Lost in the Forest by Robert Michael Ballantyne (digital e reader .txt) 📕

to welcome ye to ould Ireland if iver ye come that way."

"Ask him, Bunco," said Will Osten, "where we are, how far we are from the coast, and what is the name and distance of the nearest town."

To these questions the Spaniard replied that they were in the northern part of the Republic of Ecuador, and not, as they had supposed, in Peru, which lay some hundreds of miles to the southward; that a couple of days' walking would bring them to the coast, and that in two days more they could reach the town of Tacames. This, being one of the few ports on the western coast of South America where vessels touched, was a place from which they might probably be able to make their way to California. He added that there was a rumour of gold having been discovered of late in that region, but, for his part, he didn't believe it, for he had heard the same rumour several times before, and nothing had ever come of it, at least as far as he knew.

"Ye're wrong there, intirely, mister what's-yer-name," said Larry O'Hale, pausing for a moment in the midst of his devotion to the good things spread before him. "Sure it's my own brother Ted as wos out there a year gone by, an' he swore he picked up goold like stones an' putt them in his pocket, but the capting o' the ship he sailed in towld him it wos brass, an' his mates laughed at him to that extint that he flung it all overboord in a passion. Faix, I've made up my mind that there _is_ goold in Callyforny and that wan Larry O'Hale is distined for to make his fortin' there--so I'll throuble ye for another hunk o' that pottimus, or wotiver ye call it. Prime prog it is, anyhow."

An earnest discussion here followed as to the probability of gold having been found in California, and whether it was worth their while to try their fortune in that direction. During the course of the meal, the Spaniard incidentally mentioned that on the previous night a tiger had broken into his enclosure, and injured a bullock so badly that he had been obliged to kill it, and he had little doubt the same beast would pay him another visit that night.

This was good news to the travellers, all of whom were keen--though not all expert--sportsmen.

As evening had already set in, they begged to be allowed to rest for a little so as to be ready for the tiger when he came. Their host at once conducted them into a small room, where several hammocks were suspended from the walls. Into these they quickly jumped, and, in a few minutes, the concert played by their noses told a tale of sweet repose after a day of unusual toil.

For several hours they slept, and then the Spaniard awoke them with the information that the tiger was coming! Up they sprang, as a matter of course, and with considerable noise too, but Bunco soon impressed them with the necessity of being quiet. The Spaniard had only two guns, one of which he handed to Will Osten. The seamen were of necessity left to be spectators.

It is necessary here to describe the Spaniard's hut, which was peculiar as to its architecture. It was a mere shed made of bamboo canes closely placed together, and roofed with large cocoa and other leaves. The floor was of rough boards covered with matting. The whole structure stood on the top of a number of strong posts about twelve or fourteen feet from the ground, and the entrance was gained by a ladder which could be drawn up at night. The object of this great elevation and the ladder, was protection from the nocturnal visit of wild beasts such as tigers or jaguars, as well as monkeys of a large size. In the door of this hut there was a hole of about two feet square, at which the host stationed himself with the muzzle of his gun thrust through it. Two smaller holes in the walls, which served for windows, were used on the present occasion as loopholes by Will Osten and Bunco.

Perfect silence was maintained for about half an hour. The sky was cloudless and the moon full. Not a breath of wind stirred a leaf of the forest that encircled the small clearing. The buzz of mosquitoes, or the flapping about of a huge bat alone disturbed the silence of the night, and the watchers were beginning to fear it would turn out to be a false alarm, when the cattle in the yard began to low in a quick yet mournful tone. They knew full well that their enemy was at hand! A few minutes, that appeared an age, of anxiety followed. Then some bullocks that had been purposely fastened near the hut began to bellow furiously. Another instant, and the tiger cleared the fence with a magnificent bound, alighted in the yard, and crouched for a spring. The moon shone full in his glaring eyeballs, making his head a splendid target. Three shots crashed out in one report, and with a roar that would have done credit to the monarch of the African wilderness, this king of the western forest fell down and died.

He was a full-grown tiger with a beautifully marked skin, which Bunco was not long in stripping from the carcass, while the Spaniard, who was highly delighted by this success, set about preparing breakfast. They were all too much excited to think of going to bed again; and, besides, it was within an hour of daybreak.

During the morning Will Osten persuaded his host to give him one of his old guns in exchange for a beautiful silver-mounted hunting knife, which was the only article of value that he happened to possess. With this useful addition to their arms, the travellers resumed their journey shortly after dawn, being convoyed several miles on their way by their amiable host. They parted from him, finally, with much regret and many professions of gratitude and esteem, especially from Larry, who, in the fulness of his impulsive nature, reiterated his pressing invitation to pay him a visit in his "swait little cabin in the bog of Clonave, County Westmeath, ould Ireland!"

We will not drag the reader through every step of the rough and adventurous journey which was accomplished by our travellers in the succeeding week, during which they became so familiar with tigers, that Muggins thought no more of their roaring than he did of the mewing of cats, while Larry actually got the length of kicking the "sarpints" out of his way, although he did express his conviction, now and then, that the "counthry wos mightily in want of a visit from Saint Patrick." They travelled steadily and surely under the guidance of the faithful Bunco, through tangled brake, and wild morass, and dense forest, and many a mile of sandy plain, until at length they reached the small town and port of _Tacames_, into which they entered one sultry afternoon, footsore and weary, with their clothes torn almost to tatters, and without a single coin--of any realm whatever--in their pockets.

"Well, here we are at last," said Will Osten, with a sigh.

"True for ye," responded Larry.

"That's so," said Muggins.

"It's all well as ends well, which wos Billy Cowper's opinion," observed Old Peter.

Bunco made no remark, but he gave a quiet grunt, which might have meant anything--or nothing--as they entered the town.


CHAPTER NINE.


DESCRIBES A SURGICAL OPERATION, AND RECORDS THE DELIBERATIONS OF A COUNCIL.

The town of Tacames, in the republic of Ecuador, is not large, neither is it important to the world, but it appeared both large and important in the eyes of our hero and his comrades. In their circumstances any town would have been regarded as a city of refuge, and their joy on arriving was not much, if at all, marred by the smallness and the poor appearance of the town, which, at that time, consisted of about twenty houses. They were built on the top of posts about twelve or fourteen feet from the ground--like the hut of the Spaniard already described-- because, being closely walled in by a dense jungle, tigers and huge monkeys were bold enough to pay the inhabitants nocturnal and unwelcome visits very frequently.

"A curious-looking place," observed Will Osten, as they drew near.

"So would the natives obsarve of London or Liverpool," said Old Peter.

"With less cause, however," replied Will.

"That depends on taste," retorted Old Peter.

"Be no manes," put in Larry; "it neither depinds on taste, nor smell, but feelin'--see now, here's how it is. We being in Tickamis, _feels_ it coorious; well av the natives here wos in London _they_ would feel it coorious. It's all a matter o' feelin' d'ye see--wan o' the five senses."

"Wot a muddlehead you are, Larry," growled Muggins; "ye don't even know that there's six senses."

"Only five," said the Irishman firmly--"seein', hearin', tastin', smellin', and feelin'; wot's the sixth sense?"

"One that you are chock full of--it's non-sense," replied Muggins.

"Think o' that, now!" exclaimed Larry, with a broad grin; "sure I wint an' forgot it, an' the sevinth wan, too, called common sense, of which, Muggins, you haven't got no more in yer skull than a blue-faced baboon. Hallo! wot's that? Is it a wild baist on its hind-legs or only a mad man?"

He pointed as he spoke to a man who approached them from the town, and whose appearance as well as his actions were well calculated to surprise them. He was a fine-looking man of gigantic size, with a poncho over his shoulders and a Spanish-looking sombrero on his head, but the most curious thing about him was his gait. At one moment he sauntered, holding his face between both hands, next moment he bent double and appeared to stamp with his feet. Then he hurried forward a few paces but paused abruptly, bent down and stamped again. Presently he caught sight of the travellers. At once his antics ceased. He raised himself erect, and advancing quickly, lifted his sombrero and saluted them with the air of a prince.

Will Osten addressed him in English, and, to his surprise as well as gratification, the Spaniard replied in the same tongue, which he spoke, however, in a most remarkable way, having learned it chiefly from the skippers of those vessels that touched at the port.

"I sall be happy to offer you hospitabilities, gentelmans," said Don Diego--(for so he styled himself). "If you vill come to meen house you vill grub there."

The grin of unnatural ferocity which Don Diego put on while he spoke, surprised and perplexed the travellers not a little, but he suddenly explained the mystery by clutching his hair, setting his teeth and muttering wildly while he gave a quick stamp with his foot--

"Skuse me, gentelmans, I got most desperable 'tack of toothick!"

Will Osten attempted to console Don Diego by telling him that he was a surgeon, and that if he could only obtain a pair of pincers he would soon remedy that evil; but the Spaniard shook his head and assured him that there was a miserable man in the town calling himself a vendor of physic, who had already nearly driven him mad by attempting several times to pull