CHAPTER XXII--EVENINGS BY THE CAMP FIRE

The moorings were speedily slipped, and by the light of the blazing forest the peons bent sturdily to their paddles, and the canoe went dancing down stream.

They had already taken on board the Indians who had assisted Charlie, and before long his own boat hove in sight, and was soon taken in tow by the largest canoe.

That burning forest formed a scene which never could be forgotten. From the south side, where the boats were speedily rushing down the stream on their way to the Madeira, and from which came the light wind that was now blowing, the flames leaned over as it were, instead of ascending high in air, and the smoke and sparks took the same direction.

The sparks were as thick as snow-flakes in a snow-storm, and the lurid tongues of fire darted high as the zenith, playing with the clouds of smoke or licking them up.

The noise was indescribable, yet above the roaring and the crackling could be heard the shouts of the maddened savages, as they sought exit from the hell around them.

There was no escape except by the Madeira's bank, and to get even at this they had to dash through the burning bushes.

Alas! Charlie and his assistants had done their work all too well, and I fear that one-half of the cannibals were smothered, dragged down by alligators, or found a watery grave.

As the canoes shot past, the heat was terrible, and next morning at daybreak, when they were far up the river, towards the falls, Roland and his friend were surprised to notice that the palm-leaves which covered the cabin were brown and scorched.

On the whole the experience they had gained of the ferocity and fighting abilities of these Paynee cannibals was such as they were not likely to forget.

----

During all this period of excitement the suspect Peter had remained perfectly quiescent. Indeed he seemed now quite apathetic, taking very little notice of anything around him, and eating the food placed before him in a way that was almost mechanical. Neither Roland nor Dick had taken much heed of him till now. When, however, they observed his strange demeanour they took council together and determined that the watch over him should be made extra strict, lest he should spring overboard and be drowned.

Roland may seem to have been harsh with Mr. Peter. But he only took proper precautions, and more than once he assured Dick that if the man's innocence were proved he would recompense him a hundred-fold.

"But," added Dick meaningly, "if he is really guilty of the terrible crime we impute to him, he cannot be punished too severely."

The expedition had that afternoon to land their stores once more to avoid rapids, and a little before sunset they encamped near to the edge of a beautiful wood well back from the banks of the Madeira.

The night passed without adventure of any kind, and everyone awoke as fresh and full of life and go as the larks that climb the sky to meet the morning sun.

Another hard day's paddling and towing and portage, and they found themselves high above the Madeira Falls in smooth water, and at the entrance to a kind of bay which formed the mouth or confluence of the two rivers, called Beni and Madro de Dios. This last is called the Maya-tata by the Bolivians.

It is a beautiful stream, overhung by hill and forest, and rises fully two hundred miles southward and west from a thousand little rivulets that drain the marvellous mountains of Karavaya.

The Beni joins this river about ten or twelve miles above the banks of the Madeira. It lies farther to the south and the east, and may be said to rise in the La Paz district itself, where it is called the Rio de la Paz.

To the north-west of both these big rivers lies the great unexplored region, the land of the Bolivian and Peruvian cannibals.

Small need have we to continue to hunt and shoot in Africa, wildly interesting though the country is, when such a marvellous tract of tens of thousands of square miles is hidden here, all unvisited as yet by a single British explorer.

And what splendid possibilities for travel and adventure are here! A land larger than Great Britain, France, and Ireland thrown together, which no one knows anything about; a land rich in forest and prairie; a land the mineral wealth of which is virtually inexhaustible; a land of beauty; a land of lake and stream, of hills and rocks and verdant prairie, and a veritable land of flowers!

A land, it is true, where wild beasts lurk and prowl, and where unknown tribes of savages wander hither and thither and hunt and fight, but all as free as the wind that wantons through their forest trees.

----

The boats were paddled several miles up-stream to a place where the scenery was more open.

At every bend and reach of the river Roland expected to find Benee waiting for them. Perhaps he had built a hut and was living by fishing-rod and gun.

But no Benee was visible and no hut.

Together the two friends, Roland and Dick, accompanied by Charlie and Brawn, took their way across the plain and through the scrub, towards a lofty, cone-shaped hill that seemed to dominate all the scenery in its immediate neighbourhood.

To the very top of this mountain they climbed, agreed between themselves not to look back until they had reached the summit, in order that the wild beauty of this lone lorn land should burst upon them in all its glory, and at once.

They kept to their resolution, and were amply rewarded.

As far as eye could reach in any direction was a vast panorama of mountain, forest, and stream, with many a beautiful lake glittering silvery in the sunshine.

But no smoke, no indication of inhabitants anywhere.

"It seems to be quite an untenanted country we have struck," said Dick.

"All the better for us, perhaps, Dick," said Roland, "for farther we cannot proceed until poor Benee comes. He ought to have been here before now. But what adventures and dangers he may have had to pass through Heaven and himself only know."

"Charlie," he continued, "in the event of Benee not turning up within the next week or two, remember the task of guiding us to the very palace gates of the cannibal king devolves upon you."

"You speakee me too muchee fly-high Englese," said Charlie. "But Charlie he thinkee he understand. You wantee me takee you to de king's gate. I can do."

"That is enough, Charlie, and we can trust you. You have hitherto been very faithful, and what we should do without you I know not."

"Now, Dick, I guess we'll get down a little more speedily than we came up."

"We'll try, Roland, old man."

All preparations were now made to camp near to the river, where the canoes were moored.

They did not expect any attack by armed Indians, nevertheless it was deemed well to be on the safe side.

Spades and shovels were accordingly brought into use, and even before sunset a deep trench and embankment were thrown up around the tents, and at nightfall sentries were posted at each corner.

For a few days the weather was so cold and stormy that there was little comfort in either shooting or fishing. It cleared up after this, however, and at noon the sun was almost too hot.

They found caves in the rocks by the river-side in which were springs bursting and bubbling up through limestone rocks, and quartz as white as the driven snow. The water was exquisitely cool and refreshing.

The days were spent in exploring the country all around and in shooting, principally for the purpose of keeping the larder well supplied.

Luckily the Indians were very easy to please in the matter of food, though their captains liked a little more luxury.

But this land was full of game of every sort, and the river was alive with fish, and so unsophisticated were these that they sprang at a hook if it were baited only with a morsel of glittering mica picked off a rock.

What with fish and fowl and flesh of small deer, little wild pigs and the young of the tapir, there would be very little fear of starvation should they remain here for a hundred years.

Far up the Maya-tata canoe excursions were made, and at every bend of this strange river the scenery seemed more delightfully wild, silent, and beautiful.

"Heigh-ho!" said Dick one day. "I think I should not mind living here for years and years, did I but know that poor Peggy was safe and well."

"Ah! yes, that is the ever-abiding anxiety, but we are not to lose heart, are we?"

"No," said Dick emphatically. "If the worst should come to the worst, let us try to look fate fearlessly in the face, as men should."

"Bravo, Dick!"

The evenings closed in at an unconscionably early hour, as they always do in these regions, and at times the long forenights were somewhat irksome.

I have not said much about the captains of the great canoes. With one exception, these were half-castes, and spoke but little.

The exception was Don Rodrigo, who in his time had been a great traveller.

He was a man of about fifty, strongly built, but as wiry withal as an Arab of the desert.

Genial was he too, and while yarning or playing cards--the cigarette for ever in his mouth, sometimes even two--there was always a pleasant smile playing around his mouth and eyes.

He liked our young heroes, and they trusted him. Indeed, Brawn had taken to the man, and often as he squatted in the large tent of an evening, playing cards or dominoes with the boys, big Brawn would lay his honest head down on Rodrigo's knee with a sigh of satisfaction and go off to sleep.

Rodrigo could sing a good Spanish song, and had a sweet melodious voice that would have gone excellently well with a guitar accompaniment; but guitar there was none.

Versatile and clever, nevertheless, was Rodrigo, and he had manufactured a kind of musical instrument composed of pieces of glass and hard wood hung on tape bands across a board. While he sang, Rodrigo used to beat a charming accompaniment with little pith hammers.

Some of his songs were very merry indeed and very droll, and all hands used to join in the chorus, even the white men and Indians outside.

So the boys' days were for the time being somewhat of the nature of a long picnic or holiday.

The story-telling of an evening helped greatly to wile the time away.

Neither Dick nor Roland had any yarns to spin, but Charlie had stories of his wild and adventurous life in the bush, which were listened to with much pleasure. On the other hand, Rodrigo had been everywhere apparently, and done everything, so that he was the chief story-teller.

The man's English was fairly good, with just a little of the Peruvian labial accent, which really added to its attractiveness, while at times he affected the Mexican drawl.

Around the camp-fire I have seldom or never known what may be called systematic yarn-spinning. Everything comes spontaneously, one simple yarn or wild adventure leading up to the other. If now and then a song intervenes, all the better, and all the more likely is one to spend a pleasant evening either in camp or in galley on board ship.

Don Rodrigo did at times let our heroes have some tales that made their scalps creep, but they liked him best when he was giving them simple narratives of travel, and for this reason: they wanted to learn all they could about the country in which they now were.

And Rodrigo knew it well, even from Arauco on the western shore to the great marsh-lands of the Paraguay or the mountain fastnesses of Albuquerque on the east.

But the range of Rodrigo's travels was not bounded by Brazil, or the great Pacific Ocean itself. He had been a cow-boy in Mexico; he had bolo'd guanacos on the Pampas; he had wandered among the Patagonians, or on fleet horses scoured their wondrous plains; he had dwelt in the cities, or call them "towns", if so minded, that border the northern shores of the Straits of Magellan; he had even visited Tierra del Fuego--the land of fire--and from the black boats of savages had helped to spear the silken-coated otters of those wild and stormy seas; and he had sailed for years among the glorious sunlit islands of the Southern Pacific.

"As to far Bolivia," he said one evening, while his eyes followed the rings of pale-blue smoke he emitted as they rose to the tent-roof. "As to far Bolivia, dear boys, well, you've seen a good slice of the wilder regions of it, but it is to La Paz you must some day go, and to the splendid fresh-water ocean called the Titicaca.

"Lads, I never measured it, but, roughly guessing, I should say that it is over one hundred miles in length, and in some places fifty wide."

"Wait one moment," said Burly Bill, "this is getting interesting, but my meerschaum wants to be loaded."

"Now," he added, a few minutes after, "just fire away, my friend."