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Through Forest and Stream: The Quest of the Quetzal, a fiction by George Manville Fenn |
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Chapter 11. We Lose The Axe |
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_ CHAPTER ELEVEN. WE LOSE THE AXE "Well, you can't help liking the place, Master Nat," said Pete the next morning, as we prepared the breakfast, "even if you do have to sleep on the sand with a nubbly stone under your back. Look at it; makes me feel as if I should like to be a savage Indian chief, and always live here shooting and fishing." "It is lovely," I said, as I gazed around at the glorious scene. "Why, you could get more birds here than you'll ever want. I think we ought to stay here instead of going away." "We're only going to fetch up more stores and the tent, Pete. We must bring an axe, too, and make a shed." "Then we're coming back?" "Yes." "Oh, that's all right, then, Master Nat. I did think it a pity to run away again as soon as we'd found this place." The sun was only just up when after a good breakfast we started to find our way back to the entrance of the cave where we had set off upon our dark journey; and, taking a course which he had marked out from the high ground, my uncle led the way so well that by afternoon we struck the stream again, not by the mouth of the cavern, but miles below it, so that as soon as we could find a way down to its bank we retraced our way, and reached the anchored and well-moored boat long before dark. Our task now was simple. The loads we were to take up the mountain-gorge were prepared, and next morning, heavily laden, we started with the intention of staying in the neighbourhood of the upper river for a week certain. It was a hard task, laden as we were, but we managed to reach the camping-place with our heavy loads just at nightfall, one and all completely done up, and content to eat a morsel of food before lying down to sleep at once. "It's very fortunate for us that the country is quite uninhabited," I remember thinking, as I lay down and revelled in the restful sensation afforded by the soft dry sand, part of a heap which had crumbled from the side of the ravine in the course of ages. I remember no more till I was awakened by Pete, who announced breakfast, and I stared confusedly in the light of the early dawn at the bright fire, and wondered where I was. That morning the tent was set up, and a rough shed was cleverly made by Cross, who seemed to glory in showing us how easily he could contrive a good shelter in case we should be overtaken by a tropical storm. He selected a spot where the rock was out of the perpendicular, hanging over to some extent, and here he soon had four young straight trees set up, held in place by cross-pieces. Then rafters of bamboo were bound in position with the strong creepers which abounded, and this done, he began thatching, first with green boughs, then with a layer of palm-like leaves, which he made to overlap, and a strong reedy grass, that grew abundantly in a low moist place by the river, was bound on in bundles for a finish. "Capital," said my uncle; "but too much like stopping for months, when it is hardly likely we shall stay two weeks." "May as well be comfortable, sir, while we are here," said Cross, smiling. "Keep the sun off, if we don't have rain." That night we had everything shipshape, and retired early to rest, to enjoy a delicious sleep, which only seemed to last ten minutes before I opened my eyes to find it was morning once more, and I lay wondering what it was that Cross had lost, for it seemed to me in my half-wakeful state that I heard him say: "Well, no more bones about it; you had it last, and you must find it." I could not speak till I had made an effort and sat up, and then I was wakeful enough for the words to come. "What have you lost?" I asked. "My axe, sir, and I can't get along without that. It's a whole bag of tools to me. Pete had it last thing to chop some wood, and he says he laid it down inside the hut; but it aren't here now, and he's got to find it." "I can't find it, Master Nat," said Pete dolefully; "he must have took it away and laid it somewhere else himself. Seems such a pity, it do." "What, to take the axe?" I said. "Nay--I meant to have a bother about that, and spoiling the holiday. I know the best way to find a thing like that," he added triumphantly. "How?" I asked. "Don't look for it, and then you're sure to find it when you least expect." But the axe was not found then, and it was soon forgotten, for we were too busy searching the sides of the wonderful gorge, going day after day for miles on one side exploring the nooks and crannies, and another day wading across the river to explore the other side. But though we discovered and shot numbers of the most beautiful birds, many of them quite new to both, we saw no sign of those we sought, and at last my uncle had decided that we must move a few miles higher, when a discovery was made which sent a thrill of hopefulness through us, and we began exploring and shooting more eagerly than ever, devoting each morning to the task and the evenings to skinning and preserving, till our selection of beautiful skins began to grow to an extent far greater than we had intended. Meanwhile we had been living a gloriously free and happy life; expeditions had been made twice to the boat for more necessaries, which were supplemented by an abundant supply of birds and fishes, the upper waters being so full of the latter that it was an easy task of a morning for Pete and me to catch enough for a meal. But we had a few unpleasant experiences. Twice over we found that rattlesnakes had been attracted by the fire and had taken possession of quarters in our tent, for which, as they viciously showed fight, they were condemned to death and executed. One morning, too, on waking, I caught sight of peculiar marks on the loose dry sand, a smooth deep furrow having been made, to which I drew my uncle's attention. "We ought to hunt out the creature which made that, Nat," said my uncle. "Rather an unpleasant neighbour to have. Why, the fellow that marked that trail must be a good eighteen feet long." It, too, suffered for its temerity, for it came again, and was seen by Pete on awaking in the morning, when he cautiously drew my attention to the monster's presence near the fire. The next minute a couple of shots from my double gun rang out, and the huge serpent was writhing and twining among the bushes, and beating them flat by blows from its powerful tail. Cross skinned it when it was dead, saying that he must have it for a curiosity if we did not, and probably it stretched a little in the process, for it proved to be a python, twenty feet in length and enormously thick. It was the very next day when we were about to move, the visit of the python and the possibility of one from its mate having decided our immediate change, after a final tramp round in search of the birds we wanted. But we had no more luck than usual. We could have shot plenty of specimens, but not those we sought, and we were nearing our camp when all at once what I took to be a pigeon dashed out of a tree, and meaning it for a roast, my gun flew to my shoulder, I fired hastily, and the bird fell. "Uncle!" I cried, as I picked it out dead from among a clump of ferns. "A quetzal!" shouted my uncle excitedly, for it was a scarlet-breasted bird, with back and wing, coverts of a glorious golden-green. "But you said that they had tails three or four feet long." "Yes," said my uncle; "the kind I want to find have, while this is only short; but here is proof that we are working in the right direction." "Then we must stop here, uncle," I cried. "Yes, Nat, it would be madness to leave. We must wait till the right ones come." That bird's wonderfully oily and tender skin was carefully stripped off in the evening, and it had a drying box all to itself, one made expressly by Cross, who confided to me that it was the finest bird he had ever seen. "Some of they humming-birds is handsome enough," he said, "but there's nothing of 'em. This one's grand. Now, if I could only find that there chopper as Pete lost--" "Didn't lose it," growled Pete. "--I should be," continued the carpenter, severely, "a happy man. Aren't you, sir?" "No," I said; "nor shall be till I shoot some with tails three feet long." The finding of this specimen completely, as I have said, changed our plans. "It would be folly to go away now, Nat," repeated my uncle, "for at any moment we may find quite a flock." This was one afternoon, when we had returned after an unsuccessful hunt, to take out our treasure and gloat over its wonderful plumage. "Yes," I said; "but it's very tiresome, all this failure. Perhaps this is the only one for hundreds of miles." "Nonsense!" cried my uncle. "I daresay, if the truth were known, we pass scores of them every day, sitting after the fashion of these trogons, perfectly still like a ball of feathers, watching us, and with their green plumage so like that of the leaves that we might go by hundreds of times and not see them." "Oh!" I cried, "we could not pass one of them. The sun would make those beautiful golden-green wing coverts flash again." "In the sunshine, my boy, but they rest in the deep shade. We shall come upon them yet, and find out their habits. Then all will be easy. Anyone searching for birds of paradise in New Guinea might go scores of times without success, and come away and say there are none. Just as it is in Australia: at one time of year flocks of the great white and sulphur cockatoos can be found; at another time you may search the same district for months and not see one." "Yes, uncle," I said wearily, for I was tired after a long walk in the hot sun pestered by flies; "and I suppose there are plenty of birds about here that we have not seen. Why, of course, we haven't seen Pete's wonderful specimen yet." "No," said my uncle drily, "and I shall be very much surprised if we ever do." "Do you think there is nothing of the kind, then?" I said. "I don't like to be positive, but I should say that he made that bird out of his own head." "Oh, I don't think so, uncle," I replied; "Pete's very honest and straightforward." "Yes, but he lets his brain run riot, Nat. He saw some bird, I do not doubt, but not clothed and ornamented as he says." "There are birds with brightly-coloured tails such as he said?" "Are there?" said my uncle drily. "I think not. If there be I should like a specimen; it would be an exciting display for the learned bird-lovers in London to gaze at. Don't you see, my boy, he furnished the specimen he saw with the tail plumage of three different varieties of the macaw--the green the blue, and the red. Pete's eyes played tricks with him that time. I wish he would see the long floating feathers of a quetzal flashing its green and gold and purple in the sunshine." "So do I, uncle," I replied. "I wish we could find and shoot dozens of them, but I don't long for the task of skinning them; they are so delicate and likely to tear." "Like all the birds related to the cuckoos," said my uncle; "but we were very successful over this. By the way, Pete is getting very handy in that way. We must trust him with some of the commoner things, for it seems as if after all we shall have to fill up with the best of the less-known birds." "Oh, no," I said, as I carefully smoothed down the loose silky plumage of our solitary specimen. "We're tired now. When we have had a good wash and our tea-dinner we shall feel different." I carefully put away the trogon, and crossed to where Pete was busy getting the kettle to boil, and making other preparations for our evening meal. No light task, for his fire troubled him a good deal, and he began about it at once. "What I want, Master Nat," he said, "is some regular good stiff clay to make up into bricks. They'd bake hard. As for these stones I build up a fireplace and oven with, some go bang and fly off in splinters, and the other sort moulders all away into dust--regular lime, you know, that fizzles and cisses when it's cold and you pour water over it, and then comes hot again." "Try some of those pieces out of the river bed." "I have, sir, and they're worst of all. I say, Master Nat, stop and see that the pot don't boil over. I want to go down and get some fresh, clean water." "Don't be long, then," I cried. "I say, what's in the pot?" "Dicky bird stoo!" said Pete, grinning. "No touching while I'm gone." He caught up the bucket and started off down the cliff-side towards the river, while I idly watched him till he was out of sight, and sat back away from the glow of the fire, for I was hot enough without that. Then I naturally began thinking about the splendid trogons, and whether there was any likely place near that we had not well hunted through. "Lots," I said to myself. "They're here to-day and gone to-morrow. That's the way with birds, except when they have nests. They go about according to where they can find food. Hullo! He can't have got to the water in this short time." For I had caught sight of Pete hurrying back, and as soon as he saw me watching him climbing up from below he begun to make signs to me not to speak. "What has he found?" I said to myself, for he was creeping up nearly bent double and moving with the greatest caution. I rose to go down to him, but at the slightest movement he waved his hand to me to keep back; so I waited till he came up, panting, his face covered with the great drops of perspiration. "Seen a big snake?" I said, laughing. "No," he whispered; "don't make a noise. I've seen the troghums." "What!" I cried excitedly. "Don't," he whispered, "or you may frighten 'em again." "But do you mean to say you've seen some of the beautiful trogons?" "No," he panted, "not them; I've seen two or three of them other birds with the green and yellow and blue cocked-up tails, same as I saw before and you couldn't find." "Where are they?" I cried eagerly, for it was evident that he had seen something new in the way of birds. "Down below in the path we cut away to get to the water. They're behind the low bushes, three or four of 'em, and I could see their tails cocking up over the top. Guns, quick, 'fore they're gone and you say I was dreaming again." I uttered a low chirruping signal which brought my uncle and Cross to hear the news, and the next minute we had seized our guns. None too soon, for we were hardly ready before Pete pointed triumphantly downward towards a clump of ferns some twenty yards away, where I distinctly saw something move. "Now, aren't there no birds with tails like that?" he whispered, and I saw plainly in three places just such feathers as he had described rise into sight; but they were not the tails of birds, being the fantastic feather tiaras of Indians, whose dark faces rose now full in our view. The next moment we saw that they were armed with bows, and I had hardly realised this when there was a twanging sound, the whizz of arrows, and I uttered a cry of pain. It was as if a red-hot iron had passed through my shoulder, and my cry was echoed by an Indian yell. _ |
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