The Jungle Trail/Chapter 7

OW the dense jungle was filled with its usual early morning noises as its denizens went about the serious business of obtaining breakfast and at the same time seeing to it that they did not themselves furnish a breakfast for stronger beasts: and now the note of the monkey-chatter changed in an instant, and little bodies flew through the trees as the tiny animals hurried away. Birds of gay plumage shrieked their warnings as they flashed their gorgeous wings and took flight; and danger cries arose on every side.

The din increased as the birds circled above the jungle: and the monkeys demanded of one another which had given the first warning, and the reason for it.

And then, at the crest of a hill, the brush was parted and the head of Tarama showed for an instant—rather only the two eyes of him—and from safe distances the monkeys shrieked their taunts and demanded in monkey language why he had invaded their particular stretch of country.

A moment of watching and listening, and then Tarama stepped into the open and bent back to part the brush, and Bartolmeo Botello came into view, holding his bride in his arms.

"Here is the little cave, master," Tarama said in a low voice; and he led the way toward it.

It was scarcely a cave, little more than a hole in the side of the rocky mountain, yet so placed that a man could defend it for a long time against heavy odds had he the valor. Before it Botello put Inez down upon her tiny feet, touched her lips with his, and tried hard to smile at her. But it was only the poor semblance of a smile that he gave, and she made no effort to respond to it.

"Water," Botello whispered aside; and Tarama took the gourd from his belt and slipped into the jungle in search. Now Inez was sitting on a rock at the cave's mouth, and as Botello turned toward her she looked up and gave him a weary smile with so much of fatigue in it that he went down on his knees beside her and clasped her in his arms and held her close, her face against his breast.

"It grieves me," he said, and would trust himself to say no more. And her answer came to him in a faint voice from which all the tone he loved had gone.

"Be—of good courage—Bartolmeo mine. We'll win—through." Five days and nights they had fought their way through the jungle, eluding the pursuit, subsisting on what food Tarama found in its wild state, afraid to kindle a lire, alert for hostile natives and snakes and jungle beasts, fighting thick vines that barred the way and curling roots that looped beneath dead vegetation ready to trip a foot.

This was not the Inez who had been so brave in the governor's house at Antigua. Gone was her finery; now she was dressed in the cast-off clothing of an Indian girl, which Tarama had stolen for her the second night.

Her throat and arms were bare, stung by insects, burned by the sun, touched here and there by stinging poison vines. Thick leaves had been plastered about her feet with mud and bound there with creepers—and such things served as shoes.

Botello feared, too, that the jungle fever of which his excellency had made a jest would appear in reality now. And they had covered less than half the distance to the camp of De Balboa on the shore of the Great South Sea.

Yet she smiled as well as she could, and her eyes sparkled when they looked into Botello's, and always her heart sang young love's song. Her condition, she knew, pained Botello more than it did her. And it would be a matter of triumph to win through despite these obstacles and hardships—such a triumph as love delights in and one to cement her closer to her husband.

"Here we must rest, beloved," Botello said now. "A night, a day and another night, and then we urge forward again. Your feet must heal, beloved, and you must have rest and food and water. Yet it grieves me—"

Inez raised a hand and put it over his lips.

"Say it not!" she implored. "I would not have things otherwise, my Bartolmeo. Love can conquer even the jungle trail."

Tarama returned with the water, and she drank; and then Botello made her a bed just inside the cave, and soon she was asleep. As she slept, Botello and Tarama held counsel. Tarama would slip away, it was decided, for here Botello and his bride would be safe for a time without the native; Tarama would use what skill he possessed in discovering the whereabouts of the pursuit and conditions in the country ahead. That night and the following day he would remain in the jungle, and during the second night he would return.

There followed muttered words of caution and advice, a hand-clasp as between man and man, and Tarama was gone.

The night passed, the day, the second night. That last night Botello sat before the mouth of the cave and looked down the side of the mountain into the depths of the black, jungle, while Inez slept inside. To Botello some hint of premonition had come, and as the hours passed it grew upon him.

And when the first streak of dawn scattered the jungle blackness and Tarama had not come, he arose with a heavy sigh and turned back into the cave, but tried to smile bravely when he found Inez awake and looking up at him.

Now Botello began the playing of a game, even the hardest game of all, which is for a man to keep from the woman he loves all hint of the dread he feels.

"The good native has but been delayed," he would say often. "What is another night and a day in this spot, beloved? It means more rest for you, regular food. When once we set our faces toward the Great South Sea again we'll make better speed because of these few days of resting. Also, it may throw our enemies off the track."

He slipped down the side of the mountain and picked gorgeous blossoms for her, and found the sorts of food he knew to be harmless, and spoke in the manner of a lover until the roses were blooming in Inez's cheeks and the smiles and dimples played about her face again.

"See what the rest is doing for you, loved one," he said. "Every man in De Balboa's camp will envy me my bride."

And then the jungle darkness came again, and once more Botello sat at the door of the cave, and it seemed that the jungle darkness entered his soul. After a time he slept; but he was awake an hour before the dawn, searching the myriad night sounds of the jungle for one that would speak of the approach of a human being.

They ate a morning meal, and then Botello was forced to confess that he felt some fear.

"Death lurks in every corner of the jungle," he said softly. "Even a native cannot escape always. An ancient enemy, a hostile band, the sting of a deadly serpent—"

"You think Tarama will not return?" she asked.

"I would stake my life on Tarama's faithfulness," he replied. "If he does not return, it is because he is unable, else something of great moment is keeping him away."

"And we must remain here?"

"We must go forward at another dawning," he said. "We are not half through our journey, beloved. Yet it would have been easier had we Tarama with us."

The dawn came again, and they left the cave and descended the side of the mountain, to begin their fight against the jungle. Here was difficult work, for Botello must help his lady continually, slash vines and creepers from their path, leaving behind a trail that any man might read, but one that he found necessary.

Throughout the day they fought their way westward, and that night he made a shelter, and while Inez slept he watched.

Another dawn, and again they went forward and presently reached the bank of a turbulent stream; and here Botello decided to follow the water's edge—he would leave a trail, but he would make better speed.

And now he saw signs that told him human beings were about. He could tell it by the way the monkeys acted; and once he found the remains of a camp-fire and some discarded arrows.

He redoubled his caution now, stopping now and then for minutes at a time to listen to the sounds of the jungle. He was forced to go slower, too, for the journey was telling on Inez again.

And then, at midday, creeping around a ledge of rock, they came face to face with a native. Botello held his naked blade in his hand, for he had been cutting vines with it, and at sight of the native he stopped and thrust Inez behind him. The next instant he was smiling and holding up his left hand in the peace sign, for the native was one he had met before, a man friendly to De Balboa and his followers.

But there came no answer to the sign. Instantly the native crouched, and an arrow sped past Botello's head. He called out then, thinking the man had been taken by surprise and had not recognized him; but, to his wonder, the native fitted arrow to bow again.

Botello moved without hesitation now, for he realized that the man was hostile purposely. Again he dodged an arrow, and then he was upon the native, and his rapier darted forward and back, and at his feet twisted and twitched that which had been a man. Looking around, he saw that Inez had turned away, unable to endure the sight of violence and death, and now he went back and led her into the jungle and away from the rushing creek so that she would not have to look upon the corpse.

They did not speak of the matter as they circled through the dense undergrowth, but it gave Botello ample food for thought. He knew that he had been recognized, yet attacked for all that. And he wondered what significance there might be in the fact that the friendly Indian had turned against him.

Now he found other traces of human beings, and as the day neared an end he went deeper into the jungle until he found a place of comparative security, and there he planned a retreat for the night. They had raw food and berries, for they dared build no fire.

And this night, as the exhausted Inez slept, Botello sat beside her looking into the blackness, listening intently, feeling that there were enemies near.

To dodge a determined pursuit was enough; were the natives suddenly turned hostile, he found himself in a serious predicament, for he had been depending upon friendly Indians to help him through. Perhaps the hostility of the one he had encountered accounted for Tarama's absence, too, he thought, since all natives knew Tarama for a man who had attached himself to the Spaniards.

About the time of false dawn the brush cracked before him, and in an instant Botello was upon his feet, his rapier held ready, scarcely daring to breathe, for he knew the noise was made by a human. He saw fronds of the ground palms waving, saw a giant creeper swung aside. The undergrowth swayed toward him, and with his back against the bole of a tree Botello waited, feeling that an instant later he would be fighting for his life and that of his bride.

In the dim light he saw a ghostly shape; he heard a man's breath expelled; he heard the quick, alarmed whisper of Inez behind him, and knew she had been awakened and was alert. The brush swayed again and snapped back, striking the face of the man who approached—and then Botello's ears caught a whispered Spanish oath.

Now the blood raced madly through Botello's veins. So it was not a native, then, with whom he had to deal, but a white man—perhaps one of those pursuing him. If they were this close to his trail there seemed to be little hope left.

In that instant Botello saw a picture of himself undergoing ignoble punishment, of Inez being carried away from him forever. He gripped the hilt of his rapier and made ready, determined to fight his best while fight remained in him. Perchance this was some soldier who had strayed from his fellows, and could Botello but slay him before he gave an alarm there might be a chance of escape.

Then the other stepped into the tiny clearing and caught sight of Botello's form, and in the faint light they engaged immediately, the newcomer apparently startled to find a man here and crossing blade with him.

They fought furiously, and not a word did either speak, which mystified Botello some, for he had expected the other to call for help and bring up his comrades. He gave ground a little to gain better footing, and Inez cried out, thinking he was being outfought.

Her cry reminded him of many things, chief of which was that Inez might find herself in sorry straits were he vanquished now and his conqueror proved to be a renegade instead of honorable caballero, and he assaulted again with redoubled fury.

"Back, Inez!" he hissed at her, fearing she would approach too close in that faint light and receive a wound.

He sprang forward. And then, to his wonderment, his adversary darted to one side and lowered the point of his blade.

"Botello! You?" he screeched; and he seemed not to care if all the jungle heard. "Put up your blade, man! Would you puncture the tough hide of your best friend?"

"Ruiz! Ruiz!" Botello exclaimed in answer. "Another instant, and I would have slain you!"

"Mayhap—mayhap!" Ruiz cried. "We'll settle that matter some other time, my friend, when there are not common enemies to be fought and we need practise with the blade." And then they were in each other's arms, laughing together, and even Inez found herself caught up from the ground and given a bearlike hug by her husband's friend.

"I took you for a soldier," Ruiz explained, "and would give no cry, fearing I'd bring your companions down upon me."

"I thought the same," Botello said, laughing still. "But why should you fear his excellency's soldiers, good Rodrigo?"

"Hah! Why should I? By the saints, there is ample reason! I was not many hours behind you in quitting Antigua. His excellency deemed me too good a friend of yours to be allowed liberty. I made certain remarks, if I remember rightly, concerning his treatment of you. That gained for me a warning from his excellency's lieutenant."

"And you did not heed it, eh?"

"Si. I spoke no more treason. But there was another matter. After you escaped the hut—and that has caused some mystery in Antigua, my friend—Señor Garabito and the others returned immediately to the plaza, where pursuit was organized and certain soldiers sent forth. This fine Señor Garabito did get in my path while I was walking with swift stride. I merely hurled him aside, and the imbecile saw fit to draw blade—"

"You slew him, Rodrigo?"

"I always was tender in the heart. I but raked his ribs, scarcely starting the ruby flood. Yet he gave a cry that could have been heard half-way to Seville on a calm night, and immediately there was a certain turmoil and bellowings from his excellency—who happened to be in the plaza—to seize upon my sacred person. Wherefore, I sought the depths of the jungle."

"Hah—!"

"A moment, good Bartolmeo—give me breath! Despite my predicament, I remained in the vicinity of the plaza with eyes open and ears uncorked. Came the dawn, and with it Fray Felipe. It had been supposed the good fray had sought the depths of the jungle himself to escape the governor's wrath for having married you; yet here he was voluntarily seeking audience with his excellency—and he made talk until it was granted him.

"While yet he was in the governor's house Garabito rushed violently around organizing a second pursuit, saying he would accompany it himself, seemingly in haste to be gone after you. That is the last I saw, deeming it time to start on my own journey."

"I would have no trouble come to the good fray for having aided me," Botello said.

"Trust the fray, good Bartolmeo! He can care for himself in wilderness or palace. Forget the fray, and give thanks that I have overtaken you."

"Your arrival is excellent fortune. Tarama is gone—left us to spy out the land and did not return. And I have met a native once friendly, who drew bow against me and forced me to slay him. I was beginning to fear, my friend—for some of the natives may be hostile when they find one man and one woman alone, and the pursuit must be near, and the journey is tedious for the lady."

"Tedious!" Ruiz exclaimed. "It is a polite word you use. Say, rather, that the journey is Hades for the tender lady—as no doubt it is. But here are two of us now, my good Bartolmeo, and often have we combined blades against foes, and always with success. 'Tis a combination hard to overcome. As for the pursuit—mayhap it is far ahead of us by now. We have but to use a certain amount of caution and urge forward. And, for the love of the saints, let us be more than merry about it!"

He whispered that last sentence out of one corner of his mouth, and Botello caught its significance. Here was a diversion, a reason for allaying Inez's fears in part, and he welcomed it.

It was growing light in the jungle now, and they built a tiny fire and broiled a parrot, and though they spoke always in low tones, yet their conversation was lively and punctuated with hearty laughter.

While Inez bound fresh leaves upon her feet, Botello and Ruiz walked aside a short distance, as if to get water to carry with them, and once more Ruiz spoke in a whisper.

"I, also, met a native, good Bartolmeo, who in the past had been friendly to me. I was forced to slay him. There are evil whisperings in the jungle, my friend, that I cannot understand. We must make all haste to the Great South Sea. We face a difficult time if we have to fight off a pursuit and the natives, too. I had thought that Tarama of yours would prove loyal."

"I would have staked my life on it!" Botello replied. "I cannot think he deserted purposely. Either he has been slain, else by some other means prevented from returning to us. And I am exceedingly glad that you stand beside me now, my friend!"