Read 01 Amazon Adventure Online
Authors: Willard Price
You could tell, roughly, how near the animal was by the grunts at the end of its roar.
‘If you cannot hear those grunts, he is far away,’ Aqua said. ‘If you can hear them, watch out — he is close!’
The roar, with its rise and fall, had the eerie effect of a -siren. It was hard to sleep through it. Travelling was now done mostly by day and hammocks were slung on shore at night. A camp fire was kept burning all night. Hal was never quite sure of this fire — did it keep animals off, or attract them? Perhaps it frightened the more timid ones. But one night he looked from his hammock to see a great yellow-and-black head not twenty feet from him. The tiger did not see him but was gazing with
evident curiosity at the fire, its big yellow eyes gleaming in the light. Presently the animal lay down full length, for all the world like a cat by the hearth. Its enormous jaws opened in a gigantic cat yawn.
Hal was quite unprepared for this visit. He had no cage ready, no net, and his men were asleep, some on shore and some on the montaria. Those who did not mind having baby boas crawling over them were on the boat.
If he called to the men, the animal would be alarmed. His gun lay beside him but he could not bring himself to use it. He did not want to kill the superb beast. On the other hand, he did not care to go to sleep within twenty feet of a tiger — and the tiger seemed to have no notion of leaving.
One of the Indians rose to put more wood on the fire. The tiger sat up on its haunches and watched the proceedings with interest. Hal hardly dared breathe. Softly he took up his Savage and aimed, but did not fire. One bullet would only change a placid cat into a raging devil.
At least he hoped the cat was placid. He told himself that animals, even the most savage ones, rarely attack man unless they were cornered or wounded. But he knew that this did not quite hold true of the jaguar. There were too many cases of man-eating on record. Lumberjacks and rubber gatherers were frequently killed by tigers. A sailor escaped but left an arm behind him. Three padres were caught in a church; two were killed and the other got away. In the Buenos Aires zoo was a tiger that had taken three lives. Then there was the Argentine scientist whose camp was visited every night by a tiger that had taken a fancy to the dried beef; when it was hung out of reach the disappointed tiger attacked the man himself, smashing his skull with one crunch of his jaw.
There were dozens of other cases, Hal had read of, but he could not remember them now. He did recall only too clearly one reported by the naturalist Azara: six men went to sleep around a camp fire; in the morning four of them awoke and found the bodies of the other two that had been dragged some distance into the jungle and half devoured.
The Indian came around between the fire and the tiger. Hal’s finger fondled the trigger. He could feel the cold sweat on his forehead. The tiger stretched out its nose, as if sniffing. Would this brown, two-legged creature make a good meal or not? But it did not move.
Suddenly, back in the brush, there came the high whinny of a tapir. Instantly the tiger’s great head swung around in that direction. It rose and padded off without a sound.
Presently out of the jungle came a terrific noise — the shrill screeching of the tapir and the thundering roar of the forest king.
Everyone in camp woke up with a start.
Roger said with an unsteady voice, ‘Gee, I’m glad we have a fire. That really does keep them off.’
Hal did not choose to worry his brother by telling him what he had seen. In five minutes Roger was asleep again. But Hal kept watch the rest of the night.
In the morning he found the tracks. Each footprint was as big as a soup plate. It was almost perfectly round. The spaces between the toes were even and there was no sign of claws— the jaguar keeps them drawn well back as he walks.
There was nothing about the print to suggest that it had been made by a savage beast. It was as soft and smooth as if someone had pressed a velvet pad into the dirt. Hal remarked about this to Aqua.
The tigre’s paw is soft,’ Aqua said, ‘but strong!
Just one blow from it will kill an ox.’
With Aqua’s help, Hal and Roger followed the trail back into the jungle. They came at last to the spot where the struggle between the tapir and tiger had evidently taken place. The grass was trampled, earth torn up, and underbrush broken. But there was no carcass of a dead tapir.
Hal was disappointed. He had hoped to capture the tiger here. When the big cat kills a large animal it usually eats what it can, leaves the carcass for some hours, and returns to eat again. The wily hunter will be there with his gun or his cage at the time of the second visit.
But this time the tiger had been more wily than the hunter.
‘Look at the path,’ cried Roger. ‘There must be Indians.’
‘No Indians,’ said Aqua. The tiger made this path.’
‘But it’s as wide as three-tigers.’ ‘He was dragging the tapir.’ Hal stared. It was hard to believe. Out of the trampled arena led what was almost a road, three or four feet wide, with every bit of underbrush flattened as if a steam roller had passed over it.
‘How could a jaguar drag a tapir?’ he marvelled. ‘It’s as heavy as a cow.’
There was no doubt about it. The largest of South American wild animals had been dragged through virgin forest that even a man with a machete and no burden would have had trouble in penetrating.
They followed the trail. In some places it was more of a tunnel than a path since the tiger did not stand more than three feet high. They stooped and scrambled through.
At any moment they expected to come upon the carcass, and perhaps the tiger. But the trail went on for more than a mile. Then it came out on the bank of the Amazon. It continued to the water’s edge. And that was all.
Hal looked across the river. It was several miles wide. His respect for the jaguar grew.
‘I didn’t know it could swim,’ said Roger.
‘Better than you can. The jaguar loves the water. Perhaps his wife and kids live on the other side and he wanted them to share his meal. But think of swimming all that distance pulling something twice as heavy as himself!’ But Hal remembered the account in one of his manuals of a jaguar that killed a horse and swam with it across the river; and the report by the famous Brazilian, General Rondon, of a horse that was dragged a mile through heavy brush to a water hole where the jaguar might enjoy drinks with his meal.
The cleverness of the animal was almost equal to its strength. It could have gone straight to the river past the camp — but it took a roundabout route to avoid any risk of losing its prize.
On the way back to camp, Aqua showed the boys a strange sight — a tigers’ manicure parlour. It was a large tree. At a height of about six or seven feet above the ground were deep scars and scratches made by the claws of jaguars.
This was the way, Aqua explained, that they sharpened their claws. They behaved just like house cats. Standing on their hind feet up against the tree, they dragged their claws repeatedly through the bark. Where their breasts rubbed the tree, it was worn smooth.
Tiger country it was. That became clear during the day’s voyage.
Roger was up ahead in the skiff. Suddenly he signalled his two men to stop rowing. He pointed to a cove. Hal stopped his oarsmen and the Ark drifted up alongside the skiff.
On the log projecting out over the cove was a large jaguar. Its great head was turned the other way and it did not see the silent boats. It was busy fishing.
It was using its tail as bait — or, rather, as a lure. It would tap the surface of the water lightly with its tail. Insects or fruit dropping on the surface would make a similar sound. The fish would come up to investigate.
Suddenly the tiger made a quick thrust into the water with his paw and came up with a fish in his claws. He popped it into his mouth and ate it with relish. He looked lazily about and saw the boats. He got up slowly, too dignified to run, and walked solemnly into the forest.
Aqua was grinning. ‘Very smart tiger,’ he said proudly, as if he owned it.
Roger was not willing to believe what he had seen. ‘Do you think he was really using his tail to attract the fish? What does your book say, professor?’
Hal was, as usual, deep in a manual. ‘Well, here’s something pretty wonderful. And it’s by a naturalist you can trust — Wallace. Listen to this: ‘The jaguar, say the Indians, is the most cunning animal in the forest: he can imitate the voice of almost every bird and animal so exactly as to draw them towards him: he fishes in the rivers, lashing the water with his tail to imitate falling fruit, and, when the fish approach, hooks them up with his claws. He catches and eats turtles, and I have myself found the unbroken shells which he has completely cleaned out with his paws: he even attacks the cowfish in its own element, and an eyewitness assured me that he had watched one dragging out of the water this bulky animal, weighing as much as a large ox.”
Wow!’ commented Roger. ‘And you think you’re going to catch anything as strong and as smart as that! You’re crazy.’
Banco became interested. ‘Does the senhor wish to catch a tigre?’
That’s what I’m aiming to do,’ said Hal. He hoped that Banco, who had been a pretty sour customer during the trip so far, was now going to offer to help him. It was a vain hope.
‘You cannot capture a tigre,’ said Banco.
Why not?’
‘It needs twenty or thirty men. We are only seven men, and a boy.’
‘But the ‘tiger man’ kills a tiger singlehanded.’
‘He kills it. He doesn’t take it alive. That’s different.’
Hal had to admit the truth of this. But he was all the more determined to take home a tiger.
He cut short the day’s journey at noon and ordered a landing. After eating, the men were set at work, building a cage. When Banco objected, Hal said, ‘Banco, we’re going to stay right here until we get a tiger — no matter if it takes a month.’
To make the cage not only strong but light, stout bamboos were lashed together with green, wiry lianas. A door was built at one end. The cage was kept small enough so that the animal could not get leverage to break it. It was about four feet wide, four feet deep, and ten feet long.
Nearby Hal found a trail to the shore where animals were accustomed to come down to drink. He looked eagerly for tiger tracks, but had to call Aqua. The Indian found them, and they were big enough to satisfy the most ambitious collector.
Hal and his men began to dig a pit. The Indians were willing to work, but Banco sat on the sidelines muttering to himself. The pit was made six feet deep and about as wide. It was squarely in the middle of the trail.
Then the men, under Hal’s direction, cut some poles and laid them across the hole. Hal laid the heavy loop of a lasso on the poles. Then he climbed the great fig tree that overhung the pit and tied the other end of the lasso to a branch, making the rope between the branch and the loop fairly taut.
Then the poles and the loop were covered with leaves and dirt so that the pit was no longer visible.
The cage was brought up and placed nearby, but out of sight among the bushes.
The idea was that the tiger should fall through the loop which would tighten around him as he dropped into the pit. Then he would be drawn out and dragged into the cage. Banco snorted sarcastically.
This you cannot do,’ he said.
They retired to camp and waited. It was just getting dark when Hal heard a commotion in the direction of the trail. He stole through the woods to the pit.
But he was due for disappointment. The pit was occupied, but not by a tiger. The great blunderbuss of the woods, the tapir, had fallen into it. Hal already had a tapir and did not want to take on another. Space in the boats was too precious.
It was a two-hour job to haul out the heavy beast, cut it free, repair the pit, cover it, and reset the lasso.
Then back to camp for another wait. But Hal was less hopeful than before.
‘Aqua,’ he said, ‘we don’t want all the animals in the jungle falling into that pit. We want a tiger.’
Then let us call one,’ said Aqua.
He went to his pack of belongings and brought out a steer horn. Hal followed him to the trail at the point where it came out on the riverbank.
Aqua put his lips to the horn and a sound that
certainly did not sound like Aqua’s voice came from it. It was exactly the voice of a tiger, beginning with a few deep coughs, rising to a fiendish roar, and dying down to low, slow grunts. It was so that moose were called in the north woods — but how different the call!
They listened. The small animals of the forest had been paralysed into silence by the roar. But there was no answering tiger call.
‘Guess we’re in for a night of it,’ Hal said.
All night, at intervals, Aqua made his call. It was not until just before dawn that there was a distant coughing answer. A faint grey was lightening the black river, but the darkness inside the jungle was still complete.
Aqua called again. Again the answer. Each time it was closer. Now they could hear the low grunts at the end of the call. That meant that the animal was not more than a mile away.
Closer and closer it came until it seemed that the beast must be just beside them in the bushes. Then a roar was cut off in the middle — and when it came again it had a new note. It was not the voice of one coming to meet a friend, but of one who had been tricked and trapped by an enemy. There was so much savage rage in it that the icicles prickled up and down Hal’s back.
‘He’s in the pit!’ he said.
They ran to the pit where they were joined by the others from the camp. The pit was like a huge pot furiously boiling with something that showed yellow and black in the dawn. Everyone shouted with joy except Banco, and even he seemed sourly impressed.
The rope hung straight and taut from the tree, and the branch to which it was fastened was shaking violently. Evidently the tiger was well caught in the noose.
Now the little matter of getting him into the cage! Hal looked at the wildly churning mass of muscle with dismay and the earsplitting roars of the beast unsteadied his nerves. This whirling demon was certainly in no mood to walk into a cage.