The Pathless Trail

by Arthur O. Friel

  CHAPTER XV.

  THE CANNIBALS

  Through the long, dim shadows of early morning the little column passedon the last leg of its journey to the _maloca_ of Suba, chief of thisoutlying tribe of the Mayorunas. At its head marched Yuara, his left armincased in bandages, his face drawn and pallid, his stride stiff andspringless, but still carrying his weapons and stoically setting thepace as befitted the son of a subchief. He had had no sleep; he had lainin the gates of death; his arm ached cruelly; yet a warm glow shone inhis hollow eyes as he reflected on the fact that in all the unwrittenhistory of his people he was the first man to survive the inexorablepower of the wurali. As long as he lived this fact would lift him abovethe level of all his fellows. Even the chief could not boast of such asuperhuman feat.

  The undergrowth this morning was not so thick as it had been, and themachetes of Lourenco and Pedro stayed in their sheaths. The ground, too,was more level and the footing more firm. After some three hours ofwalking the Americans found that they had come into a faint path.

  Somewhat to the bewilderment of the white men, who expected the Indiansto increase their speed now that the way home lay under their feet, theleading pair slowed their gait. Moreover, they scanned the trail withintent care and watched the trees along the way. At length, with awarning grunt, Yuara stepped out of the path and began a detour. Hiscomrade and the Brazilians followed. The Americans stopped.

  "What's the idea?" demanded McKay, looking along the innocent-appearingpath.

  "Probably a man trap, Capitao," answered Pedro. "Follow us."

  "Let's see the trap first."

  Lourenco called to Yuara, who stopped and grunted two words.

  "_Si_, it is a trap. A pit, Yuara says."

  Yuara spoke again, and Lourenco added: "He says we must not touch it. Itis there just before you, covered so cunningly that it looks exactlylike the rest of the ground. The cover is a framework of sticks balancedon a pole, and the instant a man steps on it it gives way. He falls intoa nine-foot hole whose sides are dug inward, so that they overhang abovehim. There the cannibals find him and kill him. I fell into one of thoseholes when I first came into this Mayoruna country, so I know just howthey are made."

  "So? How did you get out?"

  "There were two of us, and I stood on the other man's shoulders while helifted me high enough to jump out. Then I tied bush rope to a tree andhe climbed up the rope. Come. Yuara waits."

  After a short circuit around the danger point the party returned to thepath, and as they went on Lourenco explained further concerning the pit:

  "Every approach to the _malocas_ has this kind of trap hidden in it, andothers also. The Indians recognize the places by some secret signalknown only to themselves--a certain kind of stick or vine or somethingof the kind, placed where it can be seen by those who understand. Thetraps are made to stop any enemies who try to sneak up on the _malocas_and catch these people unawares. Another kind of trap is a spring bow ora blowgun shot by a vine stretched across the path. Still another is apiece of ground studded with poisoned araya bones which pierce the barefeet of anyone walking on them. It is well for us that we now havefriendly guides."

  "Quite so," McKay agreed, dryly.

  Some distance farther on the leader again left the path, and this timeall filed after him without comment. Pedro pointed significantly at athin, tight-drawn bush cord stretched across the path at the height of aman's ankle--the trigger which would discharge hidden death at anythingtouching it. At another point, perhaps a hundred feet farther along, athird and last detour was made, and this time the nature of the trap wasnot revealed by anything on the ground. No questions were asked.

  With the passing of these three menaces Yuara resumed his former paceand abandoned his circumspection. Before long came sounds of communallife--the barking of a dog and shouts of children. Then suddenly theforest thinned, and after a few more strides the marchers foundthemselves in a clearing.

  Before them rose a big round house, about forty feet high and a hundredfeet in diameter, its sides composed of palm logs, and its roof a thickthatch of palm leaves, whence smoke oozed lazily through an opening atthe peak. A single low door, not more than four feet high, opened towarda creek a few rods away at the right. Near this doorway a couple ofnaked children, boy and girl, were playing with the dog, while beyondthem a number of women, also nude, were busy at some kind of work.

  As Yuara and his fellow-tribesmen entered the open space the boy shouteda greeting and started running toward them. Then, seeing the white menfiling from the bush behind the warriors, the youngster stood as ifshocked motionless. After one long stare he screamed and bolted for theshelter of the _maloca_. Other screams echoed his as the women also sawthe bearded outlanders. They, too, dived through the doorway.

  Out from behind the house leaped three warriors, two of whom already hadfitted arrows to their bows, while the third--a powerfulfellow--clutched a four-foot war club. Weapons raised, faces contractedinto fighting masks, they stared speechless at the spectacle of thesubchief's son calmly leading gun-bearing whites among them.

  Knowlton, though his attention was riveted on the astonished warriors,caught the quiet snick of Tim's safe-lock being turned off.

  "None of that, Tim!" he warned. "Put that safety on again. And don'thold your gun as if you intended to use it."

  "Aw, I was jest tryin' her to make sure she was all right."

  "Put it on!" snapped the lieutenant. Another tiny click told him theorder was obeyed.

  Out from the doorway darted another warrior, stooping low to avoidhitting his head. Others followed instantly, all armed and ready foraction. The opening was still vomiting tribesmen when Yuara and the restreached it. But none made a hostile move when it was seen that the sonof the subchief was in command and that the strangers seemed friendly.Yuara spoke, briefly but authoritatively, and the weapons sank. Then,with a word to his three companions, he ducked through the doorway. Theother three remained where they were.

  "We shall have to wait now, comrades, until Yuara tells his father andthe chief about us," Lourenco said. "So let us take off our packs andrest."

  He set the example by laying his rifle on the ground, unslinging hispack, squatting beside it, and coolly rolling a cigarette. Apparently hewas paying no attention whatever to the savages, who watched his everymove. But McKay, glancing at him as he followed suit, saw that, for allhis seeming unconcern, the Brazilian bush rover was keenly watchful andthat his gun lay within reach of his hand.

  From within the tribal house sounded the monotonous voice of Yuara.After listening a moment Lourenco quietly addressed the nearest warrior.A slightly surprised looked passed over the cannibal's face. He replied,and a slow conversation ensued.

  Meanwhile the others looked over the array of savage fighting men.Except for difference of stature, build, and expression, they were aslike as brothers. All were light skinned--hardly darker than theriver-tanned whites themselves; all had straight-set eyes, with no hintof the slant often found among the Indians of the Amazon headwaters; andthe cheek bones of all were fairly low. Their average stature was alittle under six feet, and most of them had an athletic symmetry ofphysique. Their feet, McKay noticed, were small and shapely.

  All wore tall feather headdresses of parrot and mutum plumes. All hadthe scarlet and black rings around the eyes, the streaks from temple tochin, the wavy design on their bodies. And each wore in the cartilage ofhis nose a pair of small feathers slanting outward. At another time andunder other circumstances the white men might have smiled at those nosefeathers, which resembled odd mustaches; but as they studied the austerefaces around them they found no occasion for merriment. Nor was thetension lessened by the sight of the weapons grasped in the strong handsof the warriors.

  Great bows and arrows, such as the hunters had borne, were supplementedhere by the long clubs of heavy wood and by ugly spears. The clubsterminated in balls studded with jaguar teeth. The spears were triplepronged, each prong ending in a saw-toothed araya
bone and each bonedarkened by the fatal wurali. Frightful weapons they were--the onedesigned to smash skulls and tear out brains, the other to stab andpoison at the same thrust.

  Lourenco stopped talking, and the others observed that now the wild menstood more easily, their holds on their weapons loosened.

  "I have shown them, Capitao, that I can speak their tongue, and toldthem we go to visit the chief Monitaya as friend," he explained. "Theytell me Monitaya has grown great since last I saw him. Another tribewhich lost its chief and subchiefs by a swift sickness has joined hisown, and he now rules two big _malocas_ together. He is a powerfulfighter, and if he is friendly to us we have a good chance of success.Ah! here is Yuara."

  The son of the subchief came through the doorway as he spoke, followedby an older man whose facial resemblance and ornaments indicated that hewas the subchief himself. His headgear was more elaborate than that ofhis men, and around his shoulders and down his chest hung a brilliantfeather dress, while a wide belt of green, blue, and black plumesencircled his hips. Yuara himself had inserted feathers in his nose anddonned a headband of tall parrot plumes a trifle more ornate than thoseworn by the ordinary fighters, and somehow the simple addition seemed totransform him into a bigger, fiercer man. Also, his eyes now held asmoldering light which had not been there before.

  The older man, Rana, the subchief, glanced swiftly along the line of newfaces. Then his gaze returned to McKay. His mouth set and hiscountenance turned hard. He spoke curtly to Yuara, who replied with oneword. After another long, unpleasant look at McKay, who stared coldlyback at him, Rana grunted a few words and re-entered the house.

  Lourenco, nonplussed by the frigidity of the subchief where he hadexpected gratitude or at least hospitality, glanced questioningly atYuara. But the young man stood mute, looking straight ahead.

  "The subchief says we shall enter and see the chief. We must leave ourguns outside."

  "Don't like that," muttered McKay. "That subchief looks ugly."

  "But we must obey or provoke a fight, Capitao. Besides, our rifles wouldbe useless inside, as they would be instantly seized if we lifted them.So let us make the best of it. But I think you can carry your pistolswith you; they are covered by the holsters, and I do not believe thesepeople know what they are. And since Rana spoke only of guns, we willkeep our machetes. Come."

  "Wait a second."

  McKay dived a hand into his haversack and brought forth a heavy huntingknife with a gaudy red-and-white bone handle, sheathed and attached to aleather belt.

  "Brought this along as a present for some Indian who might do us a goodturn," he explained. "Been thinking of giving it to Yuara, but now I'llpass it to the chief. Might make a difference. All right, let's go."

  With confident tread, but with some misgiving, the five advanced,leaving guns and packs on the ground. One by one they bent low and gotthrough the doorway. Yuara, with a word to a clubman and a motion to theequipment, followed the whites, trailed in turn by his three companionsof the forest. The clubman, after a curious inspection of the packs,stood on guard among them, his bludgeon grasped loosely butsuggestively, ready to prevent any undue inquisitiveness by the rest.But soon he found himself alone, for the other tribesmen transferredtheir attention and themselves to the interior of the _maloca_.

  Within the house the soldiers of fortune halted a moment, adjustingtheir vision to the sudden diminution of light. Except for the sunshinepouring in at the smoke hole above and at the tiny door behind, the onlylight in the big room came from small cooking fires scattered about theplace, and for the moment details were withheld from the newcomers'sight. Then they found themselves in what seemed a labyrinth of polesand hammocks.

  Through this confusion Yuara passed with familiar step, and in his wakethe travelers went to a central fire around which was a comparativelyclear space. Beyond, in a big hammock dyed with the symbolic scarlet andblack and tasseled with many squirrel tails, sat a fat, small-eyed,heavy-jawed man whose elaborate feather dress and authoritative airproclaimed him chief. Beside him stood Rana and another subchief, leanand somber-faced. Behind this bulwark of tribal might huddled the womenand children, staring wide-eyed. As the visitors stopped and returnedthe chief's unwinking regard the warriors packed themselves at theirbacks, blocking all chance of exit.

  When the shuffle of feet had died and no sound was audible, Yuara beganto talk. In his deliberate way he told the complete narrative of hisjourney, which previously he had sketched only in outline. His threecompanions corroborated his tale from time to time by nods, and when thediscovery of the slain hunter's bones was described one of those threestepped forward and laid the dead man's weapons on the ground before thechief. As Yuara went on he touched his bandaged arm and pointed to McKayand Knowlton. And as he concluded he motioned toward Lourenco.

  Ignorant of the Indian language, but guessing the nature of his talkfrom his motions, the Americans stood patiently awaiting the next move.For a time all three of the chiefs remained silent; but all of themstudied McKay, standing bolt upright with arms folded and thebelt-wrapped knife partly concealed in the hollow of one elbow. Thoughit was evident that Yuara had given the captain full credit for savinghis life, the faces of the head men showed no sign of friendliness. Infact, their expressions were distinctly ominous.

  At length the chief turned his eyes to Lourenco. The veteran bushmanpromptly stepped forward and said his say. At the end he turned, tookfrom McKay the knife, unrolled the belt, and dangled the weapon beforethe eyes of the rulers. They stared at it in obvious ignorance of itscharacter. Not until the Brazilian drew the blade from its sheath andthe glint of steel struck their vision did they show recognition. ThenChief Suba grunted, his little eyes lit up, and he reached for it.

  For a few minutes he sat gloating over the gift, admiring the bonehandle, hefting the weight of the long blade, while the subchiefs gazedin envy. When he looked up his face was beaming. But then the sour-facedsubchief at his left hand muttered something, and Suba's visagedarkened. His eyes rested again on McKay, went to the bandaged arm ofYuara, dropped to his knife--the first steel knife ever owned by him orany man of the Suba tribe--and rose again to the black-bearded captain.Abruptly then he spoke out.

  Lourenco stared in blank astonishment. After a puzzled moment he shookhis head as if unable to believe he had heard aright. Suba, scowling,repeated what he had said. Lourenco shook his head again, this time invehement denial, and began to talk. But Suba, rising with surprisingagility for a man of his weight, stopped him imperiously and spoke withfinality. Slowly the Brazilian nodded and turned to his captain.

  "I do not understand this, Capitao. But these are the words of thechief:

  "'The white man with the black beard tries a trick, but it does notdeceive the free men of the forest. The thing which he thinks to behidden in his own heart is known to Suba and his chiefs. It is knownalso to the chief Monitaya, and to his chiefs, and to his men also. Thewhite man is bold. And now his own boldness shall be his death.

  "'Since the white man has said he goes to visit the chief Monitaya, andsince by some demon's power the white man has saved the life of Yuara,who is a man of Suba, the men of Suba will allow him to go in peace fromthis place. But Suba will see that he and his companions go to Monitaya,who will know how to deal with his visitors. The men of Suba will takethe strangers at once to the canoes and carry them to Monitaya.

  "'If the white man of the black beard and the black mind thought the menof the jungle blind to the foulness he would do here, he is a fool. Itis useless for him or his men to lie and say they know not what Subameans. Let him look into his own heart and he will know well.

  "'Suba has spoken.'

  "Something is wrong, Capitao, but I do not know what it is. It will dono good to argue. Let us go at once."

  Suba snarled commands to the warriors. They trooped toward the door.Without another word or glance at the three chiefs Lourenco stalkedafter the Indians, and his comrades followed with stiff dignity.

  Outside, the sav
ages picked up the rifles and packs and carried them tothe creek, where small canoes lay. The five strangers were allowed tocrowd themselves together in a four-man canoe, but their guns and packswere distributed among four other dugouts, into which armed paddlersentered. Other Indians brought provisions to the outgoing craft. In avery short time the leading canoe started off downstream, followed bythe boat of the white men, behind which the other craft pressed closeand vigilant.

  They swung in among the trees, and the _maloca_ of Suba was blotted out.