And yet there were indications that even human life itself was not farfrom us in those mysterious recesses. On the third day out we wereaware of a singular deep throbbing in the air, rhythmic and solemn,coming and going fitfully throughout the morning. The two boats werepaddling within a few yards of each other when first we heard it, andour Indians remained motionless, as if they had been turned to bronze,listening intently with expressions of terror upon their faces.
"What is it, then?" I asked.
"Drums," said Lord John, carelessly; "war drums. I have heard thembefore."
"Yes, sir, war drums," said Gomez, the half-breed. "Wild Indians,bravos, not mansos; they watch us every mile of the way; kill us ifthey can."
"How can they watch us?" I asked, gazing into the dark, motionless void.
The half-breed shrugged his broad shoulders.
"The Indians know. They have their own way. They watch us. They talkthe drum talk to each other. Kill us if they can."
By the afternoon of that day--my pocket diary shows me that it wasTuesday, August 18th--at least six or seven drums were throbbing fromvarious points. Sometimes they beat quickly, sometimes slowly,sometimes in obvious question and answer, one far to the east breakingout in a high staccato rattle, and being followed after a pause by adeep roll from the north. There was something indescribablynerve-shaking and menacing in that constant mutter, which seemed toshape itself into the very syllables of th
e half-breed, endlesslyrepeated, "We will kill you if we can. We will kill you if we can."No one ever moved in the silent woods. All the peace and soothing ofquiet Nature lay in that dark curtain of vegetation, but away frombehind there came ever the one message from our fellow-man. "We willkill you if we can," said the men in the east. "We will kill you if wecan," said the men in the north.
All day the drums rumbled and whispered, while their menace reflecteditself in the faces of our colored companions. Even the hardy,swaggering half-breed seemed cowed. I learned, however, that day oncefor all that both Summerlee and Challenger possessed that highest typeof bravery, the bravery of the scientific mind. Theirs was the spiritwhich upheld Darwin among the gauchos of the Argentine or Wallace amongthe head-hunters of Malaya. It is decreed by a merciful Nature thatthe human brain cannot think of two things simultaneously, so that ifit be steeped in curiosity as to science it has no room for merelypersonal considerations. All day amid that incessant and mysteriousmenace our two Professors watched every bird upon the wing, and everyshrub upon the bank, with many a sharp wordy contention, when the snarlof Summerlee came quick upon the deep growl of Challenger, but with nomore sense of danger and no more reference to drum-beating Indians thanif they were seated together in the smoking-room of the Royal Society'sClub in St. James's Street. Once only did they condescend to discussthem.
"Miranha or Amajuaca cannibals," said Challenger, jerking his thumbtowards the reverberating wood.
"No doubt, sir," Summerlee answered. "Like all such tribes, I shallexpect to find them of poly-synthetic speech and of Mongolian type."
"Polysynthetic certainly," said Challenger, indulgently. "I am notaware that any other type of language exists in this continent, and Ihave notes of more than a hundred. The Mongolian theory I regard withdeep suspicion."
"I should have thought that even a limited knowledge of comparativeanatomy would have helped to verify it," said Summerlee, bitterly.
Challenger thrust out his aggressive chin until he was all beard andhat-rim. "No doubt, sir, a limited knowledge would have that effect.When one's knowledge is exhaustive, one comes to other conclusions."They glared at each other in mutual defiance, while all round rose thedistant whisper, "We will kill you--we will kill you if we can."
That night we moored our canoes with heavy stones for anchors in thecenter of the stream, and made every preparation for a possible attack.Nothing came, however, and with the dawn we pushed upon our way, thedrum-beating dying out behind us. About three o'clock in the afternoonwe came to a very steep rapid, more than a mile long--the very one inwhich Professor Challenger had suffered disaster upon his firstjourney. I confess that the sight of it consoled me, for it was reallythe first direct corroboration, slight as it was, of the truth of hisstory. The Indians carried first our canoes and then our storesthrough the brushwood, which is very thick at this point, while we fourwhites, our rifles on our shoulders, walked between them and any dangercoming from the woods. Before evening we had successfully passed therapids, and made our way some ten miles above them, where we anchoredfor the night. At this point I reckoned that we had come not less thana hundred miles up the tributary from the main stream.
It was in the early forenoon of the next day that we made the greatdeparture. Since dawn Professor Challenger had been acutely uneasy,continually scanning each bank of the river. Suddenly he gave anexclamation of satisfaction and pointed to a single tree, whichprojected at a peculiar angle over the side of the stream.
"What do you make of that?" he asked.
"It is surely an Assai palm," said Summerlee.
"Exactly. It was an Assai palm which I took for my landmark. Thesecret opening is half a mile onwards upon the other side of the river.There is no break in the trees. That is the wonder and the mystery ofit. There where you see light-green rushes instead of dark-greenundergrowth, there between the great cotton woods, that is my privategate into the unknown. Push through, and you will understand."
It was indeed a wonderful place. Having reached the spot marked by aline of light-green rushes, we poled out two canoes through them forsome hundreds of yards, and eventually emerged into a placid andshallow stream, running clear and transparent over a sandy bottom. Itmay have been twenty yards across, and was banked in on each side bymost luxuriant vegetation. No one who had not observed that for ashort distance reeds had taken the place of shrubs, could possibly haveguessed the existence of such a stream or dreamed of the fairylandbeyond.
For a fairyland it was--the most wonderful that the imagination of mancould conceive. The thick vegetation met overhead, interlacing into anatural pergola, and through this tunnel of verdure in a goldentwilight flowed the green, pellucid river, beautiful in itself, butmarvelous from the strange tints thrown by the vivid light from abovefiltered and tempered in its fall. Clear as crystal, motionless as asheet of glass, green as the edge of an iceberg, it stretched in frontof us under its leafy archway, every stroke of our paddles sending athousand ripples across its shining surface. It was a fitting avenueto a land of wonders. All sign of the Indians had passed away, butanimal life was more frequent, and the tameness of the creatures showedthat they knew nothing of the hunter. Fuzzy little black-velvetmonkeys, with snow-white teeth and gleaming, mocking eyes, chattered atus as we passed. With a dull, heavy splash an occasional caymanplunged in from the bank. Once a dark, clumsy tapir stared at us froma gap in the bushes, and then lumbered away through the forest; once,too, the yellow, sinuous form of a great puma whisked amid thebrushwood, and its green, baleful eyes glared hatred at us over itstawny shoulder. Bird life was abundant, especially the wading birds,stork, heron, and ibis gathering in little groups, blue, scarlet, andwhite, upon every log which jutted from the bank, while beneath us thecrystal water was alive with fish of every shape and color.
For three days we made our way up this tunnel of hazy green sunshine.On the longer stretches one could hardly tell as one looked ahead wherethe distant green water ended and the distant green archway began. Thedeep peace of this strange waterway was unbroken by any sign of man.
"No Indian here. Too much afraid. Curupuri," said Gomez.
"Curupuri is the spirit of the woods," Lord John explained. "It's aname for any kind of devil. The poor beggars think that there issomething fearsome in this direction, and therefore they avoid it."
On the third day it became evident that our journey in the canoes couldnot last much longer, for the stream was rapidly growing more shallow.Twice in as many hours we stuck upon the bottom. Finally we pulled theboats up among the brushwood and spent the night on the bank of theriver. In the morning Lord John and I made our way for a couple ofmiles through the forest, keeping parallel with the stream; but as itgrew ever shallower we returned and reported, what Professor Challengerhad already suspected, that we had reached the highest point to whichthe canoes could be brought. We drew them up, therefore, and concealedthem among the bushes, blazing a tree with our axes, so that we shouldfind them again. Then we distributed the various burdens amongus--guns, ammunition, food, a tent, blankets, and the rest--and,shouldering our packages, we set forth upon the more laborious stage ofour journey.
An unfortunate quarrel between our pepper-pots marked the outset of ournew stage. Challenger had from the moment of joining us issueddirections to the whole party, much to the evident discontent ofSummerlee. Now, upon his assigning some duty to his fellow-Professor(it was only the carrying of an aneroid barometer), the matter suddenlycame to a head.
"May I ask, sir," said Summerlee, with vicious calm, "in what capacityyou take it upon yourself to issue these orders?"
Challenger glared and bristled.
"I do it, Professor Summerlee, as leader of this expedition."