CHAPTER XIX

A PRISONER

Hal had not time to consider this at all, for in a moment, it seemed, the natives had swarmed up from the clearing and surrounded him. And the native lying before the hut had gotten to his feet in an amazingly short time, producing a bow and arrow and looking as if he would use it on the slightest pretext.

Hal’s pet guardian, Big Boy, stepped up to his side at this juncture and pulling him by the arm urged him back toward the clearing. He did so, willing but puzzled, and as he turned his back toward the hut, the same cry of misery broke out, pleading and utterly pathetic.

Hal stopped, hesitated, as if he were going to go back, when he noticed that a number of the warriors were following him with bows and arrows drawn. Big Boy, too, marching at his side, had acquired an exceedingly pugnacious expression on his usually bland countenance.

Straight back to the _maloka_ they marched him, saw him safely to his apartment in the rear, then left Big Boy standing guard while they gathered in the front for a long and noisy conference.

Hal could make nothing out of the whole proceedings. He did not know what it was all about. Yet the uneasy thought recurred that it was not a promising sign to see naked savages following him about with drawn bows and arrows. They had not done so before. What did it mean now?

Had his presence before that strange hut incurred their enmity? And if so—why? Why should that wretched cry bring them swarming to his side and cause them to treat him as if he had committed some crime? Why?

Hal was to learn why, to his sorrow, and that the way of the Amazon Indian is indeed very strange.

In the meantime he was doing all in his power to get Big Boy in a spirit of good will. He coaxed and cajoled to find out why he was being guarded thus.

Big Boy, ever an admirer of Hal’s powerful physique and commanding grace, relaxed a little to motion that the warriors of the tribe were holding a pow-wow to ascertain what should be done about the incident before the hut.

“What about it?” Hal gestured with one of his sad-sweet smiles. “I have done nothing.” He shrugged his shoulders and put his hands over his heart to show that he was innocent of any wrongdoing.

Big Boy melted enough to wriggle his hands in a way that conveyed to Hal the information that the spirits were offended. His going along the trail to the hut and hearing those cries made him a thing of evil. And to the Indian, evil was a thing to be shunned.

Through Big Boy’s lucid mode of expression, Hal learned that a demented native occupied that hut, or rather he was incarcerated there as evidenced by the native guarding it. And a demented person, Big Boy explained by pounding his head vigorously, was unholy, evil. Thus the person upon whom this evil one cries also becomes evil.

“And so all you guys think I’m evil, huh?” Hal asked, gesticulating wildly and pounding his broad chest.

Big Boy nodded.

“What can they do about it?” Hal persisted, feeling not a little uneasy.

Big Boy shrugged his shoulders in answer and Hal could get nothing more out of him for quite a while. He went to sleep and slept for an hour. When he awakened, he saw that his wrist watch was being curiously inspected by the Indian.

“Like?” Hal motioned, sitting up.

Big Boy nodded, then, with a grave shake of the head, sat down alongside of Hal.

The tribe, Hal noticed, were all settled for the night in their apartments. No one but him and the Indian were awake at that moment. One could have heard the proverbial pin drop when Big Boy suddenly motioned to his bow and arrow.

For the next five minutes he enacted with pantomimical accuracy just what was going to take place in the settlement at dawn. He pointed first in the direction of the jungle hut, then he pointed toward the chief who was lying a few apartments distant, sound asleep. Big Boy mimicked that powerful personage by making a grave face and shaking a sagacious finger at Hal. Next he silently waved his arms, indicating all the sleeping warriors in the _maloka_, then pointed toward the heavens as a final gesture.

Hal comprehended it all, and he almost wished that he hadn’t, for it wasn’t terribly comforting news.

For his stroll through the jungle trail and the evil that the warriors believed had been visited upon the tribe through Hal, the sagacious chief had pronounced sentence on their white guest. That sentence condemned Hal to death at dawn—death by bow and arrow at the hands of the tribe’s picked warriors.

Hal shivered and glanced at his young captor a moment. The young man must have some liking for him, else why did he tell him all this? Could he use Big Boy’s liking and hero worship to his own advantage?

He tried, using all the wit and cunning that he could muster. Smiles, pleading looks, and even a cajoling shake of his captor’s shining shoulder which Hal followed up by thrusting his wrist watch under Big Boy’s nose. And that did the trick.

The Indian nodded his head, pleased, and sat as still as a mouse while Hal fastened the watch on his left wrist. When it was adjusted he indulged in a smile, moving his hand back and forth to see the glow of the radium-faced dial in the gloom of the _maloka_. He was like a child with a toy.

Hal waited long enough for him to enjoy it, then nudged him warningly. Time was fleeting, the fires were burning and every warrior was deep in sleep. From past observation he knew that such utter silence did not long reign in the _maloka_. He would have to act and act quickly.

Big Boy rose and motioned his captive to follow stealthily. Hal followed obediently, but never in his life did he seem to make more noise. The warriors, however, did not hear it, for no one stirred throughout the length of the _maloka_. Then they reached the door.

A full moon was coming up and Big Boy motioned Hal to walk close to the trees. He walked out in full view of the clearing, however, his dark shining body glistening with every stride. At intervals he stopped, listened intently, then pattered on toward the river.

They came out on the banks without incident, in the full light of the moon. The canoe was there—the canoe which the chief had decided was not to take the white young man back to civilization. But Big Boy had decided otherwise, and he motioned Hal to hurry, pushing the frail-looking craft well out into the stream.

Hal got in without a word or a sound. He turned, putting out his hand in gratitude to the young Indian lad who was saving his life, but was surprised to see that Big Boy had also clambered in the canoe and had taken up one of the paddles preparatory to departure.

He only nodded to Hal’s inquiring look and with a few rapid strokes put considerable distance between themselves and the settlement. Then he held up his hand on which the wrist watch was fastened, and shook his head darkly.

Hal understood and it made him feel mean. But Big Boy would not have it so. He smiled reassuringly to his white friend as if to tell him that it did not matter. He may have earned the eternal condemnation of the spirits and of his people by helping the evil-stricken white man to escape, but had he not gained a wrist watch and a friend? That was the gist of his violent gestures.

Hal shrugged his shoulders, but he was touched by Big Boy’s devotion. Truly, the way of the Amazon Indian was strange.