*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 theyhad made an auspicious start.
It took Ken only a moment to decide to make camp there and the next daytry to reach Micas Falls. The mountains appeared close at hand, andwere so lofty that, early in the afternoon as it was, the westering sunhung over the blue summits. The notch where the Santa Rosa cut throughthe range stood out clear, and at most it was not more than eighteenmiles distant. So Ken planned to spend a day pulling up the river, andthen to turn for the down-stream trip.
"Come, boys, let's make camp," said Ken.
He sent Pepe with his long _machete_ into the brush to cut fire-wood.Hal he set to making a stone fireplace, which work the boy rather pridedhimself upon doing well. Ken got George to help him to put up the stripof canvas. They stretched a rope between two trees, threw the canvasover it, and pegged down the ends.
"Say, how 're we going to sleep?" inquired Hal, suddenly.
"Sleep? Why, on our backs, of course," retorted Ken, who could readHal's mind.
"If we don't have some hot old times keeping things out of this tent,I'm a lobster," said George, dubiously. "I'm going to sleep in themiddle."
"You're a brave boy, George," replied Ken.
"Me for between Ken and Pepe," added Hal.
"And you're twice as brave," said Ken. "I dare say Pepe and I will beable to keep things from getting at you."
Just as Pepe came into camp staggering under a load of wood, a flock ofrusset-colored ducks swung round the bend. They alighted near the shoreat a point opposite the camp. The way George and Hal made headers intothe pile of luggage for their guns gave Ken an inkling of what he mightexpect from these lads. He groaned, and then he laughed. George came upout of the luggage first, and he had a .22-caliber rifle, which hequickly loaded and fired into the flock. He crippled one; the othersflew up-stream. Then George began to waste shells trying to kill thecrippled duck. Hal got into action with his .22. They bounced bulletsoff the water all around the duck, but they could not hit it.
Pepe grew as excited as the boys, and he jumped into the boat and with along stick began to pole out into the stream. Ken had to caution Georgeand Hal to lower their guns and not shoot Pepe. Below camp and justunder the bridge the water ran into a shallow rift. The duck got ontothe current and went round the bend, with Pepe poling in pursuit andGeorge and Hal yelling along the shore. When they returned a littlelater, they had the duck, which was of an unknown species to Ken. Pepehad fallen overboard; George was wet to his knees; and, though Hal didnot show any marks of undue exertion, his eyes would have enlightenedany beholder. The fact was that they were glowing with the excitementof the chase. It amused Ken. He felt that he had to try to stifle hisown enthusiasm. There had to be one old head in the party. But if hedid have qualms over the possibilities of the boys to worry him withtheir probable escapades, he still felt happy at their boundless lifeand spirit.
It was about the middle of the afternoon, and the heat had becomeintense. Ken realized it doubly when he saw Pepe favoring the shade.George and Hal were hot, but they appeared to be too supremely satisfiedwith their surroundings to care about that.
During this hot spell, which lasted from three o'clock until five, therewas a quiet and a lack of life around camp that surprised Ken. It wasslumberland; even the insects seemed drowsy. Not a duck and scarcely abird passed by. Ken heard the mourning of turtle-doves, and was at oncestruck with the singular deep, full tone. Several trains crossed thebridge, and at intervals the engine at the pumping-tank puffed andchugged. From time to time a native walked out upon the bridge to starelong and curiously at the camp.
When the sun set behind the mountain a hard breeze swept down the river.Ken did not know what to make of it, and at first thought there wasgoing to be a storm. Pepe explained that the wind blew that way everyday after sunset. For a while it tossed the willows, and waved theSpaniard's-beard upon the cypresses. Then as suddenly as it had come itdied away, taking the heat with it.
Whereupon the boys began to get supper.
"George, do you know anything about this water?" asked Ken. "Is itsafe?"
George supposed it was all right, but he did not know. The matter ofwater had bothered Ken more than any other thing in consideration of thetrip. This river-water was cool and clear; it apparently was safe. ButKen decided not to take any chances, and to boil all the water used.All at once George yelled, "Canvasbacks!" and made a dive for his gun.Ken saw a flock of ducks swiftly winging flight up-stream.
"Hold on, George; don't shoot," called Ken. "Let's go a little slow atthe start."
George appeared to be disappointed, though he promptly obeyed.
Then the boys had supper, finding the russet duck much to their taste.Ken made a note of Pepe's capacity, and was glad there were prospects ofplenty of meat. While they were eating, a group of natives gathered onthe bridge. Ken would not have liked to interpret their opinion of hisparty from their actions.
Night came on almost before the boys were ready for it. Theyreplenished the camp-fire, and sat around it, looking into the red blazeand then out into the flickering shadows. Ken thought the timepropitious for a little lecture he had to give the boys, and heremembered how old Hiram Bent had talked to him and Hal that first nightdown under the great black rim-wall of the Grand Canon.
"Well, fellows," began Ken, "we're started, we're here, and the triplooks great to me. Now, as I am responsible, I intend to be boss. I wantyou boys to do what I tell you. I may make mistakes, but if I do I'lltake them on my shoulders. Let's try to make the trip a great success.Let's be careful. We're not game-hogs. We'll not kill any more than wecan eat. I want you boys to be careful with your guns. Think all thetime where you're pointing them. And as to thinking, we'd do well touse our heads all the time. We've no idea what we're going up against inthis jungle."
Both boys listened to Ken with attention and respect, but they did notbind themselves by any promises.
Ken had got out the mosquito-netting, expecting any moment to find itvery serviceable; however, to his surprise it was not needed. When itcame time to go to bed, Hal and George did not forget to slip in betweenPepe and Ken. The open-sided tent might keep off rain or dew, but forall the other protection it afforded, the boys might as well have sleptoutside. Nevertheless they were soon fast asleep. Ken awoke a coupleof times during the night and rolled over to find a softer spot in thehard bed. These times he heard only the incessant hum of insects.
When he opened his eyes in the gray morning light, he did hear somethingthat made him sit up with a start. It was a deep booming sound,different from anything that he had ever heard. Ken called Pepe, andthat roused the boys.
"Listen," said Ken.
In a little while the sound was repeated, a heavy "boo-oom! ...boo-oom!" There was a resemblance to the first strong beats of adrumming grouse, only infinitely wilder.
Pepe called it something like "_faisan real_."
"What's that?" asked Hal.
The name was as new to Ken as the noise itself. Pepe explained throughGeorge that it was made by a huge black bird not unlike a turkey. Ithad a golden plume, and could run as fast as a deer. The boys rolledout, all having conceived a desire to see such a strange bird. Thesound was not repeated. Almost immediately, however, the thicket acrossthe river awoke to another sound, as much a contrast to the boom ascould be imagined. It was a bird medley. At first Ken thought ofmagpies, but Pepe dispelled this illusion with another name hard topronounce.
"Chicalocki," he said.
And that seemed just like what they were singing. It was a sharp, clearsong--"Chic-a-lock-i ... chic-a-lock-i," and to judge from the fullchorus there must have been many birds.
"They're a land of pheasant," added George, "and make fine pot-stews."
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The _chicalocki_ ceased their salute to the morning, and then, as theriver mist melted away under the rising sun, other birds took it up.Notes new to Ken burst upon the air. And familiar old songs thrilledhim, made him think of summer days on the Susquehanna--the sweet carolof the meadow-lark, the whistle of the quail, the mellow, sad call ofthe swamp-blackbird. The songs blended in an exquisite harmony.
"Why, some of them are our own birds come south for the winter,"declared Hal.
"It's music," said Ken.
"Just wait," laughed George.
It dawned upon Ken then that George was a fellow who had the mysteriousairs of a prophet hinting dire things.
Ken did not know what to wait for, but he enjoyed the suggestion andanticipated much. Ducks began to whir by; flocks of blackbirds alightedin the trees across the river. Suddenly Hal jumped up, and Ken wasastounded at a great discordant screeching and a sweeping rush ofmyriads of wings. Ken looked up to see the largest flock of birds he hadever seen.
"Parrots," he yelled.
Indeed they were, and they let the boys know it. They flew across theriver, wheeled to come back, all the time screeching, and then theyswooped down into the tops of the cypress-trees.
"Red-heads," said George. "Just wait till you see the yellow-heads!"
At the moment the red-heads were quite sufficient for Ken. They brokeout into a chattering, screaming, cackling discordance. It was plainlydirected at the boys. These intelligent birds were curious andresentful. As Pepe put it, they were scolding. Ken enjoyed it for afull half-hour and reveled in the din. That morning serenade was worththe trip. Presently the parrots flew away, and Ken was surprised tofind that most of the other birds had ceased singing. They had setabout the business of the day--something it was nigh time for Ken toconsider.
Breakfast over, the boys broke camp, eager for the adventures that theyfelt to be before them.