Part 2

“Why not?” persisted Ken. “Is there any law here to prevent our going into the jungle?”

“There’s no law. No one could stop you. But, my lad, what’s the sense of taking such a fool trip? The river here is full of tarpon right now. There are millions of ducks and geese on the lagoons. You can shoot deer and wild turkey right on the edge of town. If you want tiger and javelin, go out to one of the ranches where they have dogs to hunt with, where you’ll have a chance for your life. These tigers and boars will kill a man. There’s all the sport any one wants right close to Tampico.”

“I don’t see how all that makes a reason why we shouldn’t come down the Santa Rosa,” replied Ken. “We want to explore--map the river.”

The hotel man seemed nettled in return.

“You’re only kids. It ’d be crazy to start out on that wild trip.”

It was on Ken’s lips to mention a few of the adventures which he believed justly gave him a right to have pride and confidence in his ability. But he forbore.

“It’s a fool trip,” continued the proprietor. “You don’t know this river. You don’t know where you’ll come out. It’s wild up in that jungle. I’ve hunted up at Valles, and no native I ever met would go a mile from the village. If you take a mozo he’ll get soaked with canya. He’ll stick a knife in you or run off and leave you when you most need help. Nobody ever explored that river. It’ll likely be full of swamps, sandbars, bogs. You’d get fever. Then the crocodiles, the boars, the bats, the snakes, the tigers! Why, if you could face these you’d still have the ticks--the worst of all. The ticks would drive men crazy, let alone boys. It’s no undertaking for a boy.”

The mention of all these dangers would have tipped the balance for Ken in favor of the Santa Rosa trip, even if the hint of his callowness had not roused his spirit.

“Thank you. I’m sure you mean kindly,” said Ken. “But I’m going to Valles and I’ll come down that jungle river.”

*III*

*AN INDIAN BOATMAN*

The moment the decision was made Ken felt both sorry and glad. He got the excited boys outside away from the critical and anxious proprietor. And Ken decided it was incumbent upon him to adopt a serious and responsible manner, which he was far from feeling. So he tried to be as cool as Hiram Bent, with a fatherly interest in the two wild boys who were to accompany him down the Santa Rosa.

“Now, George, steer us around till we find a mozo,” said Ken. “Then we’ll buy an outfit and get started on this trip before you can say Jack Robinson.”

All the mozos the boys interviewed were eager to get work; however, when made acquainted with the nature of the trip they refused point blank.

“Tigre!” exclaimed one.

“Javelin!” exclaimed another.

The big spotted jaguar of the jungle and the wild boar, or peccary, were held in much dread by the natives.

“These natives will climb a tree at sight of a tiger or pig,” said George. “For my part I’m afraid of the garrapatoes and the pinilius.”

“What ’re they?” asked Hal.

“Ticks--jungle ticks. Just wait till you make their acquaintance.”

Finally the boys met a _mozo_ named Pepe, who had often rowed a boat for George. Pepe looked sadly in need of a job; still he did not ask for it. George said that Pepe had been one of the best boatmen on the river until _canya_, the fiery white liquor to which the natives were addicted, had ruined his reputation. Pepe wore an old sombrero, a cotton, shirt and sash, and ragged trousers. He was barefooted. Ken noted the set of his muscular neck, his brawny shoulders and arms, and appreciated the years of rowing that had developed them. But Pepe’s haggard face, deadened eyes, and listless manner gave Ken pause. Still, Ken reflected, there was never any telling what a man might do, if approached right. Pepe’s dejection excited Ken’s sympathy. So Ken clapped him on the shoulder, and, with George acting as interpreter, offered Pepe work for several weeks at three pesos a day. That was more than treble the _mozo’s_ wage. Pepe nearly fell off the canal bridge, where he was sitting, and a light as warm and bright as sunshine flashed into his face.

“Si, Señor--Si, Señor,” he began to jabber, and waved his brown hands.

Ken suspected that Pepe needed a job and a little kind treatment. He was sure of it when George said Pepe’s wife and children were in want. Somehow Ken conceived a liking for Pepe, and believed he could trust him. He thought he knew how to deal with poor Pepe. So he gave him money, told him to get a change of clothes and a pair of shoes, and come to the hotel next day.

“He’ll spend the money for canya, and not show up to-morrow,” said George.

“I don’t know anything about your natives, but that fellow will come,” declared Ken.

It appeared that the whole American colony in Tampico had been acquainted with Ken Ward’s project, and made a business to waylay the boys at each corner. They called the trip a wild-goose chase. They declared it was a dime-novel idea, and could hardly take Ken seriously. They mingled astonishment with amusement and concern. They advised Ken not to go, and declared they would not let him go. Over and over again the boys were assured of the peril from ticks, bats, boars, crocodiles, snakes, tigers, and fevers.

“That’s what I’m taking the trip for,” snapped Ken, driven to desperation by all this nagging.

“Well, young man, I admire your nerve,” concluded the hotel man. “If you’re determined to go, we can’t stop you. And there’s some things we would like you to find out for us. How far do tarpon run up the Panuco River? Do they spawn up there? How big are the new-born fish? I’ll furnish you with tackle and preserved mullet, for bait. We’ve always wondered about how far tarpon go up into fresh water. Keep your eye open for signs of oil. Also look at the timber. And be sure to make a map of the river.”

When it came to getting the boat shipped the boys met with more obstacles. But for the friendly offices of a Texan, an employee of the railroad, they would never have been able to convince the native shipping agent that a boat was merchandise. The Texan arranged the matter and got Ken a freight bill. He took an entirely different view of Ken’s enterprise, compared with that of other Americans, and in a cool, drawling voice, which somehow reminded Ken of Jim Williams, he said:

“Shore you-all will have the time of your lives. I worked at Valles for a year. That jungle is full of game. I killed three big tigers. You-all want to look out for those big yellow devils. One in every three will jump for a man. There’s nothing but shoot, then. And the wild pigs are bad. They put me up a tree more than once. I don’t know much about the Santa Rosa. Its source is above Micas Falls. Never heard where it goes. I know it’s full of crocodiles and rapids. Never saw a boat or a canoe at Valles. And say--there are big black snakes in the jungle. Look out for them, too. Shore you-all have sport a-comin’.”

Ken thanked the Texan, and as he went on up-street, for all his sober thoughtfulness, he was as eager as Hal or George. However, his position as their guardian would not permit any show of extravagant enthusiasm.

Ken bought blankets, cooking utensils, and supplies for three weeks. There was not such a thing as a tent in Tampico. The best the boys could get for a shelter was a long strip of canvas nine feet wide.

“That’ll keep off the wet,” said Ken, “but it won’t keep out the mosquitoes and things.”

“Couldn’t keep ’em out if we had six tents,” replied George.

The remainder of that day the boys were busy packing the outfit.

Pepe presented himself at the hotel next morning an entirely different person. He was clean-shaven, and no longer disheveled. He wore a new sombrero, a white cotton shirt, a red sash, and blue trousers. He earned a small bundle, a pair of shoes, and a long _machete_. The dignity with which he approached before all the other _mozos_ was not lost upon Ken Ward. A sharp scrutiny satisfied him that Pepe had not been drinking. Ken gave him several errands to do. Then he ordered the outfit taken to the station in Pepe’s charge.

The boys went down early in the afternoon. It was the time when the _mozos_ were returning from the day’s tarpon-fishing on the river, and they, with the _cargodores_, streamed to and fro on the platform. Pepe was there standing guard over Ken’s outfit. He had lost his fame among his old associates, and for long had been an outsider. Here he was in charge of a pile of fine guns, fishing-tackle, baggage, and supplies--a collection representing a fortune to him and his simple class. He had been trusted with it. It was under his eye. All his old associates passed by to see him there. That was a great time for Pepe. He looked bright, alert, and supremely happy. It would have fared ill with thieves or loafers who would have made themselves free with any of the articles under his watchful eye.

The train pulled out of Tampico at five o’clock, and Hal’s “We’re off!” was expressive.

The railroad lay along the river-bank, and the broad Panuco was rippling with the incoming tide. If Ken and Hal had not already found George to be invaluable as a companion in this strange country they would have discovered it then. For George could translate Pepe’s talk, and explain much that otherwise would have been dark to the brothers. Wild ducks dotted the green surface, and spurts showed where playful _ravalo_ were breaking water. Great green-backed tarpon rolled their silver sides against the little waves. White cranes and blue herons stood like statues upon the reedy bars. Low down over the opposite bank of the river a long line of wild geese winged its way toward a shimmering lagoon. And against the gold and crimson of the sunset sky a flight of wild fowl stood out in bold black relief. The train crossed the Tamesi River and began to draw away from the Panuco. On the right, wide marshes, gleaming purple in the darkening light, led the eye far beyond to endless pale lagoons. Birds of many kinds skimmed the weedy flats. George pointed out a flock of aigrets, the beautiful wild fowl with the priceless plumes. Then there was a string of pink flamingoes, tall, grotesque, wading along with waddling stride, feeding with heads under water.

“Great!” exclaimed Ken Ward.

“It’s all so different from Arizona,” said Hal.

At Tamos, twelve miles out of Tampico, the train entered the jungle. Thereafter the boys could see nothing but the impenetrable green walls that lined the track. At dusk the train reached a station called Las Palmas, and then began to ascend the first step of the mountain. The ascent was steep, and, when it was accomplished, Ken looked down and decided that step of the mountain was between two and three thousand feet high. The moon was in its first quarter, and Ken, studying this tropical moon, found it large, radiant, and a wonderful green-gold. It shed a soft luminous glow down upon the sleeping, tangled web of jungle. It was new and strange to Ken, so vastly different from barren desert or iron-ribbed cañon, and it thrilled him with nameless charm.

The train once more entered jungle walls, and as the boys could not see anything out of the windows they lay back in their seats and waited for the ride to end. They were due at Valles at ten o’clock, and the impatient Hal complained that they would never get there. At length a sharp whistle from the engine caused Pepe to turn to the boys with a smile.

“Valles,” he said.

With rattle and clank the train came to a halt. Ken sent George and Pepe out, and he and Hal hurriedly handed the luggage through the open window. When the last piece had been passed into Pepe’s big hands the boys made a rush for the door, and jumped off as the train started.

“Say, but it’s dark,” said Hal.

As the train with its lights passed out of sight Ken found himself in what seemed a pitchy blackness. He could not see the boys. And he felt a little cold sinking of his heart at the thought of such black nights on an unknown jungle river.

*IV*

*AT THE JUNGLE RIVER*

Presently, as Ken’s eyes became accustomed to the change, the darkness gave place to pale moonlight. A crowd of chattering natives, with wide sombreros on their heads and blankets over their shoulders, moved round the little stone station. Visitors were rare in Valles, as was manifested by the curiosity aroused by the boys and the pile of luggage.

“Ask Pepe to find some kind of lodging for the night,” said Ken to George.

Pepe began to question the natives, and soon was lost in the crowd. Awhile after, as Ken was making up his mind they might have to camp on the station platform, a queer low ’bus drawn by six little mules creaked up. Pepe jumped off the seat beside the driver, and began to stow the luggage away in the ’bus. Then the boys piled in behind, and were soon bowling along a white moonlit road. The soft voices of natives greeted their passing.

Valles appeared to be about a mile from the station, and as they entered the village Ken made out rows of thatched huts, and here and there a more pretentious habitation of stone. At length the driver halted before a rambling house, partly stone and partly thatch. There were no lights; in fact, Ken did not see a light in the village. George told the boys to take what luggage each could carry and follow the guide. Inside the house it was as dark as a dungeon. The boys bumped into things and fell over each other trying to keep close to the barefooted and mysterious guide. Finally they climbed to a kind of loft, where the moonlight streamed in at the open sides.

“What do you think of this?” panted Hal, who had struggled with a heavy load of luggage. Pepe and the guide went down to fetch up the remainder of the outfit. Ken thought it best to stand still until he knew just where he was. But Hal and George began moving about in the loft. It was very large and gloomy, and seemed open, yet full of objects. Hal jostled into something which creaked and fell with a crash. Then followed a yell, a jabbering of a frightened native, and a scuffling about.

“Hal, what ’d you do?” called Ken, severely.

“You can search me,” replied Hal Ward. “One thing--I busted my shin.”

“He knocked over a bed with some one sleeping in it,” said George.

Pepe arrived in the loft then and soon soothed the injured feelings of the native who had been so rudely disturbed. He then led the boys to their cots, which were no more than heavy strips of canvas stretched over tall frameworks. They appeared to be enormously high for beds. Ken’s was as high as his head, and Ken was tall for his age.

“Say, I’ll never get up into this thing,” burst out Hal. “These people must be afraid to sleep near the floor. George, why are these cots so high?”

“I reckon to keep the pigs and dogs and all that from sleeping with the natives,” answered George. “Besides, the higher you sleep in Mexico the farther you get from creeping, crawling things.”

Ken had been of half a mind to sleep on the floor, but George’s remark had persuaded him to risk the lofty cot. It was most awkward to climb into. Ken tried several times without success, and once he just escaped a fall. By dint of muscle and a good vault he finally landed in the center of his canvas. From there he listened to his more unfortunate comrades. Pepe got into his without much difficulty. George, however, in climbing up, on about the fifth attempt swung over too hard and rolled off on the other side. The thump he made when he dropped jarred the whole loft. From the various growls out of the darkness it developed that the loft was full of sleepers, who were not pleased at this invasion. Then Hal’s cot collapsed, and went down with a crash. And Hal sat on the flattened thing and laughed.

“Mucho malo,” Pepe said, and he laughed, too. Then he had to get out and put up Hal’s trestle bed. Hal once again went to climbing up the framework, and this time, with Pepe’s aid, managed to surmount it.

“George, what does Pepe mean by _mucho malo_?” asked Hal.

“Bad--very much bad,” replied George.

“Nix--tell him nix. This is fine,” said Hal.

“Boys, if you don’t want to sleep yourselves, shut up so the rest of us can,” ordered Ken.

He liked the sense of humor and the good fighting spirit of the boys, and fancied they were the best attributes in comrades on a wild trip. For a long time he heard a kind of shuddering sound, which he imagined was Hal’s cot quivering as the boy laughed. Then absolute quiet prevailed, the boys slept, and Ken felt himself drifting.

When he awakened the sun was shining through the holes in the thatched roof. Pepe was up, and the other native sleepers were gone. Ken and the boys descended from their perches without any tumbles, had a breakfast that was palatable--although even George could not name what they ate--and then were ready for the day.

Valles consisted of a few stone houses and many thatched huts of bamboo and palm. There was only one street, and it was full of pigs, dogs, and buzzards. The inhabitants manifested a kindly interest and curiosity, which changed to consternation when they learned of the boys’ project. Pepe questioned many natives, and all he could learn about the Santa Rosa was that there was an impassable waterfall some few kilometers below Valles. Ken gritted his teeth and said they would have to get past it. Pepe did not encounter a man who had ever heard of the headwaters of the Panuco River. There were only a few fields under cultivation around Valles, and they were inclosed by impenetrable jungle. It seemed useless to try to find out anything about the river. But Pepe’s advisers in the village told enough about _tigre_ and _javelin_ to make Hal’s hair stand on end, and George turn pale, and Ken himself wish they had not come. It all gave Ken both a thrill and a shock.

There was not much conversation among the boys on the drive back to the station. However, sight of the boat, which had come by freight, stirred Ken with renewed spirit, and through him that was communicated to the others.

The hardest task, so far, developed in the matter of transporting boat and supplies out to the river. Ken had hoped to get a handcar and haul the outfit on the track down to where the bridge crossed the Santa Rosa. But there was no hand-car. Then came the staggering information that there was no wagon which would carry the boat, and then worse still in the fact that there was no road. This discouraged Ken; nevertheless he had not the least idea of giving up. He sent Pepe out to tell the natives there must be some way to get the outfit to the river.

Finally Pepe found a fellow who had a cart. This fellow claimed he knew a trail that went to a point from which it would be easy to carry the boat to the river. Ken had Pepe hire the man at once.

“Bring on your old cart,” said the irrepressible Hal.

That cart turned out to be a remarkable vehicle. It consisted of a narrow body between enormously high wheels. A trio of little mules was hitched to it. The driver willingly agreed to haul the boat and outfit for one _peso_, but when he drove up to the platform to be surrounded by neighbors, he suddenly discovered that he could not possibly accommodate the boys. Patiently Pepe tried to persuade him. No, the thing was impossible. He made no excuses, but he looked mysterious.

“George, tell Pepe to offer him five pesos,” said Ken.

Pepe came out bluntly with the inducement, and the driver began to sweat. From the look of his eyes Ken fancied he had not earned so much money in a year. Still he was cunning, and his whispering neighbors lent him support. He had the only cart in the village, and evidently it seemed that fortune had come to knock at least once at his door. He shook his head.

Ken held up both hands with fingers spread. “Ten pesos,” he said.

The driver, like a crazy man, began to jabber his consent.

The boys lifted the boat upon the cart, and tied it fast in front so that the stern would not sag. Then they packed the rest of the outfit inside.

Ken was surprised to see how easily the little mules trotted off with such a big load. At the edge of the jungle he looked back toward the station. The motley crowd of natives were watching, making excited gestures, and all talking at once. The driver drove into a narrow trail, which closed behind him. Pepe led on foot, brushing aside the thick foliage. Ken drew a breath of relief as he passed into the cool shade. The sun was very hot. Hal and George brought up the rear, talking fast.

The trail was lined and overgrown with slender trees, standing very close, making dense shade. Many birds, some of beautiful coloring, flitted in the branches. In about an hour the driver entered a little clearing where there were several thatched huts. Ken heard the puffing of an engine, and, looking through the trees, he saw the railroad and knew they had arrived at the pumping-station and the bridge over the Santa Rosa.

Pepe lost no time in rounding up six natives to carry the boat. They did not seem anxious to oblige Pepe, although they plainly wanted the money he offered. The trouble was the boat, at which they looked askance. As in the case with the driver, however, the weight and clinking of added silver overcame their reluctance. They easily lifted the boat upon their shoulders. And as they entered the trail, making a strange procession in the close-bordering foliage, they encountered two natives, who jumped and ran, yelling: “La diable! La diable!”

“What ails those gazabos?” asked Hal.

“They’re scared,” replied George. “They thought the boat was the devil.”

If Ken needed any more than had already come to him about the wildness of the Santa Rosa, he had it in the frightened cries and bewilderment of these natives. They had never seen a boat. The Santa Rosa was a beautiful wild river upon which boats were unknown. Ken had not hoped for so much. And now that the die was cast he faced the trip with tingling gladness.

“George and Hal, you stay behind to watch the outfit. Pepe and I will carry what we can and follow the boat. I’ll send back after you,” said Ken.

Then as he followed Pepe and the natives down the trail there was a deep satisfaction within him. He heard the soft rush of water over stones and the mourning of turtledoves. He rounded a little hill to come abruptly upon the dense green mass of river foliage. Giant cypress-trees, bearded with gray moss, fringed the banks. Through the dark green of leaves Ken caught sight of light-green water. Birds rose all about him. There were rustlings in the thick underbrush and the whir of ducks. The natives penetrated the dark shade and came out to an open, grassy point.

The Santa Rosa, glistening, green, swift, murmured at Ken’s feet. The natives dropped the boat into the water, and with Pepe went back for the rest of the outfit. Ken looked up the shady lane of the river and thought of the moment when he had crossed the bridge in the train. Then, as much as he had longed to be there, he had not dared to hope it. And here he was! How strange it was, just then, to see a large black duck with white-crested wings sweep by as swift as the wind! Ken had seen that wild fowl, or one of his kind, and it had haunted him.

*V*

*THE FIRST CAMP*

In less than an hour all the outfit had been carried down to the river, and the boys sat in the shade, cooling off, happily conscious that they had made an auspicious start.

It took Ken only a moment to decide to make camp there and the next day try to reach Micas Falls. The mountains appeared close at hand, and were so lofty that, early in the afternoon as it was, the westering sun hung over the blue summits. The notch where the Santa Rosa cut through the range stood out clear, and at most it was not more than eighteen miles distant. So Ken planned to spend a day pulling up the river, and then to turn for the down-stream trip.

“Come, boys, let’s make camp,” said Ken.