CHAPTER XIX--STRUGGLING ONWARDS UP-STREAM

"But," said Roland, "it would be a pity to let even Peter die, as we may have need of him. Let us send for Charlie at once. Perhaps he can tell us of an antidote."

The Indian was not far off.

"Fire-water", was his reply to Dick's question, "and dis."

"Dis" was the contents of a tiny bottle, which he speedily rubbed into the wound in Peter's hand.

The steward, as one of the men was called, quickly brought a whole bottle of rum, the poisoned man's jaws were forced open, and he was literally drenched with the hot and fiery spirit.

But spasm after spasm took place after this, and while the body was drawn up with cramp, and the muscles knotted and hard, the features were fearfully contorted.

By Roland's directions chloroform was now poured on a handkerchief, and after this was breathed by the sufferer for a few minutes the muscles became relaxed, and the face, though still pale as death, became more sightly.

More rum and more rubbing with the antidote, and Mr. Peter slept in peace.

About sunrise he awoke, cold and shivering, but sensible.

After a little more stimulant he began to talk.

"Bitten by a snake, have I not been?"

"Mr. Peter," said Roland sternly, "you have narrowly escaped the death you would have meted out to poor Brawn with your cruel and accursed arrow.

"You may not love the dog. He certainly does not love you, and dogs are good judges of character. He tree'd you, and you sought revenge. You doubtless have other reasons to hate Brawn, but his life is far more to us than yours. Now confess you meant to do for him, and then to make your way down-stream by stealing a canoe."

"I do not, will not confess," cried Peter. "It is a lie. I am here against my will. I am kidnapped. I am a prisoner. The laws of even this country--and sorry I am ever I saw it--will and shall protect me."

Roland was very calm, even to seeming carelessness.

"We are on the war-path at present, my friend," he said very quietly. "You are suspected of one of the most horrible crimes that felon ever perpetrated, that of procuring the abduction of Miss St. Clair and handing her over to savages."

"As Heaven is above us," cried Peter, "I am guiltless of that!"

"Hush!" roared Roland, "why take the sacred name of Heaven within your vile lips. Were you not about to die, I would strike you where you stand."

"To die, Mr. Roland? You--you--you surely don't mean--"

Roland placed a whistle to his lips, and its sound brought six stern men to his side.

"Bind that man's hands behind his back and hang him to yonder tree," was the order.

In two minutes' time the man was pinioned and the noose dangling over his head.

As he stood there, arrayed but in shirt and trousers, pale and trembling, with the cold sweat on his brow, it would have been difficult even to imagine a more distressing and pitiable sight.

His teeth chattered in his head, and he swayed about as if every moment about to fall.

A man advanced, and was about to place the noose around his neck when:

"A moment, one little moment!" cried Peter. "Sir--Mr. St. Clair--I did mean to take your favourite dog's life."

"And Miss St. Clair?"

"I am innocent. If--I am to be lynched--for--that--you have the blood of a guiltless man on your head."

Dick Temple had seen enough. He advanced now to Peter's side.

"Your crime deserves lynching," he said, "but I will intercede for you if you promise me sacredly you will never attempt revenge again. If you do, as sure as fate you shall swing."

"I promise--Oh--I promise!"

Dick retired, and after a few minutes' conversation with Roland, the wretched man was set free.

_Entre nous_, reader, Roland had never really meant to lynch the man. But so utterly nerveless and broken-down was Mr. Peter now, that as soon as he was released he threw himself on the ground, crying like a child.

Even Brawn pitied him, and ran forward and actually licked the hands of the man who would have cruelly done him to death.

So noble is the nature of our friend the dog.

----

The voyage up-stream was now continued. But the progress of so many boats and men was necessarily slow, for all had to be provided for, and this meant spending about every alternate day in shooting, fishing, and collecting fruit and nuts.

The farther up-stream they got, however, the more lightsome and cheerful became the hearts of our heroes.

They began to look upon Peggy as already safe in their camp.

"I say, you know," said Dick one day, "our passage up is all toil and trouble, but won't it be delightful coming back."

"Yes, indeed," said Roland, smiling.

"We sha'n't hurry, shall we?"

"Oh, no! poor Peggy's health must need renovating, and we must let her see all that is to be seen."

"Ye--es, of course! Certainly, Roll, and it will be all just too lovely for anything, all one deliciously delicious picnic."

"I hope so."

"Don't look quite so gloomy, Roland, old man. I tell you it is all plain sailing now. We have only to meet Benee when we get as far as the rendezvous, then strike across country, and off and away to the land of the cannibals and give them fits."

"Oh, I'm not gloomy, you know, Dick, though not quite so hopeful as you! We have many difficulties to encounter, and there may be a lot of fighting after we get there; and, mind you, that game of giving fits is one that two can play at."

"Choorka! Choorka!" shouted the captain of the leading boat, a swarthy son of the river.

As he spoke, he pointed towards the western bank, and thither as quickly as paddles could send him his boat was hurried. For they had been well out in the centre of the river, and had reached a place where the current was strong and swift.

But closer to the bank it was more easy to row.

Nevertheless, two of the canoes ran foul of a snag. One was capsized at once, and the other stuck on top.

The 'gators here were in dozens apparently, and before the canoe could be righted two men had been dragged below, the brown stream being tinged with their gushing blood.

Both were Indians, but nevertheless their sad death cast a gloom over the hearts of everyone, which was not easily dispelled.

On again once more, still hugging the shore; but after dinner it was determined to stay where they were for the night.

They luckily found a fine open back-water, and this they entered and were soon snug enough.

They could not be idle, however. Food must be collected, and everything--Roland determined--must go on like clock-work, without hurry or bustle.

Soon, therefore, after the canoes were made fast, both Indians and whites were scattered far and near in the forest, on the rocks and hills, and on the rivers.

I believe that all loved the "boys", as Roland and Dick were called by the white men, and so all worked right cheerfully, laughing and singing as they did so.

Ten men besides our heroes and Burly Bill had remained behind to get the tents up and to prepare the evening meal, for everybody would return as hungry as alligators, and these gentry seem to have a most insatiable appetite.

Just before sunset on this particular evening Roland and Dick had another interview with Mr. Peter.

"I should be a fool and a fraud, Mr. Peter," said the former, "were I to mince matters. Besides, it is not my way. I tell you, then, that during our journey you will have yonder little tent to yourself to eat and to sleep in. I tell you, too, that despite your declarations of innocence I still suspect you, that nevertheless no one will be more happy than Mr. Temple here and myself if you are found not guilty. But you must face the music now. You must be guarded, strictly guarded, and I wish you to know that you are. I wish to impress upon you also that your sentries have strict orders to shoot you if you are found making any insane attempt to escape. In all other respects you are a free man, and I should be very sorry indeed to rope or tie you. Now you may go."

"My time will come," said Mr. Peter meaningly.

His face was set and determined.

"Is this a threat?" cried Roland, fingering his revolver.

But Peter's dark countenance relaxed at once.

"A threat!" he said. "No, no, Mr. Roland. I am an unarmed man, you are armed, and everyone is on your side. But I repeat, my time will come to clear my character; that is all.

"So be it, Mr. Peter."

And the man retired to his tent breathing black curses deep though not aloud.

"I've had enough of this," he told himself. "And escape that young cub's tyranny I must and shall, even should I die in my tracks. Curse them all!"

----

Next day a deal of towing was required, for the river was running fierce and strong, and swirling in angry eddies and dangerous maelstroms even close to the bank.

This towing was tiresome work, and although all hands bent to it, half a mile an hour was their highest record.

But now they neared the terrible rapids of Antonio, and once more a halt was called for the night, in order that all might be fresh and strong to negotiate these torrents.

Next day they set to work.

All the cargo had to be got on shore, and a few armed men were left to guard it. Then the empty boats were towed up.

For three or four miles the river dashed onward here over its rocky bed, with a noise like distant thunder, a chafing, boiling, angry stream, which but to look at caused the eyes to swim and the senses to reel.

There are stretches of comparatively calm water between the rapids, and glad indeed were Roland's brave fellows to reach these for a breathing-spell.

In the afternoon, before they were half-way through these torrents, a halt was called for the night in a little bay, and the baggage was brought up.

They fell asleep that night with the roar of the rapids in their ears, and the dreams of many of them were far indeed from pleasant.

Morning brought renewal of toil and struggle. But "stout hearts to stey braes" is an excellent old Scottish motto. It was acted on by this gallant expedition, and so in a day or two they found themselves in a fresh turmoil of water beneath the splendid waterfalls of Theotonia.

The river was low, and in consequence the cataract was seen at its best, though not its maddest. Fancy, if you can, paddling to keep your way--not to advance--face to face with a waterfall a mile at least in breadth, and probably forty feet in height, divided into three by rocky little islands, pouring in white-brown sheets sheer down over the rock, and falling with a steady roar into the awful cauldrons beneath. It is like a small Niagara, but, with the hills and rocks and stately woods, and the knowledge that one is in an uncivilized land, among wild beasts and wilder men, far more impressive.

Our young heroes were astonished to note the multitudes of fish of various kinds on all sides of them. The pools were full.

The larger could be easily speared, but bait of any kind they did not seem to fancy. They were troubled and excited, for up the great stream and through the wild rapids they had made their way in order to spawn in the head-waters of the Madeira and its tributaries. But Nature here had erected a barrier.

Yet wild were their attempts to fling themselves over. Many succeeded. The fittest would survive. Others missed, or, gaining but the rim of the cataract, were hurled back, many being killed.

Another halt, another night of dreaming of all kinds of wild adventures. The Indians had told the whites, the evening before, strange legends about the deep, almost bottomless, pools beneath the falls.

Down there, according to them, devils dwell, and hold high revelry every time the moon is full. Dark? No it is not dark at the bottom, for Indians who have been dragged down there and afterwards escaped, have related their adventures, and spoken of the splendid caverns lit up by crimson fire, whose mouths open into the water. Caverns more gorgeous and beautiful than eyes of men ever alight upon above-ground. Caverns of crystal, of jasper, onyx, and ruby; caverns around whose stalactites demons, in the form of six-legged snakes, writhe and crawl, but are nevertheless possessed of the power to change their shapes in the twinkling of an eye from the horrible and grotesque to the beautiful.

Prisoners from the upper world are tortured here, whether men, women, or children, and the awful rites performed are too fearful--so say the Indians--to be even hinted at.

The cargo first and the empty canoes next had to be portaged half a mile on shore and above the lovely linn. This was extremely hard work, but it was safely accomplished at last.

Roland was not only a born general, but a kind-hearted and excellent master. He never lost his temper, nor uttered a bad or impatient word, and thus there was not an Indian there who would not have died for him and his companion Dick.

Moreover, the officer-Indians found that kind words were more effectual than cuts with the bark whips they carried, or blows with the hand on naked shoulders.

And so the march and voyage was one of peace and comfort.

Accidents, however, were by no means rare, for there were snags and sunken rocks to be guarded against, and more than one of the small canoes were stove and sunk, with the loss of precious lives.

----

Roland determined not to overwork his crew. This might spoil everything, for many of the swamps in the neighbourhood of which they bivouacked are pestilential in the extreme.

Mosquitoes were found rather a plague at first, but our boys had come prepared.

They carried sheets of fine muslin--the ordinary mosquito-nets are useless--for if a "squeeter" gets one leg through, his body very soon wriggles after, and then he begins to sing a song of thanksgiving before piercing the skin of the sleeper with his poison-laden proboscis. But mosquitoes cannot get through the muslin, and have to sing to themselves on the other side.

After a time, however, the muslin was not thought about, for all hands had received their baptism of blood, and bites were hardly felt.