CHAPTER XVI--ON THE BANKS OF A BEAUTIFUL RIVER

They would not allow Benee to harbour for a single moment the idea of stealing the queen and escaping with her into the forest.

Two thousand armed men were stationed within a mile of the camp, so Benee would speedily be killed, and in all likelihood Queen Peggy also.

No; and he must go no farther into the land of the cannibals.

But he, Shooks-gee, undertook to give the queen a little note-book, in which a letter was written from her "brother", stating that all haste was being made to come to her deliverance. He would receive back the note-book, and therein would doubtless be written poor Peggy's letter. Meanwhile Benee must wait.

Shooks-gee started on his mission next day.

He was away for a whole week, but it seemed but a few hours to Benee. He had divested himself of his arms, and given the cloth and beads to Weenah's mother. Then all the dear old life of his boyhood seemed to be renewed. Weenah and he wandered wild and free once more in the forest and over the heath-clad plains; they fished in lake and stream; they ate and drank together under the shade of the pine-tree, and listened to the love-song of the sweet soo-soo.

It was all like a happy, happy dream. And is not the love-life of the young always a dream of bliss? Ah! but it is one from which there is ever an awakening.

And with the return of Shooks-gee, Benee's dream came to an end.

Peggy had written her long, sad story in the notebook.

Benee knew it was long, but he could not read it.

Then farewells were said.

The child Weenah clung to Benee's neck and wept. She thought she could not let him go, and at last he had to gently tear himself away and disappear speedily in the forest.

Just one glance back at Weenah's sad and wistful face, then the jungle swallowed him up, and he would be seen by Weenah, mayhap, never again.

----

It was not without considerable misgivings that Roland and Dick Temple made a start for the country of the cannibals.

The relief party consisted but of one hundred white men all told, with about double that number of carriers. It was, of course, the first real experience of these boys on the war-path, and difficulty after difficulty presented itself, but was bravely met and overcome.

"Uneasy lies the head that wears a crown."

Probably the general of an army, be it of what size it may, is more to be pitied than even a king. The latter has his courtiers and his parliament to advise him; the general is _princeps_, he is chief, and has only his own skill and judgment to fall back upon.

It had been suggested by Burly Bill that instead of journeying overland as a first start, and having to cross the whirling river Purus and many lesser streams before striking the Madeira some distance above the Amazon, they should drop down-stream in steamer-loads, and assemble at the junction of the former with the latter.

Neither Roland nor Dick thought well of the plan, and herein lay their first mistake. Not only was it weeks before they were able to reach the Madeira, but they had the grief of losing one white man and one Indian with baggage in the crossing of the Purus.

We cannot put old heads on young shoulders; nevertheless the wise youth never fails to profit by the experience of his elders.

Even when they reached the forest lands on the west side of the Madeira, another long delay ensued. For here they had to encamp on somewhat damp and unwholesome ground until Burly Bill should descend the stream to hire canoes or boats suitable for passing the rapids.

Don Pedro or Peter was now doing his best to make himself agreeable. He was laughing and singing all day long, but this fact in no way deceived Roland, and as a special precaution he told off several white men to act as detectives and to be near him by day and by night.

If Peter were really the blood-guilty wretch that Roland, if not Dick, believed him to be, he made one mistake now. He tried his very utmost to make friends with Brawn, the great Irish wolf-hound, but was, of course, unsuccessful.

"I sha'n't take bite nor sup from that evil man's hand," Brawn seemed to say to himself. "He looks as if he would poison me. But," he added, "he shall have my undivided attention at night."

And so this huge hound guarded Peter, never being ten yards away from the man's sleeping-skin till up leapt the sun in the gold and crimson east and shone on the waters of the beautiful river.

"That dog is getting very fond of you, I think," said Roland one day to Peter, while Brawn was snuffing his hand. "You see how well he protects you by night. He will never lie near to either Dick or me."

Peter replied in words that were hardly audible, but were understood to mean that he was obliged to Brawn for his condescension. But he somewhat marred the beauty of his reply by adding a swear-word or two at the end.

While they waited in camp here for the return of Bill and his crews, they went in for sport of several sorts.

The fish in this river are somewhat remarkable--remarkable alike for their numbers and for their appearance--but all are not edible.

"How are we to know, I wonder, which we should cook and which we shouldn't?" said Roland to his friend, Dick Temple.

"I think," replied Dick, "that we may safely cook any of them, but, as to eating, why, I should only eat those that are nice in flavour."

"That's right. We'll be guided by that rule."

The boys fished from canoes which they hired or requisitioned from the Indian natives of the place. Clever these fellows are, and the manner in which they watch for and harpoon or even spear a huge "boto"--which looks like a long-snouted porpoise or "sea-pig"--astonished our heroes.

This fish is killed by whites only for its oil, but the Indians did not hesitate to cut huge fourteen-pound pieces from the back to take home for culinary purposes.

The "piraroocoo" is an immense fellow, and calculated to give good sport for a long summer day if you do not know how to handle him.

This "'roocoo", as some of the natives call him, likes to hang around in the back reaches of the river, and is often found ten feet in length.

He has the greatest objection in the world to being caught, and to being killed after being dragged on shore. Moreover, he has a neat and very expert way of lifting a canoe on his back for a few seconds, and letting it down bottom-upwards.

When he does so, you, the sportsman or piscador, find yourself floundering in the water. You probably gulp down about half a gallon of river water, but you thank your stars you learned to swim when a boy, and strike out for the bank. But five to one you have a race to run with an intelligent 'gator. If he is hungry, you may as well think about some short prayer to say; if he is not very ravenous, you may win just by a neck.

This last was an experience of Dick's one day; when a 'roocoo capsized his frail canoe and his Indian and he got spilt.

Luckily Roland was on the beach, and just as a huge 'gator came ploughing up behind poor Dick, with head and awful jaws above water, Roland took steady aim and fired. Then the creature turned on his back, and the river was dyed with blood.

The natives salt the 'roocoo and eat it. But Roland's Indian carriers managed to get through as many as could be caught, without any salt worth speaking about.

Surely the fish in this beautiful river must have thought it strange, that so many of their number were constantly disappearing heavenwards at the end of a line. But it did not trouble them very much after all, and they learnt no lesson from what they saw, but took the bait as readily as ever.

There were very many other species of fish, which not only gave good sport but made a most delicious _addendum_ to the larder.

Boats and canoes were now in the river all day long, and with the fish caught, and the turtle which were found in great abundance, not to mention the wild animals killed in the woods, Roland managed to feed his little army well.

There is one fish in this river which is sometimes called "diabolo". He is no relation at all, however, to the real octopus or devil-fish, for this creature is flat. It seems a species of ray, and has an immense mouthful of the very sharpest of teeth. He is not at all dainty as to what he eats. He can make a meal off fresh-water shell-fish; he can swallow his smaller brothers of the deep; take a snack from a dead 'gator, and is quite at home while discussing a nice tender one-pound steak from a native's leg.

The young 'gator is neither fish, flesh, nor good red-herring. Yet if you catch one not over a yard long, and he doesn't catch you--for he has a wicked way of seizing a man by the hand and holding on till his mother comes,--his tail, stewed or fried with a morsel of pork, will tide you over a "hungry hillock" very pleasantly indeed.

If we turn to the pleasant reaches of the River Madeira, or the quiet back-waters, and, gun on shoulder, creep warily through the bush and scrub, we shall be rewarded with a sight that will well repay our caution.

Here of an early morning we shall see water-fowl innumerable, and of the greatest beauty imaginable.

Hidden from view, one is loth indeed to fire a shot and so disturb Nature's harmony, but prefers, for a time at all events, to crouch there quietly and watch the strange antics of the male birds and the meek docility of the female.

Here are teal, black ducks, strange wild geese, brown ducks, sheldrakes, widgeons, and whatnot.

And yonder on the shore, in all sorts of droll attitudes with their ridiculously long necks and legs, are storks and herons. I think they like to perform their toilet close to the calm pellucid water, because it serves the same purpose to them as a bedroom mirror does to us.

Young tapirs form a welcome addition to the larder, and the woods all round abound in game.

What a paradise! and yet this country is hardly yet known to us young Britons. We hear of ague. Bah! Regularity of living, and a dust of quinine, and camping in the open, can keep fever of all sorts at bay.

Some may be surprised that our heroes should have settled down, as it were, so enthusiastically to fishing and sporting, although uncertain all the while as to the fate of poor kidnapped Peggy.

True, but we must remember that activity and constant employment are the only cure for grief. So long, then, as Roland and Dick were busy with gun or fishing-rod, they were free from thought and care.

But after sunset, when the long dark night closed over the camp; when the fire-flies danced from bush to bush, and all was still save the wind that sighed among the trees, or the voices of night-birds and prowling beasts, and the rush of the river fell on the ear in drowsy, dreamy monotone, then the boys felt their anxiety acutely enough, but bravely tried to give each other courage, and their conversation, oft-repeated, was somewhat as follows:--

_Roland_. "You're a bit gloomy to-night, Dick, I think?"

_Dick_. "Well, Roll, the night is so pitchy dark, never a moon, and only a star peeping out now and then. Besides I am thinking of--"

_Roland_. "Hush! hush! aren't we both always thinking about her? Though I won't hesitate to say it is wrong not to be hopeful and cheerful."

_Dick_. "But do you believe--"

_Roland_. "I believe this, Dick, that if those kidnapping revengeful Indians had meant murder they would have slain the dear child in bed and not have resorted to all that horrible trickery--instigated without doubt by somebody. She has been taken to the country of the cannibals, but not to be tortured. She is a slave, let us hope, to some Indian princess, and well-guarded too. What we have got to do is to trust in God. I'm no preacher, but that is so. And we've got to do our duty and rescue Peggy."

_Dick_. "Dead or alive, Roland."

_Roland_. "Dead or alive, Dick. But Heaven have mercy on the souls of those who harm a hair of her head!"

----

Dick did his best to trust in Providence, but often in the middle watches of the night he would lie in his tent thinking, thinking, and unable to sleep; then, after perhaps an uneasy slumber towards morning, awake somewhat wearily to resume the duties of the day.