CHAPTER XXI--THE FOREST IS SHEETED IN FLAMES

For just a few moments Roland was taken aback. Then, in a steady manly voice that could be heard all over the camp, he gave the order.

"All men down! The Indians are approaching from the west. Fire low, lads--between you and the light.

"Don't waste a shot!" he added.

Three Indians bit the dust at the first volley, and though the rest struggled on to the attack, it was only to be quickly repulsed.

In ten minutes' time all had fled, and the great forest and woodland was as silent as before.

It was Roland's voice that again broke the stillness.

"Rally round, boys," he shouted, "and let me know the worst."

The sacrifice of life, however, was confined to three poor fellows, one white man and two peons; and no one was wounded.

Nobody thought of going to sleep again on this sad night, and when red clouds were at last seen over the green-wooded horizon, heralding the approach of day, a general sense of relief was felt by all in the little camp.

Soon after sunrise breakfast was served, and eaten with avidity by all hands now in camp, for scouts were out, and Dick and Roland awaited the news they would bring with some degree of impatience.

The scouting was really a sort of reconnaisance in force, by picked Indians and whites under the command of the redoubtable Burly Bill.

Suddenly Brawn raised his head and gave vent to an angry "wouff!" and almost at the same time the sound of distant rifle-firing fell on the ears of the little army.

Half an hour after this, Bill and two men stepped out from the bush and advanced.

His brow was bound with a blood-stained handkerchief.

It was a spear wound, but he would not hear of it being dressed at present.

"What cheer then, Bill?"

"Not much of that," he answered, throwing himself down and lighting that marvellous meerschaum, from which he appeared to get so much consolation.

"Not a vast deal of cheer. Yes, I'll eat after I gets a bit cooler like."

"Ay, we'll have to fight the Dun-skins. They swarm in the forest between us and the Madeira, and they are about as far from bein' angels as any durned nigger could be."

"And what do you advise, Bill?"

"Well," was the reply, "as soon as your boys get their nose-bags off, my advice is to set to work with spade and shovel and transform this 'ere camp into a fortress.

"Ay, and it is one we won't be able to abandon for days and days to come," he added.

The men were now speedily told off to duty, and in a very short time had made the camp all but impregnable, and quite strong enough to give an excellent account of any number of Dun-skins.

The Paynee Indians are a semi-nomadic tribe of most implacable savages, who roam over hill and dell and upland, hunting or fighting as the case may be, but who have nevertheless a home in the dark mountain fastnesses of the far interior.

They are cannibals, though once, long, long ago, a band of Jesuits attempted their reclamation.

These brave missionaries numbered in all but one hundred and twenty men, and they went among the terrible natives with, figuratively speaking, their prayer-books in one hand, their lives in the other.

All went well for a time. They succeeded in winning the affections of the savages. They erected rude churches, and even to this day crosses of stone are to be found in this wild land, half-buried among the rank vegetation.

But there came a day, and a sad one it was, when the cannibals were attacked by a wild hill-tribe. These highlanders had heard that, owing to the new religion, their ancient enemies had degenerated into old wives and squaws.

A terrible battle ensued, during which the men from the uplands found out their mistake, for they were repulsed with fearful slaughter.

All might have gone well with the Jesuits even yet but for one _contretemps_.

At the very moment when the savages returned wildly exultant from the hills, bearing, horrible to relate, joints of human flesh on their spears, there came from the east a party of men who had been down to the banks of the Madeira, and had attacked and looted a small steamer that among other things had much fire-water on board.

Oh, that accursed fire-water, how terrible its results wherever on earth it gains ascendancy!

All the fearful passions of these savages were soon let loose. The scene was like pandemonium.

The poor Jesuits hid themselves in their little church, barricading the door, and devoting the first part of the night to prayer and song. But at midnight the awful howling of the cannibals coming nearer and nearer told them that they had been missed, and that their doom was now sealed.

Only one man escaped to tell the terrible tale.

And these, or rather their descendants, were the very cannibals that Roland's little army had now to do battle with.

Both he and Dick, however, kept up a good heart.

There was ammunition enough to last for months of desultory firing, if necessary, and when the attack was made at last, after Bill's scouts had been driven in, the savages learned a lesson they were never likely to forget.

Brave indeed they were, and over and over again they charged, spear in hand, almost into the trenches. But only to be thrust back wounded, or to die where they stood, beneath a steady revolver fire.

But they retreated almost as quickly as they had come, and once more sought the shelter of bush and jungle.

Not for very long, however. They were evidently determined that the little garrison should enjoy no peace.

They had changed their tactics now, and instead of making wild rushes towards the ramparts, they commenced to bombard the fort with large stones.

With their slings the Bolivian Indians can aim with great precision, for they learn the art when they are mere infants.

As no one showed above the ramparts, there was in this case no human target for the missiles, but use was made of larger stones, and these kept falling into the trenches in all directions, so that much mischief was done and many men were hurt.

A terrible rifle fire was now opened upon that part of the bush in which the cannibal savages were supposed to be in force, and from the howling and shrieking that immediately followed, it was evident that many bullets were finding their billets.

But soon even these sounds died away, and it was evident enough that the enemy had retired, no doubt with the intention of inventing some new form of attack. There was peace now for many hours, and Roland took advantage of this to order dinner to be got ready. No men, unless it be the Scotch, can fight well on empty stomachs.

The wounded were attended to and made as comfortable as possible, and after this there was apparently very little to do except to wait and watch.

Burly Bill brought out his consolatory meerschaum. But while he puffed away, he was not idle. He was thinking.

Now thinking was not very much in this honest fellow's line. Action was more his _forte_. But the present occasion demanded thought.

The afternoon was already far spent. The sentries--lynx-eyed Indians, rifles in hand--were watching the bush, and longing for a shot. Roland and Dick, with Bill and big Brawn, were seated in the shade of a green and spreading tree, and all had been silent for some considerable time.

"I say, young fellows!" said Bill at last, "this kind of lounging doesn't suit me. What say you to a council of war?"

"Well, you've been thinking, Bill?"

"Ay, I've been doin' a smart bit o' that. Let us consult Charlie."

Charlie the ex-cannibal was now brought forward and seated on the grass.

There was a deal of practical knowledge in this Indian's head. His had been a very long experience of savage warfare and wandering in forests and wilds; and he was proud now to be consulted.

"Charlie," said Bill, "what do you think of the situation?"

"De sit-uation?" was the reply. "Me not likee he. Me tinkee we sitee too much. Byme by, de cannibal he come much quick. Ah! dere will soon be muchee much too much sabage cannibal! Fust de killee you and den de eatee you, and make fine bobbery. Ha! ha!"

"Well, Charlie, I don't think that there is a deal to laugh at. Howsomever, we've got to do something soon."

"So, so," said Charlie, "notwidstanding."

"Well, I've been thinking that we should make tracks for the other side of the river. You see these savage rapscallions have no canoes, and they seem to have no food. They are not herons or storks, and can't wade through deep water."

"Foh true, sah. Dey am not stohks and dey am not herons notwidstanding, but see, sah, ebery man he am his own canoe! No stohks, but all same one frog, notwidstanding foh true!"

"And you think they would follow us?"

"All same's one eel--two hundred eel. Dey swim wid spears in mouf, and bow and arrow held high. Ha! ha! good soldier, ebery modder's son!"

"I'll tell you my plan," said Dick Temple. "Just loose off the boats, and make one bold dash for liberty."

"Ha! ha! sah!" cried Charlie. "I takes de liberty to laugh notwidstanding, foh true. You plenty much all dead men 'fore you get into de big ribber!"

"Well, hang it!" said Dick, "we're not going to stay here with the pretty prospect before us of being all scuppered and eaten. What say you, Roll?"

"I think," said Roland quietly, "that Charlie there has come prepared to speak, for his face is just beaming."

"See, sah," cried Charlie, evidently pleased, "you trust all to Charlie. He makee you free after dark. Down in de fo'est yondah dere am mebbe two, mebbee free hunder' sabages. Now dey not want to fight till de dark. Dey will fight all de same when de moon rise, and de rifle not muchee good. No hit in de dark, on'y jes' puff, puff.

"See," he continued, "de wind begin to blow a leetle. De wind get high byme by, den de sun go out, and Charlie he fiah de forest."

"Fire the forest, Charlie?"

"Notwidstanding," said Charlie grimly.

"When," he added, "you see de flame curl up, be all ready. Soon de flame he bus' highah and highah, and all by de ribber bank one big blaze."

"Charlie," cried Bill, "you're a brick! Give us a shake of your yellow hand. Hurrah! boys, Charlie's going to do it!"

Never perhaps was sunset waited for with more impatience.

The great and unanswerable question was this: Would these savages attack immediately after darkness fell, or would they take some time to deliberate?

But behind the rugged mountains down sank the sun at last, and after a brief twilight the stars shone out.

Charlie was not going alone. He had asked for the assistance of many Indians, and in a whisper he gave them their orders.

Our heroes did not interfere in any way, for fear of confusing the good fellow's plans. But they soon noted that while Charlie himself and two Indians left in one of the smallest canoes, the others disappeared like snakes in the grass, creeping northwards over the plain.

And now there was silence, for the wind was hushed; silence everywhere, that deep, indescribable silence which nightfall ever brings to a wild and savage land, in which even the beasts are still and listening in forest and dell, not knowing from which direction danger may spring.

Within the little camp nothing could be done but lie still, every man holding his breath with suspense. Nothing could be done save watch, wait, count the weary minutes, and marvel at their length.

Suddenly, however, the deep silence was broken by a mournful cry that came from riverwards. It was apparently that of an owl seeking for its mate, but it was taken up and repeated northwards all over the plain twixt camp and forest, and almost at the same time tiny tongues of fire sprang up here and there and everywhere.

Higher and higher they leapt, along the ground they ran, meeting in all directions down the dark river and across the wild moor by the edge of the woodland. The undergrowth was dry, the grass was withered, and in an amazingly short time the whole forest by the banks of the Madeira was sheeted in devastating flames.

The savages had been massed in the centre of the jungle, and just preparing to issue forth and carry death into the camp of our heroes, when suddenly the crackling of the flames fell on their ears, and they knew they were caught in a fire-trap, with scarcely any means of escape.

Charlie had been terribly in earnest, and, hurrying on in his canoe towards the Madeira, he lit the bank all along, and even down the side of the great stream itself.

It was evidently his savage intention to roast these poor cannibals alive.

As it was, the only outlet towards salvation that remained for them was the Madeira's dark brink.

"Now, boys, now!" shouted Roland, when he saw that the fire had gained entire mastery, and, making its own wind, was sweeping onwards, licking up everything in its way.

"Now, lads, on board! Let us get off down stream in all haste. Hurrah!"