Biff Brewster - Brazilian Gold Mine Mystery Part 3

Whitman came from the hut with a shotgun and gestured for the native, Urubu, to be on his way. Instead, Urubu grabbed for the gun and s.n.a.t.c.hed it from Whitman's grasp, tripping him at the same time. Mr. Brewster was starting forward on the run, but he was too far away to help Whitman.

Urubu raised the gun b.u.t.t to drive it down on Whitman's head. Biff could see the savage look on Urubu's face. Kamuka gripped Biff's arm. The native boy's voice was breathless: "Somebody must help Mr. Whitman! Quick!"

CHAPTER V.

The Spotted Terror THAT jog from Kamuka's hand gave Biff a sudden idea. Biff was holding the mirror so it threw a big spot of sunlight on the hut wall. The spot wavered when Kamuka jogged Biff's arm, and Urubu was only a dozen feet from the corner of the hut.

Biff changed the mirror's angle just a slight degree, spotting the light square in Urubu's eyes. That reflected glint of the sun was enough. Urubu dropped back, flinging his arm upward to shield his vision. Mr. Whitman came to his feet and grappled for the shotgun. A few seconds later, Mr. Brewster had pitched into the struggle.

They disarmed Urubu, who stood by glaring sullenly. Biff and Kamuka approached the group, and Jacome, who had pulled the canoe on sh.o.r.e, came up behind them.

"You know what the name Urubu means, Biff?" Kamuka asked.

Biff shook his head.

THE SPOTTED TERROR 41.

"It means vulture," the Indian boy said.

A chuckle came from Jacome. "A good name for Urubu. He is like one vulture!"

At close range, Urubu looked the part. He had a profile like a buzzard's. He stood by, a sullen look on his face, as Mr. Whitman told Mr. Brewster: "I turned down Urubu as a guide because he lied to me. He said he had guided safaris for the past five years, when part of that time he was in jail. Then he told our porters that I lied to them-"

"You did," put in Urubu. "You said that Senhor Brewster would arrive three days ago. Instead he has arrived only now-as you can see."

Urubu repeated those remarks to the native bearers in a mixture of Portuguese and Indian dialect. He was dumfounded when Mr. Brewster spoke to them in the same manner. Mr. Brewster's words brought a murmur of approval.

"They want to be paid for the days they waited," Mr. Brewster told Mr. Whitman. "I said we would pay them, and they are satisfied. Do you need Urubu as a guide?"

"I should say not!"

"Then we can send him away again."

That was unnecessary. When Mr. Brewster turned to speak to Urubu, the troublemaker was gone. He had made a quick departure by the nearest jungle path. Mr. Whitman promptly called for Luiz, the new guide, to step forward, and a small, bowing native came from the group of bearers.

42 .

Since it was not yet noon, Mr. Brewster ordered Luiz to get everything ready for an immediate start. Soon the native bearers, more than a dozen in number, were hoisting their packs and other equipment. Meanwhile, Biff was present at a last-minute conference between his father and Hal Whitman.

"We'll follow our original plan," stated Mr. Brewster. "If we strike off to the northwest and follow the regular trails, we will appear to be looking for balata like any other rubber-hunting expedition."

Biff knew that the term balata referred both to the rubber tree and its juice. He watched Hal Whitman mop perspiration from his forehead. Whitman's worry seemed to vanish with that process.

"We will be following the long side of a triangle," Biff's father continued, "while Joe Nara is going around by the Rio Negro, turning north after he pa.s.ses Sao Gabriel. But we now know exactly where to meet him. That will be at Piedra Del Cucuy."

"That's better than floundering around the headwaters of the Rio Negro," Whitman agreed. "I was afraid we would be on a wild goose chase, trying to find him there. It's lucky that you met up with Nara."

"Let's say that Nara met up with us," Mr. Brewster chuckled. "We'll meet again at Piedra Del Cucuy, provided Nara dodges those head-hunters. Since the rapids will delay him, we should reach the great rock as soon as Nara does."

"I'll talk to Luiz and see if he knows the best route-"

THE SPOTTED TERROR 43.

"Not yet!" warned Mr. Brewster. "Wait until we are deep in the jungle, with no chance of any spies being about, before we even mention Piedra Del Cucuy. Do you understand?"

The final query was meant for Biff as well as Mr. Whitman. Biff nodded, then went to join Kamuka, who was waiting to help him get his pack on his back. That done, they fell into the procession as it started out.

The first few miles gave Biff the false impression that a jungle trek was easy. The trail was smooth, well-trodden by mult.i.tudes of natives who had scoured the back country in search of balata. But as paths diverged, they became rougher.

Biff began stumbling over big roots that crossed the path, and when he kept his eyes turned down to watch for them, he lost sight of the bearers ahead of him and had trouble getting into line behind them. Once, Biff lost the trail entirely, and Kamuka overtook him just as he was blundering squarely into a fallen tree.

The obstacle was at shoulder level, and Kamuka, sighting the bearers taking a turn in the path beyond, suggested: "We climb over. Take short way back to trail."

Biff pressed aside some projecting branches as he clambered across the tree trunk, pack and all. His hands became sticky with some clinging substance.

"Spider web. Thick here," Kamuka said. He helped Biff brush away the fine-spun threads, and pointed

THE SPOTTED TERROR 45.

into the sunlight that filtered through the jungle foliage.

Glistening between the tree branches were the largest, thickest spider webs that Biff had ever seen. There were mult.i.tudes of them, forming what at first glance seemed an impa.s.sible barrier.

Kamuka settled that problem by clearing away the obstructing branches with hard, expert slashes of his machete, taking the webs with them.

The trail had become so irregular that the bearers frequently had to hack their way through the thick growth. Kamuka did the same, and Biff tried to copy the Indian youth's smooth style. Kamuka handled his machete easily, despite the pack that he carried. But with Biff, the pack shifted at every swing, and its straps cut into his back and shoulders.

Big Jacome was doing most of the trail blazing, with Kamuka close behind him. Mr. Brewster and Mr. Whitman did their share, while urging the bearers to take their turns at the work. All responded willingly, with the exception of the guide, Luiz, who was lagging behind.

"What's holding you back, Luiz?" Whitman demanded. "Why don't you get up ahead and take a hand at cutting the trail?"

"You pay others to cut trail, Senhor," returned Luiz. "You pay me to be guide. Nao?"

Biff's father overheard the argument and provided a prompt solution.

"Since you are the guide," he told Luiz, "suppose 46 .

you show us the trail. Possibly we have lost it. You lead; we will follow."

Mr. Brewster spoke in the Brazilian dialect that the bearers understood. Their solemn faces broadened at the expense of Luiz. Angrily, the undersized guide shouldered his way to the head of the line and began hacking at the brush with Jacome. Biff caught up with k.u.maka, who had waited while Luiz went by.

"You see his face?" asked Kamuka. "Luiz is very mad. He does not like hard work."

The glower that Luiz gave over his shoulder proved that Kamuka's opinion was correct. The keen-eyed Indian boy was quick to note that Biff's face also wore a pained expression, but for a different reason. Understandingly, Kamuka said: "You have trouble with pack. I fix it."

Expertly, he adjusted the straps to the fraction of an inch. From then on, the pack seemed to fit to Biff's back, giving him no more aches. What amazed Biff, though, was the fact that Kamuka's pack had no straps, but was laced to his back by crude ropes made from jungle vines. Yet it seemed to adjust itself to every move that Kamuka made.

Soon, the going became easier underfoot, and the path was free of obstacles. It was no longer necessary to hack through the jungle growth.

"Luiz bring us back to better trail," Kamuka confided to Biff. "Less work for Luiz."

It was less work for Biff, too, though he didn't say so. He was pleased because his father had handled the THE SPOTTED TERROR 47.

situation so neatly. Biff noted the happy grins on the faces of the bearers every time Mr. Brewster moved back and forth among them. Biff grinned, too, when his dad came by and gave him an encouraging whack on the pack which now seemed molded to Biff's body.

"It takes a few days to get into the swing of a safari," Mr. Brewster stated, "so don't be discouraged. Even the native bearers are struggling a bit, though they won't admit it. We'll call it a day as soon as we reach a suitable campsite."

About an hour later, the safari halted. Gratefully, the bearers eased their packs to the ground and began to set up camp at Whitman's direction, on a high bank above a jungle stream. The insects were bothersome, as they had been at intervals along the route, but the expedition was equipped to meet that problem. The packs contained netting for the sleeping hammocks, as well as insect repellent.

The chief feature of the campsite was its closeness to a water hole. Luiz approved this, making a great show of his official t.i.tle of guide. Biff, glad to be free of his pack, eagerly volunteered to help Kamuka bring up pails of water from the stream below. Halfway down, Kamuka hissed for a quick halt.

"We go back up quick," he said to Biff. "We tell Senhor Brewster we see tapir at water hole."

Kamuka pointed out a pair of curious dark brown animals, with clumsy, bulky bodies, stocky legs, and long-snouted heads. The creatures were feeding on 48 .

the leaves of young trees and appeared somewhat tame. Kamuka took no chance on frightening them away, however, as he beckoned Biff up the path.

Mr. Brewster promptly picked up a loaded rifle and accompanied the boys down the path. The tapirs were already lumbering into the brush when Biff's father took quick but accurate aim on one of the animals and fired.

One tapir dropped in its tracks, while its companion crashed madly into the jungle. The boys rushed down to the bank and found that the tapir was shot squarely through the head. When Mr. Brewster joined them, he smiled.

"That's the only way to shoot a tapir," he declared. "Otherwise, they blunder into the jungle wounded, and you can never find them. They have thick hides like a hippopotamus. In fact, they belong to the same family."

That night, the members of the safari feasted on tapir steaks, which they broiled on the p.r.o.ngs of long, forked sticks. Later, they went to sleep around the same campfire. All day, Biff had listened to the chatter of monkeys and the screech of birds. Now, howls of jungle animals seemed tuned to the heavy ba.s.so chorus of frogs from the stream below.

But despite that, Biff was soon sound asleep, the crackle of the campfire blending with his last waking moments. Some hours later, he woke up suddenly. The jungle concert had ended, and the flames had settled to a low, subdued flicker. Somebody should have THE SPOTTED TERROR 49.

tended the fire, Biff thought. He recalled his father discussing that point with Luiz shortly after they had finished dinner. Biff rolled from his hammock and groped toward some logs that lay beside the fire. There, he halted at sight of what appeared to be two live coals, glinting from a big log.

Biff pulled back his hand just in time, as the log came alive with a snarl. Biff realized that he had encountered some prowling beast of prey. He raised the alarm with a loud shout: "Dad! There's something here by the fire-"

Before Biff could complete the sentence, he saw that the creature was a huge jungle cat, its tawny yellow coat spotted black. Already, it was poising for a spring. Biff, caught unarmed, was confronted by an attacking jaguar, one of the jungle's most ferocious killers.

Biff heard an answering call from his father. Then, before Mr. Brewster could have possibly found time to grab his gun, the jaguar sprang!

CHAPTER VT.

Into the Quicksand BIFF flung his arms upward, as he tried to duck away. It was a hopeless effort, for nothing could have saved him from those fierce claws, once the jaguar reached him. What stopped the springing jungle cat was another figure, small but chunky, that came flying out of the darkness, feet first.

It was Kamuka. The Indian boy had grabbed a long liana vine hanging like a rope from a tree beside his high hammock. All in one motion, he had swung himself across the jaguar's path just in time to ram the creature's shoulder in mid-air and veer the big cat toward the fire.

That gave Biff time enough to roll the other way, and Kamuka, as he struck the ground, promptly squirmed about to dive off into the darkness. The scene was momentarily illuminated by a shower of sparks raised by the jaguar when it struck the fringe of the embers. With more of a yowl than a snarl, the INTO THE QUICKSAND 51.

big cat cleared the fire at a single bound and took off into the jungle.

Mr. Brewster had his gun by then, but with so many figures bouncing in the vague firelight, he couldn't risk a shot. By the time Biff and Kamuka were out of the way, Jacome had come on the scene, swinging a big club. Mr. Brewster had to wait until he was out of the path of aim, before firing into the jun-gle.

By then, Mr. Brewster might as well have fired blank shots. The jaguar had vanished completely in darkness. Jacome threw some logs on the fire, and as the flames took hold, he commented: "The tapir tiger-that is what we call the jaguar. A good name for him. Look there and you see why!"

Jacome indicated a chunk of cooked tapir meat, hanging from a tree branch near the fire. The smell of its favorite food had evidently drawn the "tapir tiger" in from the jungle. But that did not fully satisfy Mr. Brewster.

"Jaguars frequently kill and eat tapirs," Biff's father declared, "but they also shy away from campfires. I gave orders that this fire should be tended all night. Who neglected his duty?"

The final words were addressed to Luiz, who had just joined the group. The guide shrugged and gestured to some of the native bearers who were coming sleepily from their hammocks. They stared dumbly at Luiz, until Mr. Brewster queried them sharply in their dialect, getting headshakes from all.

52 .

"I will give the orders direct from now on," Mr. Brewster told Luiz bluntly, "and I intend to see that they are carried out." He looked up, noted the faint glimmer of daybreak through the high leaves, and added, "It is after dawn. Let's break camp and start on our way."

Biff expressed his thanks to Kamuka while the Indian boy was helping him prepare his pack.

"If you hadn't hopped to help me the way you did," a.s.serted Biff, "I would be just a chunk of tapir meat, or something a lot like it. I'll remember what you did for me, Kamuka."

"That is good," rejoined Kamuka solemnly. "I help you. You help me. That is the way in the jungle."

Biff felt that he was getting the knack of jungle ways during that day's trek, but he was due for new surprises. As they hacked a path through a thick growth of brush, he heard a sound that was sharply distinct from the screeches of the vivid parrots and macaws that continually scolded from the trees.

It was exactly like a hammer striking an anvil or some other chunk of solid metal. It came from well back in the jungle, and after it was repeated, Biff said to Kamuka: "Hear that! There must be a village back there in the jungle!"

Kamuka laughed as the clanging sound came again.

"El campanero" he defined. "That is what some people call it. Others call it the bellbird."

"You mean it's only a bird?"

INTO THE QUICKSAND 53.

As if in answer, the sharp note was repeated with methodical precision, and Biff recognized that it had a quality that could be mistaken for a bell rather than the clank of hammer on anvil. Biff kept looking for the bird itself until Kamuka noticed it and told him: "Bellbird very hard to find. He may be far away when you think he is close by."

Other creatures were closer at hand. From up ahead, Jacome turned and pointed to the path. He called something in his native tongue, and Biff watched the bearers take quick sidesteps. Then Kamuka was nudging Biff with his elbow and pointing out the reason.

A procession of ants was moving along the trail as though keeping pace with the safari. The insects were carrying thin green slivers that wobbled above their bodies. Biff saw that those were tiny fragments of leaves that the ants had gathered and evidently were going to store for food.

"Umbrella ants," defined Kamuka. "Be careful or they crawl up your leg instead of along path. Umbrella ants can bite-hard!"