Through Forest and Stream Part 4

As we ran in we had our last sight of the distant vessel which had brought us so far on our journey, and Uncle d.i.c.k, who was standing up forward to direct me in my steering, cried--

"Nothing could be better, Nat. It's like landing on one of our old islands. Neither hut nor inhabitant to be seen. This is genuine wild country, and we shall find a river to-morrow. I was half afraid that we should be coming upon sugar or coffee plantations, or perhaps men cutting down the great mahogany trees."

I was as delighted as he was, for my mind was full of the gloriously-plumaged bird we meant to shoot, and there in imagination I peopled the flower-decked bushes with flashing humming-birds whose throats and crests glowed with scale-like feathers, brilliant as the precious stones--emerald, topaz, ruby, and sapphire--after which they were named. The great forest trees would be, I felt sure, full of the screaming parrot tribe, in their uniforms of leafy green, faced with orange, blue, and crimson; while, farther up the country, there would be the splendid quetzals, all metallic golden-green and scarlet.

But I had little time for thought. In a short time, in obedience to my uncle's orders, I had steered the boat right into the mouth of the little stream beyond where the salt waves broke; the sail was lowered and furled and the anchor carried ash.o.r.e and fixed between two ma.s.ses of rock, so that it could not be dragged out by the tugging of the craft.

"Wouldn't do to wake up and find our boat gone, Nat," said Uncle d.i.c.k, "if we set up our tent on sh.o.r.e. The sand looks very tempting, and we are not likely to be disturbed. But now then, start a fire, while I unpack some stores, and--yes--we will. We'll set up the tent to sleep under. More room to stretch our legs."

I was not long in getting a fire burning, with the kettle full of the beautiful rivulet water heating; while Uncle d.i.c.k stuck in the two pointed and forked sticks with which we were provided, laid the pole from fork to fork, and spread the oiled canvas sheet over it, so that there was a shelter from the night dews.

But before our coffee was ready and the bacon for our supper fried, night was upon us, and the bushes near scintillating in the most wondrous way, every twig seeming to be alive with fire-flies.

For a short s.p.a.ce of time, as we sat there on the sands, partaking of our meal--than which nothing more delicious had ever pa.s.sed my lips--all was still but the lapping of the tiny waves and the musical trickling of the rivulet amongst the rocks and stones. Then I jumped, for a peculiar cry arose from the forest behind us, and this seemed to be the signal for an outburst of sounds new to me, piping, thrumming, drumming, shrieking, howling, grunting in every variety, and I turned to look in Uncle d.i.c.k's face, which was lit up by the glow from our little wood fire.

"Brings back old times in the South American forests, Nat," he said coolly. "I could put a name to nearly every musician at work in Nature's orchestra yonder."

"What was that horrible cry?" I whispered. "Jaguar or puma?"

"Neither, my boy; only a heron or crane somewhere up the stream."

"That snorting croak, then?"

"Only frogs or toads, Nat; and that chirruping whirring is something in the cricket or cicada way. If we heard a jaguar or puma, it would most likely be a magnified tom-cat-like sort of sound."

"But that mournful howl, uncle?" I whispered.

"A poor, melancholy spider-monkey saying good-night to his friends in the big trees. Most of the other cries are made by night-birds out on the hunt for their suppers. That cry was made by a goat-sucker, one of those 'Chuck-Will's-widow' sort of fellows. They're very peculiar, these night-hawks. Even ours at home keeps up that whirring, spinning-wheel-like sound in the Surrey and Suss.e.x fir-woods. Ah, that's a dangerous creature, if you like!" he said, in a whisper.

"Which?" I said, below my breath.

"That piping _ping-wing-wing_."

"Why, that's a mosquito, uncle," I cried contemptuously.

"The only thing likely to attack us to-night, Nat," he said, laughing; "but we'll have the guns and everything ready all the same."

"To shoot the mosquitoes, uncle?"

"No, but anything that might--mind, I say _might_--come snuffing about us."

Uncle d.i.c.k was so calm and cool over it that he made me the same, and the little nervous sensation caused by the novelty of my position soon pa.s.sed away. The guns were loaded and laid ready, a couple of blankets spread, and utterly wearied out, after making up the fire, we crept into our tent and lay down to get a good night's sleep.

"We'll rest on sh.o.r.e wherever it's safe, Nat," were Uncle d.i.c.k's last words. "It's nicer to have the solid ground under you. This is a treat; the sand's like a feather bed; but we shan't often have such a luxurious place. Good-night."

"One moment, uncle," I whispered, as I heard a rustling sound somewhere in the bushes. "What do you think is making that?"

I waited for him to answer, under the impression that he was listening to make sure before he replied; but as he took no heed, I spoke again, but only to hear his hard breathing, for he was fast asleep, and I started up in horror, for the strange rustling sound, as of a huge snake or alligator creeping through the dry gra.s.s and bushes, began again much nearer than before.

CHAPTER FOUR.

THE DANGERS OF THE NIGHT.

It is not pleasant to hear a noise as of something forcing its way through bushes close by your bedside, when instead of the strong walls of a house in a thickly inhabited place, with police to protect you, there is nothing but a thin piece of canvas between you and a forest swarming, for aught you can tell, with hosts of dangerous creatures seeking their prey.

I felt that in my first night where I lay by the outskirts of one of the Central American forests, and I should have seized Uncle d.i.c.k by the arm and shaken him into wakefulness but for the dread of being considered cowardly.

For he seemed so calm and confident that I dared not wake him up, to be told that the noise I heard was only made by some innocent animal that would flee for its life if I slipped outside.

"I wonder whether that would," I said to myself. "I'll try."

I made up my mind that I would take my double gun from where it lay beside me and go out; but it was a long time before I could make up my body to act; and when at last, in anger with myself for being so cowardly, I did creep out softly and make a dash in the direction of the sound, I was bathed in perspiration, and my legs shook beneath me, for I felt certain that the next minute I should be seized by some monstrous creature ready to spring at me out of the darkness.

But nothing did seize me. For there was a thud and a faint crash repeated again and again, and though I could not see, I felt certain that the fire had attracted some deer-like creature, which had gone bounding off, till all was silent again, when I crept back, letting the canvas fall behind me, feeling horribly conceited, and thinking what a brave fellow I must be.

I must have gone off to sleep directly I lay down then, for one moment I was looking at the dull-reddish patch in the canvas behind which the fire was burning, and the next everything was blank, till all at once I was wide awake, with a hand laid across my mouth, and the interior of our sc.r.a.p of a tent so dark that I could see nothing; but I could hear someone breathing, and directly after Uncle d.i.c.k whispered:

"Lie still--don't speak."

He removed his hand then, and seemed to be listening.

"Hear anything, Nat?" he said.

"Not now, uncle. I did a little while ago, and took my gun and went out."

"Ah! What was it?"

"Some kind of deer, and it bounded away."

"It was no deer that I heard, my boy," he whispered, "but something big and heavy. Whatever it was trod upon a stick or a sh.e.l.l, and it snapped loudly and woke me up. There it is again."

I heard the sound quite plainly in the darkness, and it was exactly as Uncle d.i.c.k described, but I leaned towards its being a fragile sh.e.l.l trodden on by some big animal or a man.

"Couldn't be one of the great cats?" I whispered.

"Oh, no! they tread like velvet."

"Could it be a tapir?"

"Not a likely place for one. Hist!"

I was silent, and lay listening, so to speak, with all my might, till a low swishing sound reached us, just as if someone had brushed against a bush.

Uncle d.i.c.k laid his hand upon my shoulder, and he pressed it hard, as if silently saying, "Did you hear that?"

I answered him in a similar way, and then he whispered: