Chapter XIX · The Call for Help

“QUICK!” yelled Mr. Holton to anyone who might hear. “Turn the head around or we’ll be swamped at once.”

The Indian who was steering heard and was doing his best to swerve the craft about, but he was having little luck. The terrible rapids was reluctant to yield to the puny efforts of a mere human being.

Water was now dashing into the boat, and if this were to continue there could be but one outcome—tragedy!

This time it was Bob who came to the rescue.

Pushing the Indian aside, he jumped into the seat and caught hold of the paddle, at the same time giving the rudder a swift turn about.

There was a roar and a swish, and the next moment the boat had swerved around and was facing the current head first, leaving the treacherous whirlpool far behind.

“Great work, son!” panted Mr. Holton. “You saved the day that time.”

It was now evident that the worst was over, for the current was gradually losing its terrible force. Slowly but surely they were pulling away from the perilous rapids, and if their good fortune continued, they would soon be in calm waters.

“Unless,” said Joe soberly, “we strike another whirlpool.”

But no other whirlpool barred their way, and soon they were safely riding the calm ripples farther downstream.

For the first time they were given a chance to relax. Their faces were red from exertion; their bodies were dripping with perspiration. In short, they were greatly fatigued.

“The most thrilling adventure we’ve had since we started,” remarked Bob, rubbing his forehead.

“It was a terribly narrow escape,” affirmed Professor Bigelow, not bearing to think of the tragedy that was so closely averted.

“We owe our lives to you boys,” praised Mr. Lewis. “It was your thought and action that prevented the boat from being dashed to pieces. First Joe came across with a plan that kept us from striking the rocks. Then Bob swerved the boat around out of the whirlpool. If it hadn’t been for you——”

“Forget it!” Bob dismissed the subject as best he could, and then asked his friends’ opinion of where they now were.

“Probably halfway to the junction with the mainstream,” replied Mr. Holton. “That rapids carried us along at a terrific speed.”

His opinion proved correct, for they reached the Tapauá early the next morning and turned the boats to retrace the distance covered the day before.

“Might as well consider that much time wasted,” said Joe. “For about a day the journey will be a repetition of what it was two days ago.”

They did not mind the delay, however. That is, all but Professor Bigelow, who was anxious to find the strange tribe that Otari had spoken about. Every mile that went behind them lagged, to him, till it seemed that he was almost in a nightmare. Even after they had made up for the lost time and were paddling several score miles farther upstream, he was irritated. It was clearly evident that his impatient scientific enthusiasm was getting the better of him.

As they traveled on, his anxiety increased rather than lessened, for they were getting nearer the region occupied by the savages.

“The old boy’s so excited he can hardly wait,” smiled Joe, aside to his chum.

“He’s anxious to test his wits against the cannibals,” returned Bob. “Wants to stay for dinner, maybe.”

They camped that night on a wide sand bank, at the base of a rocky knoll. After the evening meal, they sat in a group about the firelight, chatting merrily, despite the fact that they were near, or perhaps in, the cannibal country.

They turned in early, and the night passed without incident.

“Well,” smiled Mr. Holton the next morning as he went about preparing breakfast, “nothing happened to disturb our deep slumber.”

“Perhaps we are not quite near enough the dangerous territory,” replied Professor Bigelow. “But according to Otari, we shouldn’t have to travel much farther.”

That morning, for the first time, two of the crew began to show signs of uneasiness. It was Bob who first noticed them talking in muffled tones, and upon listening, he found that they did not like the idea of going into this unknown country that was the abode of wild savages. But as they appeared to come to no conclusion, Bob turned to help prepare the meal.

After breakfast they paddled on upstream in search of a suitable hunting area, for the naturalists wished to go ashore and add to their collection.

At every point of the compass the scenery was beautiful beyond description. There were steep, jagged cliffs, densely overgrown with the brilliant green of tropical vegetation; tall forest giants, towering a hundred feet into the sky; gorgeously colored flowers that sent their sweet fragrance far afield.

Mr. Holton broke the enchanted silence. “Here we are,” he said, singling out a stopping place.

The boats were turned into a little cove, behind which was a stretch of smooth country.

The naturalists and their sons picked out guns and prepared to leave on a hunting trip, but Professor Bigelow announced that he would remain at the boats to read.

“Don’t see how he can read on a morning like this,” murmured Joe. “This cool air gets under my skin and cries ‘action, action!’”

They decided to take all but two of the crew with them to help carry in specimens, and strangely enough the two Indians who remained behind were the ones Bob had heard talking about not liking the prospect of penetrating into this unknown country.

Bob wondered if it would be safe to leave things as they were. For a moment he thought of appealing to the others to change the situation, but thought better of it and followed on into the forest. After all, nothing would probably come of the happening.

“We want to get a jaguar today if it’s at all possible,” said Mr. Lewis, his keen eyes scanning the surrounding trees, as if he expected to find one of the big cats lurking there.

“A jaguar!” repeated Joe. “Fine. We’ll get one if there’s any around.”

They tramped on for about five minutes before seeing any game but monkeys and bright-colored birds. Then Mr. Lewis caught sight of a long, lithe body gliding over the tangled underbrush.

The others saw, too, and they raised their rifles and fired.

The snake was immediately made into pulp, and the hunters ran up to examine it.

“Coral snake,” said Mr. Holton, recognizing the striped body. “Whether it’s poisonous I don’t know. Here is one reptile that cannot easily be distinguished as to whether it is of the harmless or poisonous variety.”

The reptile was no good as a specimen, and they passed it by.

Suddenly Mr. Holton stopped still in his tracks and pointed to a low tree bough not far away. The others looked and then shrank back in awe.

There, resting peacefully in the shaded depths of a limb, was a huge, powerful jaguar, its spotted coat showing in strange contrast to the surrounding jungle.

“Back,” whispered Mr. Holton, slowly raising his rifle.

Carefully the naturalist took aim, while the others stood by with ready rifles.

Bang! The bullet sped true.

There was a terrific pawing and clutching at the bough, but to no avail. A second later the great cat fell to the ground, moved convulsively for a moment, and then lay still.

“Hurrah!” cried Bob. “Our first jaguar.”

“The biggest and most dangerous animal of South America,” chimed in Mr. Lewis.

At once the skin was ripped off and then placed in a bag carried by the crew.

A little later Bob was several score feet behind the others, examining a peculiar plant that had small blue flowers. As he started to pluck one he suddenly heard a faint cry that seemed to come from the direction of the river.

At first he thought it was some strange bird, but when he heard it again he was immediately on the alert. That a bird? Absurd. But what could it be?

Then a thought struck him, and he almost turned pale. It was Professor Bigelow!

He called to the others to follow and then turned and ran with all speed to the boats.