CHAPTER XVI PANT SETS A TRAP
The evening following his trip down the river to Daego's stationaryengine, during the twilight hour Pant might have been found in thelargest bunk house of the camp. A tropical wilderness seemed a queerplace for one to be teaching bayonet practice, yet that was exactly whathe was doing. He had learned these tactics in a summer military camp.Now, with five-foot mahogany clubs in lieu of guns and bayonets, hisCaribs were being taught to stab and fend, to dodge and swing, and toperform all those tricks that saved many a Yankee boy at Chateau Thierryand Belleau Wood.
Why was he doing this? Had you asked him why, he would perhaps have toldyou that Johnny had asked him to do it before he went away. Johnny wouldbe coming back. He would expect to have it done. Besides, the big battlewas coming some of these days, the fight to a finish with Daego's men. Itwas well to be prepared in every way for that fight. Daego's band stilloutnumbered them. He might get further reinforcements.
"If only we could reduce their number somehow," the boy sighed as,stepping from the bunk room into the gathering darkness, he left his mento finish their practice alone.
"We may do it, too," he chuckled, throwing a glance toward the littleshack which had been Johnny's office, and from which at this moment therecame strange noises and a mysterious glow of light.
Hardgrave's laboratory, however, was not Pant's destination. He was goingmuch farther that night.
Recent reports of fresh ravages committed by the man-eating jaguar hadthrown his men into a panic. One man had left camp. Others werethreatening to do so. Something must be done about it, and that at once.
Lowering a mysterious burden into the bottom of the dugout, and leaning aheavy rifle across it, Pant paddled away down the creek.
Having located the end of the rough trail which Johnny had cut to thefoot of the bread-nut tree, he bent down and began creeping cat-likethrough the brush. Half way to the tree he stumbled and all but fell.Like a flash he was on his feet and three yards from the spot. Somethingmoving beneath his feet had caused him to stumble. His breath came quick.Had he stepped on one of those great, poisonous snakes that infest thetropical jungle? He would hazard a flash of his pocket light.
For a second an oblong circle of light appeared on the back trail, thenthe boy laughed a low laugh. An armadillo, one of those strange,harmless, turtle-like creatures, had lain asleep in the trail. It wasthis he had stepped on, and not a snake.
Greatly relieved, he resumed his stealthy journey down the trail. Someforty feet from the bread-nut tree he paused to peer about him in thedarkness. Having found one of those low palms whose leaves, three or fourfeet across, are quite solid save for their ragged edges, he begansilently slashing off leaves until he had quite a pile. Some of these hespread three or four deep on the damp earth. Then, lying flat down, hedrew others over him until he was almost covered.
"Wouldn't want an elephant to come down this trail," he chuckled tohimself.
A few moments later there sounded from that mass of green palm leavessuch a long-drawn-out whistle as the little deer of these forests uses tocall his mate.
Pant was not hunting deer, but jaguars. In fact, he was hunting onejaguar, the killer. Once in the jungles of India he had used anexceedingly powerful red light to frighten a tiger. Now, with the aid ofdry batteries from the power boat, he had arranged a bright red light. Hehoped with his deer call to entice the killer to enter the trail, then tohold him at bay with the red light until he had a fair shot at him.
It was, he knew right well, a hazardous undertaking. Jaguars might notfear a red light. Who could tell about that? The killer might scent himand, turning hunter, leap upon him from the low boughs of the blacktamarind trees that grew near. This he must risk. Pant had an interest inJohnny's quest for the red lure. He had an interest in the Caribs. He hada still wider interest in all humanity. If all reports were true, if thisgreat cat with the mark above his eye had done the killing he wascredited with, he should be killed. Pant felt it his duty to attempt thishard and dangerous task.
So his whistle sounded on through the night. Now there was a movement offto the left. At once Pant was all attention. At last he discovered thatthis noise was caused by a large lizard hunting among decaying vegetationfor bugs.
Again the whistle. Again a movement, this time among the branches of atamarind tree. Pant's heart beat loudly. Was the great cat above him? Washe at this moment preparing for a spring? Could the cat know that underthose palm leaves was a tempting supper?
But no, Pant caught the flap-flap of wings. "An owl or a parrot," hebreathed in disgust.
But what was this? Before him in the path there had come a sudden thump.Ah, this was it, the very thing he had hoped for. The jaguar, in answerto his call, had leaped to the ground in the very center of the trail.
Now was the time to act. With trembling fingers he adjusted his light,drew his rifle into position, then threw on the catch.
At once a glare of red light, streaming down the trail, brought out everyleaf and twig with startling clearness.
Imagine the boy's surprise at seeing not a crouching jaguar with fieryeyes gleaming, but a small, timid, short-horned deer, who blinked blindlyat the light.
"Huh!" Pant breathed. "Call worked too well."
But wait; what was this? There came a movement from farther down thetrail. Pant looked. One look froze him cold. Behind the deer, taillashing madly, ready for a spring, was the killer.
As Pant saw, the deer saw, too. For ten seconds the frightened creaturehesitated. Beside him, to right and left, was impenetrable bush; behindhim a jaguar, his mortal enemy; before him the great unknown, the glareof red light. Ten seconds, and then with a bound he was away; dashingstraight at the red light. And after him, in great swinging leaps, camethe terrible cat.
There are times when the drama of life moves so rapidly that we can dolittle more than get out of the way and let things pass. When Pant sawthe jaguar and the deer there was not even time for that. The best hecould do was to flatten himself against his couch of leaves.
On they came. The deer decided to brave the terrifying light. On came thedeer and on came the jaguar. Pant dared not breathe. Now they were uponhim. Then came the cutting dig of hoofs in the boy's back, followed by awhirl of air.
What of the killer? Was that breath of air the sign of his passing? Hadhe cleared the green heap that was Pant, at a leap? Pant could not tell.For a long time he dared not move. Even after he had caught a distantsplash which told that the deer had taken to the water, he did not moveat once.
At last, cautiously snapping off his light and gripping his rifle, hesprang to his feet.
He listened intently. There was no sound. He tried to pierce the darknessbut could see nothing.
At last, after throwing his lighting apparatus over his shoulder andadjusting his rifle for a quick shot, he made his way back over the trailto the boat. Even here nothing moved. What had happened? Had the killerfollowed the deer into the river? Had he given up the trail to goprowling back into the forest? One thing was certain; the hunt was endedfor that night. Pant's nerves were too unsteady to give the red flash asecond trial. Besides, he was not at all sure it would work; in fact, hefelt reasonably certain it wouldn't.
"I'll get you yet," he said stoutly with the shake of a clenched fist inthe general direction of the jungle. With that he took to his dugout andpaddled home.