The Jungle Trail/Chapter 8

HAT day there were no encounters, nor did they catch sight of human being, and the night they passed in safety, one of the men always on watch. And when the dawn came again they started on through the jungle, only now they were high in the hills and starting down the long slope that ended on the shore of the Great South Sea.

Again they saw trails made by natives, and crept through the dense undergrowth as noiselessly as they could, stopping frequently to listen for minutes at a time. And so they reached the crest of a hill and looked down upon a tiny green valley, through which wound a wide trail like some great serpent.

To their ears now came the sounds of shouting from natives' throats. Hiding in the undergrowth, they watched, scarcely daring to breathe or to think what the sounds might portend. And then they saw.

Around a bend in the valley came a group of natives, some half a hundred, and in their midst strode Señor Pasqual Garabito. His arms were not bound behind him, the natives did not crowd close to his side, there was no indication that he was being held captive. It looked, rather, that he was being conducted in all honor to a native camp.

A gasp from Inez caused them to glance at the bend again, and then, despite the danger in it, both Botello and Ruiz cried out exclamations that might have been heard at least fifty yards away.

Conducted as had been Garabito, with every evidence of honor, came Señor Bonilla and his fair daughter, Carlotta.

"By the saints!" Ruiz exclaimed. "What have we here? Garabito's presence needs no explanation, but why do Señor Bonilla and the haughty Carlotta endure the perils of the jungle trail? And why are they not attacked? A single native attacks a white man and a woman, yet two score of them fear to handle one woman and two men?"

"Perhaps it is discretion on the part of the natives, my good friend," Botello replied. "No doubt his excellency's soldiers are in the immediate neighborhood. It would be native wile to greet these with acclaim and slay them later as they slept."

"This thing needs some investigation," Ruiz said. Do you remain here in hiding and protect the señora while I go forward and use my eyes."

He slipped away before Botello could reply, and for some time the latter and his bride watched the valley below. The two men, the woman, and the native escort passed from view around another bend, the cries of the Indians died away in the distance—and Ruiz returned.

"It is as you said," he announced. "His excellency's soldiers are in the neighborhood."

"Then we risk capture?"

"Not so, my friend. Those of his excellency's soldiers I set eyes upon will capture nothing in this world. They are dead."

"Dead?" Botello and Inez cried in a breath.

"Five of them—I know the fellows and recognized them as having been in the first squad sent in pursuit of you. They are scarce a quarter of a mile away, beside a well-marked trail. From the back of each sticks an arrow. They have been dead at least two days."

"Natives slay white men in force?" Botello asked, scarcely giving the news credit. "What is the meaning of that, good Ruiz?"

"The meaning is a mystery, I take it," Ruiz replied, conveying to Botello in a glance the fact that he did not wish to speak fully in the presence of Inez.

"And Garabito—Bonilla?"

Ruiz shrugged his shoulders, indicating that he possessed no knowledge regarding what was to become of them, and cared little.

"But the señorita?" Inez asked in a low tone.

"Hah! There is your mystery!" Ruiz said. "Why does the dainty Señorita Carlotta endure the perils and hardships of the jungle trail? She has no love for a new-gotten husband to urge her on, no escape from his excellency's wrath to make. It must be a dire extremity to bring her here."

"Yet we cannot stand idly by and see them slain," Botello said, almost in a whisper. "Must we face danger at this juncture in an attempt to rescue those who have been our enemies?"

"What would you do?" Ruiz asked.

"Were we alone, good Rodrigo. I'd suggest we slip upon the encampment and ascertain the truth of things. Mayhap a rescue in the dead of night—did they survive that long—"

Ruiz shook his head and glanced toward Inez. But he did not take into consideration some of the excellent qualities that Botello's bride possessed.

"Am I to allow my presence in your company to send three persons to death?" she demanded. "Señor Garabito is not a proper man, yet he is of white blood. And Señor Bonilla is old."

"And the señorita, though in her character are empty places that should be filled, is, after all, a señorita and entitled to escape these savages," Botello put in.

"Then we attempt a rescue?" Ruiz asked.

"Perchance a rescue is not needed. Those natives appeared overfriendly to the three," Botello answered. "But we must make sure. At least we can approach the native encampment and investigate. By using all the caution we possess, we may get close enough to seek solutions of those things which now mystify us."

Yet they made slow progress when once they had started, for it was necessary to make a detour and so evade the trails that led to the native village. They kept as near the crest of the hill as possible, and after a time reached a point directly above the encampment.

Botello knew that village. It was permanent, yet small; and now there were thrice the usual number of natives about it, and new huts had been erected. There seemed a scarcity of women and children, but warriors strutted across the open spaces, or engaged in feats of strength, or howled to one another from the fringe of the jungle.

"This looks like trouble," Ruiz observed; and even as he spoke trouble descended upon them.

There came a shout from their rear, a chorus of shrieks, the rushing of half a score of arrows over their heads. Botello and Ruiz whirled to find twenty warriors bearing down upon them through the undergrowth, and to either side were more, and in front was only the precipice where a man could not descend.

It was a time for action rather than words. With one arm Botello swept his bride to one side and down between two huge boulders, where the arrows could not strike her. Then he and Ruiz stood side by side before her, their backs to the rocks, and prepared to withstand the assault.

No more arrows flew; a chieftain shouted orders they could not understand, and the warriors, dropping their weapons, rushed in.

"They mean to take us alive," Ruiz gasped. "Here is another mystery, my friend."

And then he ceased his talk for a time and swept his rapier before him, even as Botello was doing, and drew it back red to send it forward again. Like the tongues of snakes the two blades darted here and there, always thrusting home. Shrieks of pain and fear came from savage throats, and again the chieftain bellowed his orders, and again his men rushed.

There was no way to approach save from the front, and no way of doing that except by running risk of getting a blade between ribs. Some of them fenced with spears, trying to ward off the rapiers, but making no attempt to thrust.

"Hah!" Ruiz shrieked. "Attack human beings, will you, dogs? Hah! By the saints, I perspire—it is hot work! Have you lost count, my friend? I have, by the saints! Where did all these curs grow to maturity? Is the New World so large? Hah!"

"’Ware the left!" Botello shrieked.

"Thanks for your caution, good friend—I have run the scoundrel through. By his decorations, he is a big man of his tribe! Hah—infidel dogs!"

They retreated; again they rushed. Now Botello and Ruiz found their foes pouring in upon them so fast that rapiers could not be withdrawn from bodies in time to meet the next comers. In a smother of naked natives they went down, their blades hurled aside, their poniards biting deep into flesh and bone. On the ground they struggled, voiceless now, stabbing and slashing, trying to prevent the natives binding them.

But such a state of affairs could not endure for long. Against the side of Botello's head a club crashed, and the darkness came to him just as he heard Ruiz give a choking gasp and Inez cry out in despair.

He regained consciousness to find that his arms had been bound behind him with tough vines and strips of skin. Half a score of paces away, Ruiz was sitting on the ground, also bound. Inez was standing between them, her hands fastened before her, and the natives were seemingly giving her scant attention.

"We live, good friend," Ruiz called. "Had you not put up such a tough combat, you'd have escaped that knock on the side of your skull. This is indeed a mysterious happening, when natives get white men down and fail to run them through. We must have been saved for some greater honor."

Botello read the meaning between his friend's words, and his face blanched. He remembered how the savages had tortured certain of De Balboa's followers who had been caught in the jungle alone. Tarama had explained to him that the natives had a wholesome fear of the Spaniards, yet took vengeance when they found one or two who could be overcome. And now did Botello determine to slay his bride with his own hands, if given the opportunity, before he would allow her to be prisoner of these savages, held for torture or to grace some cacique's hut.

There was scant time now for thinking of these things, for he felt himself lifted bodily and placed upon his feet, and saw that Ruiz was being treated in similar fashion. Tall natives grasped their arms and urged them forward, Inez between them. They did not touch her as long as she went where they directed, and even allowed her to walk close by Botello's side.

"This may be the end, beloved," he whispered. "It were cruel to lead you from Antigua to the jungle to meet a tragic fate."

"The end of hope is not yet," she said.

"You do not understand—"

"I know all you would say, my Bartolmeo. If it proves necessary, Inez, your wife, will know what to do, and will not be afraid."

They were descending the side of the hill now, a difficult task with hands tied, and the warriors assisted all three.

"Such solicitude overwhelms me," Ruiz said. "They are passing kind."

He lurched against one of the natives and sent him spinning down the slope, but there came no reprisal. A half-wit could have told that these savages were acting under orders not to slay.

Then they reached a broad trail that wound down the valley, and now faster time could be made. Soon they were within sight of the encampment, and a runner went ahead to give notice of their coming. From the distance came shouts and shrieks as he delivered his message. What women and children remained in the village crowded forward to leer at these white captives, and especially at the white woman. This was a day of wonders for them—two white women had they seen, and never before had they set eyes upon one.

In the center of the village was the big hut of the cacique, a building of vines and mud and logs more than fifty feet square. Their captors stopped them before the door, and one went inside. Presently he returned, and indicated that the prisoners were to be taken within.

Ruiz went first, and then Inez, and Botello was last, two giantlike warriors gripping him by the arms. The interior was stifling with smoke and dust; and, coming from the bright sunshine, a man scarcely could see. Botello blinked his eyes rapidly to accustom them to the dim light. He heard Ruiz give an exclamation, and looked up, over Inez's shoulder.

On a raised dais sat the cacique frowning down upon the prisoners. Beside him sat Pasqual Garabito, an honored guest. On the other side was Señor Bonilla, and behind him his daughter. And these were the three Botello and Ruiz had feared they would have to rescue.

"This is the woman?" the cacique was asking.

"Si," Garabito responded.

"But there are two men, señor. Which is your enemy?"

The taller," Garabito replied. "Say, rather, that he is your enemy, noble one. 'Tis as I said—if he escapes all plans fail. Already he has done much to oppose us. The other man is his close companion, and it would serve your purpose best to slay both of them at once."

Inez gave a little cry at that, and Botello took a step nearer her, and the frowning cacique looked down at her terrified face.

"And the woman?" the cacique asked.

"I shall deal with the woman," Garabito said meaningly.

Now Botello and Ruiz both snarled their rage, and Inez recoiled a little, so that the native guards stepped closer to prevent any attempt at violence.

"What is the meaning of this, Señor Garabito?" Botello demanded. "You league yourself with natives, eh? To gain your ends you seek aid from any and all, instead of fighting your own battles as a man should? You consort with savages and make war on women—"

"Silence him!" Garabito cried, and the warriors moved closer. "As for you, Señor Botello," he went on, "here ends your opposition to me. I am master here."

"You? Master here?" Ruiz cried.

"I have said it, señor."

The native maid you wronged must have been the daughter of a cacique. Have you wedded her and been adopted into a tribe?"

"Silence!" Garabito snarled. "That remark will gain a minute more of torture for you, señor. I know how to attend to my enemies. I have said I am master here. Señor Botello's quarrel with me, and his subsequent flight, precipitated matters some. Had it not been for that and the meddling of that fool of an old fray, Felipe, you'd not have died for half a moon yet—and then you'd have gone to the world beyond together with all other whites in Darien, save for Señor Bonilla, his daughter, and myself. You have disrupted my plans somewhat, but you die the sooner because of it."

"Is this treason?" Ruiz thundered.

"Hah!" Garabito laughed. "No conspiracy is called treason unless it fails, señor, and this will not fail."

"You—his excellency's friend—"

"Friend? Only to serve my own purposes, señor. Think you for any other reason I'd be friend to such an ignorant toad? His excellency and his followers soon will pay the price for misrule. 'Tis a pretty scheme, wherein those who have oppressed the natives die, both in Antigua and in De Balboa's camp. We save a few sailors who are in league with us. We get a cargo of gold and precious stones for delivering these good natives from the yoke of the Spaniards; we take the one ship now in the harbor at Antigua and sail away—"

"Hah! And when you get to Seville?"

"Merely a little tale of a native uprising, and we were the only ones to escape. Such a tale as will make us heroes—you perceive, señor? Is it not a pretty plot?"

"Such a one as I'd expect from you!" cried Botello. "And you—cacique! Are you an imbecile that you let this man fool you so? You have met the Spaniards before, eh? Think you that you can win? Can you not see that this man uses you to further his own designs? Hah! I marvel at your stupidity."

"The señor fails to understand," replied the cacique slowly, for he was not quick with the white man's speech. "This plan is so broad it cannot fail. We no longer fear De Balboa on the one side, or the governor on the other. Our good friend, the señor here, has shown us how to accomplish our ends."

"And your good friend, the señor there, never has been into the jungle before, as I happen to know."

"He has dealt with us through natives that could be trusted."

"And does the Head Cacique of the Great Wilderness approve of your plans?" Botello demanded. "He is a friend of the intrepid De Balboa. Dare you make attack on the Spaniards without the Great Cacique's sanction? Will he not punish you and your tribesmen with death?"

The cacique showed some nervousness at that, and Garabito opened mouth to reply, but the native chieftain got out his words first.

"Our friend, the señor here, has obtained the sanction of the Great Cacique," he said.

"He brought you a token, I suppose? The Great Cacique comes with his men to aid you?" Botello persisted.

"The token even now is on its way by a trusted messenger, the señor informs me. We do not need the aid of the Great Cacique's men in this undertaking. If we have need of more warriors, then he will furnish them." "You are taking this Señor Garabito on faith, cacique. Mayhap he has made fools of your messengers and but leads you into a trap."

"Let this nonsense end!" Garabito thundered. "Cacique, have these two men slain and the woman taken to my hut. Señor Botello, it is fitting you die a lingering death for the troubles you have caused us. Your determination to claim a lady as bride aroused Fray Felipe, who knew some things of this conspiracy. Straightway toward his excellency hurried the fray, wherefore I was forced to hasten into the jungle with Señor Bonilla and his daughter, else even now the three of us would be hanging by our necks. You should pay for our discomforts."

"I warn you, cacique!" Botello cried, ignoring Garabito. "Harm us not until you are certain of the truth. If you displease the Great Cacique—"

The chieftain bellowed an order, and the big and dirty hand of a warrior stifled Botello's words in his throat. Another order, and Botello and Ruiz were forcibly conducted into the open air, Inez being led after them. Just outside the door they were halted, and out of the hut streamed the natives, the cacique walking between Garabito and Bonilla, and the Señorita Carlotta keeping a little in the background as one who dreads what is to come.

Now the cacique looked at his prisoners again, and Garabito stepped close and whispered in his ear.

"Let it be as the señor wishes," the cacique said then. "The two men shall be sent to the stake, and the woman forced to watch. After that, take the woman to the hut of the Señor Garabito."

The warriors who grasped Botello and Ruiz by their arms now forced them backward and started to lead them away. But Inez broke from those who held her, and went down on her knees to the cacique, holding up her hands in supplication, beside herself with fear for her husband and dread of her own future.

"Cacique! Cacique!" she cried. "Beware what you do! Beware how you obey the orders of the man who stands beside you!" The cacique looked down at her—at her tear-stained face, her extended arms. Something on one of those thorn-scratched arms caught and reflected the light of the sun. The cacique took a quick step forward and looked closer, and grasped her by a wrist. Botello snarled as the savage touched his bride, and tried to get forward, but his captors held him back. Yet there was no need for his alarm.

"Look—look!" the cacique was crying to a lesser chieftain who stood behind him.

He held Inez's arm in a viselike grip; the fingers of his other hand grasped at the bracelet Botello had given her before their marriage, the love token Inez had used in her rebuke of Carlotta Bonilla that day in the plaza at Antigua.

"Look!" he cried again. "It is a token—it is the symbol of the Great Cacique!"

And, in that instant, Botello remembered that indeed it was, and had been given him on a day a year or more before by the Great Cacique himself as a mark of favor. He had not thought at the time that there was special significance in the gift, nor was he sure of it now, yet his heart sang because the cacique believed it to be so.

"I warned you, cacique!" he cried now; and he stood straight and looked the chieftain in the eyes. "Lead us on to death, if you think it well—your own punishment will be the greater!"

The bewildered cacique looked at the bracelet again, the bauble of gold that bore in scratchings a mystic symbol. He lifted Inez to her feet, and with his own hands removed her bonds. He cried an order, and women came running, and were told to get fresh clothing for the señora, and food—anything she desired.

"What do you?" Garabito thundered.

"As to the men, I am not sure," the cacique replied. "But, as to this woman, she bears the symbol of the Great Cacique, and hence must be under his protection. In this village she receives naught but respect and honor. You have no word to say now regarding her, señor; she has been treated too cruelly already."

"It is a trick!" Garabito stormed.

"I am not sure," the cacique replied. "At least we honor her until we have word from the Great Cacique that it is a trick. I am not mistrusting you, Señor Garabito, and neither am I allowing a woman who wears the Great Cacique's sign to be molested, or slaying men who may possess his friendship."

"You would release these Spaniards?" Garabito cried.

"No; nor slay them now, señor. We shall hold them as prisoners until we are certain of all things."

Now hope was born anew in Botello's heart, and in the hearts of Ruiz and Inez. For dead men are but dead men—but prisoners always have the chance of escape.