in the woods was that it would not bring him any closer to Croc. As he watched the black speck of the Ark disappearing down river it seemed futile to hope to bring Croc to a reckoning, or to recover his collection.

That was the worst of it — losing the animals. That meant failure for his father’s business and victory for Shark Sands and his henchmen. It meant, too, that Hal would not get the chance to go to the South Seas — the reward that had been offered by his father for success in the Amazon enterprise. But he was not ready to give up yet.

His roving eye lit upon a floating island passing the mouth of the bay. A wild thought came to him. He did not stop to analyse it — there was no time to weigh chances. He lifted Roger and made his way out to the end of the point.

The river was browner, more turbid, and more rapid than usual. The main current boiled past close to the point. Something colossal must be going on in the headwaters on the flanks of the Andes. The swollen river was dotted with moving islands. They were of different kinds, although all due to the same cause — flood.

One that passed very close was a kind that he did not care to trust — a bed of water hyacinths torn loose from some marsh. Only the leaves and flowers showed above the surface. Below, the bulbs

must be tangled together in a tightly-knit mass. But the whole mat was not more than a foot thick and might not support two husky boys. Even if it did, one of those great floating trees with branches milling around like paddle wheels, and roots projecting like the tentacles of an octopus, might roll over the islet, destroying it and everyone who happened to be on it. Many boats, even large steamers, had been stove in by those crazily thrashing trees.

Then there were islands made up of brush. In some rapids a bush had caught on a rock. Other bushes, sticks and logs had joined it, and the whole had been matted firmly in one solid mass and had finally broken loose to sail downstream as an island — an island without soil.

But more amazing were the islands that had soil, plants, even trees — everything an island should have except the ability to stay in one place. A strong current had undercut a piece of land and carried it off entire. Some of these islands were two hundred feet across. He had heard that they were at times twenty feet thick.

But Hal could not wait for the ideal island — he must take the first reasonable chance that came along. He explained his purpose to Roger who only half-understood what it was all about. Something that looked like a large pasture came floating down and when it grazed the point Hal stepped aboard with his burden. He was thankful that he did not immediately sink through into the river.

In a moment the point was left behind and the two boys were embarked upon as strange a voyage as anyone had ever made.

Perhaps it had been a crazy idea. But anything was better, Hal told himself, than sitting on shore waiting to be beheaded. Now they were leaving behind those eternally thumping, nerve-wearing drums. And he was on the trail of Croc.

True, Croc could go faster with a sail than he could on a floating island. But suppose the wind dropped, or veered to blow upstream. Suppose Croc got caught on a sandbar or on a sunken log. Lots of things might happen to delay him. Hal considered that he had a fighting chance.

He surveyed his floating kingdom. He laid Roger down in the grass and walked about, frequently testing the ground to be sure that it was strong enough to hold him. His island was a good half acre in size. Much of it was in grass but there were also many small trees, especially cecropias, rubber trees and bamboos. The fast-growing bamboo was tall but all the other trees were not more than a few feet high.

Hal’s active mind went to work on this curious fact and he came out with what he believed to be the answer. His island was quite evidently only a year old. The flood of a year ago had deposited a half acre of silt somewhere and, when the water subsided, there was a new island. Seeds sprouted and trees attained a year’s growth. And now comes this year’s flood to undercut the island, lift it from its firm base, and carry it off bodily down river.

The only trouble with his theory was the fact that on the downstream side of the island lay an enormous tree that must have taken a hundred years to grow. He walked over to examine it. It was a great silk-cotton, or kapok tree. Its trunk lay in the water and its huge branches rose some fifty feet into the air. At the base of the trunk was a tangle of big roots.

No, his theory still held water. This tree was not a part of the island. The two had merely become jammed together while floating down river.

But he could use the fallen giant to good advantage. He strung up the hammocks between the branches, then brought Roger and laid him in his hammock where he would not be in danger from snakes or army ants or any other wild life that might be on this little floating world.

Which reminded him that he must feed his patient and himself. That was a sobering thought. Many an adventurer in the Amazon forests had died of hunger even though he had the entire jungle to draw upon. Hal had only the resources of a half acre. Robinson Crusoe had had much more to work with.

Hal spent the rest of the day having bright ideas that didn’t work out. He looked among the bamboos for shoots, but there were none small enough to be edible. He tried the berries on a bush, only to make himself sick. He saw a little tree which he believed to be the famous cow tree which, when slashed, gives forth a very good substitute for cow’s milk. He slashed this one but it was too small — only a few white drops exuded.

This was proving more of a job than he had expected. Once he had read The Fighting Forces Handbook, Survival, and had derived from it the idea that survival whether in the jungle, in the Arctic, in the desert or at sea, was really a simple matter. It did not appear so simple now.

But there must be plenty of fish in the river. He had no line — but he would catch them as the Indians did. He spent two hours fashioning a wooden spear with a barbed point. Then he went to the edge and looked down into the swirling current.

He soon realized that he had wasted his time. The current was so full of silt that he could not see one inch into its depths.

A heavy squall came up and Hal was promptly drenched to the skin. He didn’t mind that. But after the rain came a strong wind, with nothing to stop its sweep across the great river, here eight or nine miles wide. Hal began to shake in his wet clothes and long for the shelter of the forest. It was hard to believe that he was within four degrees of the equator.

He continued his vain quest for food until dark. As night closed in, he made his brother as comfortable as possible. Fortunately Roger had been protected from the rain by the canvas over his hammock.