The Land of Mystery

  CHAPTER XII.

  TO THE DEATH.

  It was at this juncture that Jared Long, peering out from the shadow ofthe wood, observed a larger log than any he had yet noticed, sweepingby within a short distance of shore.

  It was without any branches, except a few near the top, but thereseemed to be a number of big knots projecting from the upper side. Hecounted seven and they were all of the same size. Furthermore, unlesshe was mistaken, the huge tree, from some cause, was working closer toland.

  _Suddenly one of the knots moved_!

  The sentinel uttered an exclamation, for the startling truth flashedupon him with the quickness of lightning.

  Each apparent knot was the head of a native!

  With amazing coolness, the New Englander brought his Winchester to alevel, and _bang, bang, bang_, he shattered three of the knots in quicksuccession.

  He would not have stopped the frightful work even then, had not theother targets disappeared.

  Awaking to their danger, the warriors, dropped down so low in the waterthat the log intervened between them and the deadly marksman.

  Still the tree with its terrible load was approaching land. Thenatives were swimming toward shore and pushing it in front of them.

  Long stepped back and roused the professor, placing his mouth so closeto his ear that he was able to apprise him of what was going on,without being heard by their enemies.

  Grimcke bounded to his feet, rifle in hand.

  "We'll take them as they come out!" he replied, instantly grasping thesituation.

  The log was drifting lower down at the same time that it neared theland. Determined to confront the savages the instant they came forth,the explorers hurried along the edge of the wood, so as to be on thespot when the landing should be made. It was well they did so, for amore astounding discovery than the first, instantly followed themovement.

  More than one of the trees that had floated by carried its humanfreight, and nearly a score of savages were crouching in the edge ofthe river, so flat on their faces that not one was visible from thespot where the sentinel was standing a moment before.

  The natives, with a cunning that was never suspected, had crossed theXingu above the rapids, where, as they knew, such a proceeding wouldnot be anticipated by the explorers. Then, stealthily making their wayto the bottom of the rapids, they first launched a number of trees andlogs until, as may be said, the white man on guard should become soaccustomed to them that they would cause no distrust.

  If he should be tempted to scrutinize the first, he would learn thatnothing was amiss and would let the rest go by unquestioned.

  As a result, the natives had floated past the canoe and under the verynose of the sentinel without his detecting it.

  The savage who swung the torch on the other side of the river probablymeant it as a command for the daring raiders to make no further delayin their attack.

  The group lying against the shore must have been puzzled by the suddenbombardment from the edge of the wood. They were so disconcerted, thatinstead of springing to their feet and charging upon the two defendersof the camp, half of them turned about, and diving deep into thestream, began furiously swimming for the other shore.

  They must have concluded that there was a hitch somewhere in theprogramme, and the time for disappearing had arrived.

  The other half, however, leaped to their feet, and, brandishing theirspears and yelling at the top of their voices, ran swiftly in thedirection of the whites, who were still firing their Winchesters.

  "Get behind a tree!" shouted the professor, who had a wholesome dreadof the poisoned weapons, and who lost no time in availing himself ofthe nearest shelter.

  But he did not cease to use his rifle. The cartridges in his magazinewere running low, and it was necessary to exercise care in aiming, fora few precious seconds must be consumed in extracting an additionalsupply from the belt at his waist.

  But Jared Long declined to follow the sensible advice and example ofhis friend. Scorning to seek shelter, even from such terrible weapons,he blazed away, making nearly every shot tell.

  It was not until he saw a knot of savages working round with a view ofgetting behind him, that he fell back a few paces, though stillexposed. The wonder was that he had not already been pierced by morethan one of the fatal missiles.

  Suddenly he was jerked almost off his feet. The impatient professorhad seized his arm and yanked him behind the tree at his side in spiteof himself.

  The New Englander would have been a zany to expose himself again, afterbeing provided in this summary fashion with a shield.

  But he, too, had about emptied the magazine of his Winchester.Although he could have brought out more cartridges from his belt in atwinkling, he coolly leaned his rifle against the tree and whipped outhis revolver.

  "After that is emptied," he reflected, "my knife is left."

  The action of the natives suggested that it was their wish to take boththe men prisoners instead of killing them. They had done too much tobe let off with such an easy death: they were wanted for torture.

  But, in making such a contract, it may be said that the assailantsfound it exceedingly difficult to deliver the goods.

  They might as well have tried to seize and hold a couple of diminutivevolcanoes, as to lay hands on the men whose supply of fire and deathseemed without limit.

  In the midst of the frightful struggle, with the shrieking figuresfalling, dashing forward and retreating, as if in wild bewilderment,Quincal rushed out of the wood with a shout brandishing his spear andmaking straight for the ferocious savages.

  With a daring and strength that surprised the latter no more than itdid his white friends, he drove the head of the weapon sheer throughone of the assailants, who went over backward with a screech thatdrowned all other noises.

  Quincal still grasped his weapon with both hands, and with amazingpower, extricated it, as his victim fell, and turned upon the others.

  But, by this time, he was surrounded and his fate was sealed.

  Anxious to save the brave fellow, the professor and Long emptied theirrevolvers among his enemies, but were unable to scatter them until thefellow sank to the ground, pierced deep and fatally in a dozen placesby the poisoned javelins.

  Instinctively, the two white men filled their magazines from theirbelts, as quickly as they could, and by the time Quincal was no more,they opened again on the savages.

  The latter had already lost fearfully, and this renewed assault wasmore than they could stand. If, instead of trying to make the whitemen prisoners, they had contented themselves with hurling their spears,when they first sprang from the ground, nothing could have savedGrimcke and Long.

  Now, when they launched the missiles, it was too late. The white menwere each protected by the trunk of a large tree, and standing back inthe shadow, their faces could not be seen. The only way of locatingthem was by the flash of their guns.

  They sent a shower of the javelins into the wood, and then were seizedwith that strange, aimless panic which sometimes comes over the bravestmen in the crisis of a conflict. The survivors made a wild break forthe river, into which they sprang as far as they could leap, divingdeep, swimming as far as possible beneath the surface, then coming upan instant for breath and diving again.

  The blood of the Professor and the American was at fever heat. Theyfelt it wrong to show mercy, after what had taken place, and were in nomood for any further weakness of that nature.

  Both ran down to the edge of the stream, and, standing almost in thewater, took deliberate aim at every black head as it rose to thesurface. They kept popping up here and there, at varying distances,only to drop out of sight again, the instant the swimmer caught breath;but in many instances, when they went down the second or third time,they did not come up again.

  Professor Grimcke and Jared Long were throwing away no ammunition.

  Finally, the dark forms began rising from the river on the other shore,where they darted into the wood, fearf
ul of the dreadful messengerswhich followed them even there.

  The repulse was decisive and there was little fear of the attack on thecamp being renewed that night.

  The shocking evidences of the disastrous repulse were on every hand,with the body of poor Quincal lying at the feet of the assailant whomhe had slain, and with nearly a score of dusky bodies stretched inevery conceivable attitude.