Ken Ward in the Jungle (1998) (16 page)

Then began a furious wrestling. Ken imagined it was the death-throes of the jaguar. Ken could not see him down among the leaves and vines; nevertheless, he shot into the commotion. The struggles ceased. Then a movement of the weeds showed Ken that the jaguar was creeping toward the jungle.

Ken fell rather than sat down. He found he was wringing wet with cold sweat. He was panting hard.

"Say, but--that--was--awful!" he gasped. " What--was--wrong--with me?"

He began to reload the clips. They were difficult to load for even a calm person, and -now, in the reaction, Ken was the farthest removed from calm. The jaguar crept steadily away, as Ken could tell by the swaying weeds and shaking vines.

" What--a hard-lived beast !" muttered Ken. " I--must have shot--him all to pieces. Yet he's getting away from me."

At last Ken's trembling fingers pushed some shells in the two clips, and once more he reloaded the rifle. Then he stood up, drew a deep, full breath, and made a strong effort at composure.

" I've shot at bear--and deer--and lions out West," said Ken. " But this was different. never get over it."

How dose that jaguar came to reaching Ken was proved by the blood coughed into his face. He recalled that he had felt the wind of one great sweeping paw.

Ken regained his courage and determination. He meant to have that beautiful spotted skin for his den. So he hurried along the runway and entered the jungle. Beyond the edge, where the bushes made a dense thicket, it was dry forest, with little green low down. The hollow gave place to a dry wash. He could not see the jaguar, but he could hear him dragging himself through the brush, cracking sticks, shaking saplings.

Presently Ken ran across a bloody trail and followed it. Every little while he would stop to listen. When the wounded jaguar was still, he waited until he started to move again. It was hard going. The brush was thick, and had to be broken and crawled under or through. As Ken had left his coat behind, his shirt was soon torn to rags. He peered ahead with sharp eyes, expecting every minute to come in sight of the poor, crippled beast.. He wanted to put him out of agony. So he kept on doggedly for what must have been a long time.

The first premonition he had of carelessness was to note that the shadows wer
e
gathering in the jungle. It would soon be night. He must turn back while there was light enough to follow his back track out to the open. The second came in shape of a hot pain in his arm, as keen as if he had jagged it with a thorn. Holding it out, he discovered to his dismay that it was spotted with garrapatoes.

Chapter
XV
-
THE VICIOUS GARRAPATOES
.

AT once Ken turned back, and if he thought
again of the jaguar it was that he coul
d
come after him the next day or send Pepe. Another vicious bite, this time on his leg, confirmed his suspicions that many of the ticks had been on him long enough to get their heads in. Then he was bitten in several places.

Those bites were as hot as the touch of a live coal, yet they made Ken break out in dripping cold sweat. It was imperative that he get back to camp without losing a moment which could be saved. From a rapid walk he fell into a trot. He got off his back trail and had to hunt for it. Every time a tick bit he jumped as if stung. The worst of it was that he knew he was collecting more garrapatoes with almost every step. When he grasped a dead branch to push it out of the way he could feel the ticks cling to his hand. Then he would whip his arm in th
e
air, flinging some of them off to patter on the thy ground. Impossible as it was to run through that matted jungle, Ken almost accomplished it. When he got out into the open he did run, not even stopping for his coat, and he crossed the flat at top speed.

It was almost dark when Ken reached the river-bank and dashed down to frighten a herd of drinking deer. He waded the narrowest part of the shoal. Running up the island he burst into the bright circle of camp-fire. Pepe dropped a stew-pan and began to jabber. George dove for a gun.

" What's after you?" shouted Hal, in alarm.

Ken was so choked up and breathless that at first he could not speak. His fierce aspect and actions, as he tore off his sleeveless and ragged shirt and threw it into the fire, added to the boys' fright.

" Good Lord! are you bug-house, Ken?" shrieked Hal.

"Bug-house! Yes!" roared_Ken, swiftly undressing. " Look at me!"

In the bright glare he showed his arms black with garrapatoes and a sprinkling of black dots over the rest of his body.

" Is that all?" demanded Hal, in real or simulated scorn. " Gee! but you're a brav
e
hunter. I thought not less than six tigers were after you."

"I'd rather have six tigers after me," yelled Ken. "You little freckle-faced redhead!"

It was seldom indeed that Ken called his brother that name. Hal was proof against any epithets except that one relating to his freckles and his hair. But just now Ken felt that he was being eaten alive. He was in an agony, and he lost his temper. And therefore he laid himself open to Hal's scathing humor.

"Never mind the kid," said Ken to Pepe and George. "Hurry now, and get busy with these devils on me."

It was well for Ken that he had a native like Pepe with him. For Pepe knew just what to do. First he dashed a bucket of cold water over Ken. How welcome that was!

"Pepe says for you to point out the ticks that 're biting the hardest," said George.

In spite of his pain Ken stared in mute surprise.

"Pepe wants you to point out the ticks that are digging in the deepest," explained George. " Get a move on, now."

"What!" roared Ken, glaring at Pepe and George. He thought even the native migh
t
be having fun with him. And for Ken this was not a funny time.

But Pepe was in dead earnest.

"Say, it's impossible to tell where I'm being bitten most! It's all over!" protested Ken.

Still he discovered that by absolute concentration on the pain he was enduring he was able to locate the severest points. And that showed him the soundness of Pepe's advice.

" Here--this one--here--there. . . . Oh ! here," began Ken, indicating certain ticks.

" Not so fast, now," interrupted the imperturbable George, as he and Pepe set to work upon Ken.

Then the red-hot cigarette-tips scorched Ken's skin. Ken kept pointing and accompanying his directions with wild gestures and exclamations.

" Here. . . . Oo-oo! Here. . . . Wow! Here. . .
. O
uch1--that one stung! Here . . . . A ughl Say, can't you hurry? Here! . . . Oh! that one was in a mile! Here. . . . Hold on ! You're burning a hole in me! . . . George, you're having fun out of this. Pepe gets two to your one."

" He's been popping ticks all his life," was George's reasonable protest.

"Hurry!" cried Ken, in desperation.

"George, if you monkey round--fool over this job--I'll--I'll punch you good."

All this trying time Hal Ward sat on a log and watched the proceedings with great interest and humor. Sometimes he smiled, at others he laughed, and yet again he burst out into uproarious mirth.

"George, he wouldn't punch anybody," said Hal. "I tell you he's all in. He hasn't any nerve left. It's a chance of your life. You'll never get another. He's been bossing you around. Pay him up. Make him holler. Why, what's a few little ticks? Wouldn't phase me! But Ken Ward's such a delicate, fine-skinned, sensitive, girly kind of a boy! He's too nice to be bitten by bugs. Oh dear, yes, yes! . . . Ken, why don't you show courage?"

Ken shook his fist at Hal.

"All right," said Ken, grimly. " Have all the fun you can. Because I'll get' even with you."

Hal relapsed into silence, and Ken began to believe he had intimidated his brother. But he soon realized how foolish it was to suppose such a thing. Hal had only been working his fertile brain.

"George, here's a little verse for the occasion," said Hal.

"There was a brave hunter named Ken, And he loved to get skins for his den, Not afraid was he of tigers or pigs
,
Or snakes or cats or any such things
,
But one day in the jungle he left his clothes, And came hollering back with garrapatoes."

Gre-at-t-t!" sputtered Ken. " Oh, brother Mine, we're a long way from home. I'll make you crawl."

Pepe smoked and wore out three cigarettes, and George two, before they had popped all the biting ticks. Then Ken was still covered with them. Pepe bathed him in canya, which was like a bath of fire, and soon removed them all. Ken felt flayed alive, peeled of his skin, and sprinkled with fiery sparks. When he lay down he was as weak as a sick cat. Pepe said the canya would very soon take the sting away, but it was some time before Ken was resting easily.

It would not have been fair to ask Ken just 'then whether the prize for which he worked 'was worth his present gain. Garrapatoes may not seem important to one who simply reads about them, but such pests are a formidable feature of tropical life.

However, Ken presently felt that he was himself again.

Then he put his mind to the serious problem of his note-book and the plotting of the island. As far as his trip was concerned, Cypress Island was an important point. When he had completed his map down to the island, he went on to his notes. He believed that what he had found out from his knowledge of forestry was really worth something. He had seen a gradual increase in the size and number of trees as he had proceeded down the river, a difference in the density and color of the jungle, a flattening-out of the mountain range, and a gradual change from rocky to clayey soil. And on the whole his note-book began to assume such a character that he was beginning to feel willing to submit it to his uncle.

Chapter
XVI
-
FIELD WORK OF A NATURALIST
.

THAT night Ken talked natural history to I the boys and read extracts from a small copy of Sclater he had brought with him.

They were all particularly interested in the cat tribe.

The fore feet of all cats have five toes, the hind feet only four. Their claws are curved and sharp, and, except in case of one species of leopard, can be retracted in their sheaths. The claws of the great cat species are kept sharp by pulling them down through bark of trees. All cats walk on their toes. And the stealthy walk is due to hairy pads or cushions. The claws of a cat do not show in its track as do those of a dog. The tongues of all cats are furnished with large papilla'. They are like files, and the use is to lick bones and clean their fur. Their long whiskers are delicate organs of perception to aid them in finding their way on their night quests. The eyes of all cats are large and full, and can b
e
altered by contraction or expansion of iris, according to the amount of light they receive. The usual color is gray or tawny with dark spots or stripes. The uniform tawny color of the lion and the panther is perhaps an acquired color, probably from the habit of these animals of living in desert countries. It is likely that in primitive times cats were all spotted or striped.

Naturally the boys were most interested in the jaguar, which is the largest of the cat tribe in the New World. The jaguar ranges from northern Mexico to northern Patagonia. Its spots are larger than those of the leopard. Their ground color is a rich tan or yellow, sometimes almost gold. Large specimens have been known nearly seven feet from nose to end of tail.

The jaguar is an expert climber and swimmer. Humboldt says that where the South American forests are subject to floods the jaguar sometimes takes to tree life, living on monkeys. All naturalists agree on the ferocious nature of jaguars, and on the loudness and frequency of their cries. There is no record of their attacking human beings without provocation. Their favorite haunts are the banks of jungle rivers, and they often prey upon fish and turtles.

The attack of a jaguar is terrible. It leaps on the back of its prey and breaks its neck. In some places there are well-known scratching trees where jaguars sharpen their claws. The bark is worn smooth in front from contact with the breasts of the animals as they stand up, and there is a deep groove on each side. When new scars appear on these trees it is known that jaguars are in the vicinity. The cry of the jaguar is loud, deep, hoarse, something like Inc, Diu, pu. There is much enmity between the panther, or mountain-lion, and the jaguar, and it is very strange that generally the jaguar fears the lion, although he is larger and more powerful.

Pepe had interesting things to say about jaguars, or tigres, as he called them. But Ken, of course, could not tell how much Pepe said was truth and how much just native talk. At any rate, Pepe told of one Mexican who had a blind and deaf jaguar that he had tamed. Ken knew that naturalists claimed the jaguar could not be tamed, but in this instance Ken was inclined to believe Pepe. This blind jaguar was enormous in size
,
terrible of aspect, and had been trained t
o
trail anything his master set him to. And
Tigre, as he was called, never slept or stopped till he had killed the thing he was trailin
g
As he was blind and deaf, his power of scent had been. abnormally developed.