Two Were Found In A Wood Of
Strangely-Shaped Bushes, Whose Large, Tough Leaves Rustled Like
Parchment.
One afternoon a heavy rain came on, and we stopped to construct a
shelter of green branches, into which we crept.
The downpour became
so heavy that it dripped through our hastily-constructed arbor, and
we were soon soaking wet. Owing to the dampness of the fuel, it was
only after much patient work that we were able to light a fire and
dry our clothes. There we remained for three days, Timoteo sighing
for Pegwaomi, and the wind sighing still louder, to our discomfort.
Everything we had was saturated. Sleeping on the soaking ground, the
poisonous tarantula spiders crept over us. These loathsome creatures,
second only to the serpent, are frequently so large as to spread
their thick, hairy legs over a six-inch diameter.
The storm passed, and we started off towards the river Ipane, which
was now considerably swollen. Three times on the expedition we had
halted to build rough bridges over chasms or mountain streams with
perpendicular banks, but this was broad and had to be crossed through
the water. As I rode the largest and strongest horse, it was my place
to venture first into the rushing stream. The animal bravely stemmed
the current, as did the rest, but Old Stabbed Arm, riding a weaker
horse, nearly lost his life. The animal was washed down by the strong
current, and but for the man's previous long experience in swimming
rivers he would never have reached the bank. The pony also somehow
struggled through to the side, landing half-drowned, and Old Stabbed
Arm received a few hearty pats on the back. The load on the mare was
further soaked, but most of our possessions had been ruined long ago.
My cartridges I had slung around my neck, and I held the photographic
plates in my teeth, while the left hand carried my gun, so these were
preserved. To my care on that occasion the reader is indebted for
some of the illustrations in this volume. Nandeyara got another wash,
but he had been wet before, and never complained!
On the farther side of the river was a deserted house, and we could
distinctly trace the heavy footprints of a tapir leading up the path
and through the open doorway. We entered with caution. Was the beast
in then? No. He had gone out by a back way, probably made by himself,
through the wattled wall. We could see the place was frequented very
often by wild pigs, which had left hundreds of footprints in the
three-inch depth of dust on the floor. There we lit a fire to again
dry our clothes, and prepared to pass the night, expecting a visit
from the hogs. Had they appeared when we were ready for them, the
visit would not have been unwelcome. Food was hard to procure, and
animals did not come very often to be shot. Had they found us asleep,
however, the waking would have been terrible indeed, for they will
eat human flesh just as ravenously as roots.
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