Bert Wilson at Panama Part 10

With this piece of good advice d.i.c.k started dressing, and the others followed suit. After this they made up the lunch, eating a sandwich now and then by way of breakfast. There was nothing fancy in the way in which the sandwiches were thrown together, and the mothers of the three boys would no doubt have been horrified could they have seen it.

However, "everything went," as Bert expressed it, and in a very short time they had their packing done and were ready to start.

They slipped as silently as possible through the corridors, and in less time than it takes to tell were in the outer air. It was still very early, and the hot sun was not yet high enough to dissipate the heavy mist that hung close over the ground. They knew this would not last long, however, so started out on their expedition at a round gait.

They had resolved beforehand to strike into the wild country bordering the path of the big ditch, and see it "at first hand," as d.i.c.k phrased it. Each had a rifle with him, and they expected to bag some small game if opportunity should offer, with which to supplement their lunch.

The country immediately bordering the Ca.n.a.l at this point was rather barren and rocky, but at no great distance a thick tropical jungle sprang up, and it was into this that the boys resolved to go. Accordingly they picked their way over the rough flat, perhaps two miles in width, which lay between them and the line of green jungle.

The going was very rough, and it took them almost an hour to reach the trees. Everything has an end, however, and in due time they found themselves at the edge of the fringe of trees that stood out a little way from the main forest. These were soon pa.s.sed, and the comrades entered the green gloom of the big tropic trees. Their trunks shot up thirty or forty feet before the branches sprang out, and were thinly encircled by clinging vines and plants.

The leaves in many places met overhead, and caused a perpetual twilight in the forest aisles. As the boys penetrated deeper and deeper toward the heart of the woods the underbrush and vines grew continually thicker, and in many places they found their progress stopped by some tangled growth and were forced to cut it away before they could proceed. It grew hotter and hotter, too, with a damp, clammy heat that at last became almost unbearable.

"Great Scott!" burst out d.i.c.k, at last, while they were cutting through a particularly tough growth of vines and creepers. "I think this is about the hardest work I ever did in my life. What you need to make a path in this blooming jungle is a carload of dynamite--not merely a few little toad-stickers like these we're using."

"Well, as we haven't the dynamite handy, I suppose we'll have to make the best of the 'toadstickers,'" laughed Bert, amused by his companion's rueful countenance. "You didn't expect to find a macadamized road running through this little strip of woodland, did you?"

"No, but I didn't expect to find vines made of cast iron, either,"

replied d.i.c.k.

"Never mind, old scout," said Bert, "this can't last long. We're certain to hit on a game trail sooner or later, and then we'll be in clover. And the harder we work now, the sooner we'll find it."

"Oh, well, here goes," responded d.i.c.k, and fell to with renewed vigor.

Before very long it turned out as Bert had predicted. After cutting through a particularly dense thicket, they had not gone far when they stumbled on a narrow but clearly defined trail that ran in a southeasterly direction.

"Eureka!" exclaimed Tom, as this welcome sight met their eyes, "it will be plain sailing from now on, and we ought to be able to get somewhere."

"We don't know where we're going, but we're on the way," sang Bert.

"Forward, march, fellows. Christopher Columbus had nothing on us as discoverers."

"Righto," agreed his companions, and they set forth along the narrow path at a brisk pace.

There were traces of game in plenty, but they were unable to catch a glimpse of anything that might give them a chance to exercise their marksmans.h.i.+p. Of course, the trees were full of monkeys and parrots, but they had no wish to kill merely for the sake of killing, and were resolved to shoot nothing that they could not use as food.

No game made its appearance, and the boys were looking around for a site on which they could pitch camp, when they were suddenly startled by a distant shout.

"Help, help!" came the cry, evidently at some distance from them. In spite of this, the three adventurers had no difficulty in recognizing the note of terror in it, and after one look at each other started off at a dead run in the direction of the cries. Running, tripping, stumbling, picking themselves up and racing on again harder than ever, it was not long before the shouts for help were appreciably nearer, and Bert, with what breath was left him, shouted back. Tom and d.i.c.k followed suit, and it became evident the person in distress, whoever it might be, had heard them, for his shouts ceased.

Suddenly Bert, who was a little in advance of the others, pulled himself up abruptly, and glanced down at the ground. "Easy there, fellows," he cautioned, between gasps for breath. "It looks as though we'd struck the edge of a bog, and now we'd better make haste slowly."

"You're right," exclaimed d.i.c.k, after they had taken a few cautious steps forward. "It keeps getting softer and softer, and I think we'd better look around for some path. We'll be bogged in another hundred feet."

"Well, we might as well let whoever it is we're going after know we're still on the job," said Tom, and forthwith he gave vent to a whoop that sent a cloud of wild birds soaring up from the reeds by which they were now surrounded.

His shout was answered by another from the unknown, and Tom yelled, "Don't give up, we'll get to you as soon as we can. What's the matter, are you stuck in the swamp?"

"Yes," called the other, "and I'm getting deeper every minute. Follow the edge of the swamp a few hundred yards toward the west, and you'll find the path that I wandered from. But hurry up, or I'm a goner."

"All right," sang out Bert, and the three hurriedly skirted the bog in the direction which its unfortunate victim had indicated. Sure enough, in a few minutes they reached a spot where the reeds thinned out considerably, and they could see the stranger. He was almost up to his shoulders in the soft, sticky mud, but when he caught sight of his would-be rescuers, he waved a hand to them feebly.

"Step lively, boys," he implored, "I'm almost done for. I won't be able to last long. The further I sink the faster, and this muck will soon be over my head."

The three comrades held a hurried consultation as to the best means they could employ to effect the man's release.

"Let's buckle our belts together," suggested Bert, hastily divesting himself of his. "Maybe we can pull him out that way."

This was no sooner said than done, and in a twinkling the three stout belts were fastened together. Then, following the captive's direction, they ventured gingerly out on the narrow path, composed of quaking tufts of soft earth that led into and presumably across the swamp. Soon they were within ten feet or so of the unfortunate, who proved to be a well built man of middle age. They threw him the end of the improvised rope, which he grasped desperately. Then they bent their united efforts to pulling him out of the clinging mire. Pull as they might, however, they were hardly able to move him, as they could get no purchase on the soft ground, and only began to sink in themselves. It was with difficulty that, after giving over this attempt as hopeless, they managed to scramble back to solid ground.

"Don't give up, boys," pleaded the unhappy man. "You're not going to let me die here, are you?"

"Don't worry about our deserting you," said Bert. "We're going to get you out of this, but we've got to figure out how. Can you think of anything?"

"You might run back to where the underbrush starts and bring back a lot of it," suggested he. "I might be able to support myself that way while you went for help."

"That's a good idea," exclaimed Bert, and in accordance with the suggestion they raced back to the jungle and soon returned, each bearing a large bundle of underbrush. This they threw into the swamp in such a way that the man could rest his arms on it. Then they waited expectantly to see if this would "turn the trick."

At first it seemed that the plan would prove successful, but before long it became apparent that the man was still sinking, although more slowly than before. The brush only served to defer his fate.

"Hang it all!" exclaimed Bert, as he realized this fact, "there's nothing we can do here alone. What we need is planks, and ropes, and tools. The only thing I can see is for us to hustle back to camp and get help."

"The sooner the better, I guess," agreed d.i.c.k, soberly, and accordingly they explained their intentions to the man in the bog.

"How far have you got to go?" inquired the latter, and when they told him he groaned.

"You'll never get back in time," he said, "but I guess it's the only thing left to do. Only, one of you please stay here with me. If I've got to die, I'd rather not die alone."

"Oh, quit that talk about dying," exclaimed Bert, although in his heart he had little hope. But the three comrades were resolved to employ every means, however desperate, for the stranger's release.

They held a brief consultation.

"You and Tom had better go, d.i.c.k," said Bert. "I'll stay here and do all I can to keep this poor fellow alive, but it's a long trip and I'm afraid there's not much chance for him."

So Tom and d.i.c.k set off at a brisk trot, and Bert began to talk with the unfortunate man with the idea of getting his mind as much as possible off his predicament. It developed that he was an engineer connected with the Ca.n.a.l, who had gone for a day's hunting in the jungle. He had lost his way, and had been forced to make camp over night. Early the next morning he had set out, and when he had reached the swamp had attempted to cross it by way of a path that a native guide had pointed out to him as being a short cut, on a previous trip. He had taken two or three steps off the path before he realized it, and then, when he had attempted to return, had found himself held fast in the treacherous mire. All his efforts to escape had only resulted in his sinking deeper and deeper, and finally he had ceased struggling. Then he began to shout at intervals, in the faint hope of someone being within earshot, and, as we have seen, brought the three boys to his aid.

While the man had been talking, Bert's mind had been busy with a hundred plans for helping him, which, however, he was forced to abandon one after the other. It wrung his heart to see the poor wretch slowly sinking in the filthy mud, and to feel his own absolute inability to help him. By this time, the stranger was in the mire up to his chin, the underbrush which the boys had cut for him having gradually been pulled under.

Almost imperceptibly, but none the less surely, he sank, and Bert tore his hair and paced wildly up and down the bank, wrung by pity for the doomed man. At last the latter smiled weakly, and said, "Well, good-bye, my boy. You and your pals did your best, but I'm done for now.

Hartley's my name, and tell the boys back at the camp that I died game, anyway. Tell them----"

But at this point Bert dashed madly away, pulling his sharp hunting knife from its sheath as he ran. He plunged into a thick clump of reeds on the edge of the swamp, and hastily cut an unusually long and tough one. He put it to his lips and blew through it, a.s.suring himself that it was hollow. Then he rushed madly back to the place where the engineer was immersed. Nor was he a minute too soon.

The man had sunk until the mud was at his very lips, and in another few moments it would inevitably close over his mouth and nostrils. Bert dashed out on the quaking path, careless of his own danger, and in a few words explained his plan to the engineer. The latter's eyes lighted up with hope, and expressed the thanks he had no time to utter.

Bert got as near him as he could, and thrust one end of the reed into Hartley's mouth. His teeth and lips closed tightly about it.

"There you are." exclaimed Bert, exultantly. "Now you can breathe through that reed until help comes from camp, and then we'll get you out if we have to drain the swamp to do it. I'll stay right here till they come, and the reed will mark your position. Keep up hope and you'll be all right yet."

His eloquent eyes told Bert that he understood, and now there was nothing to do but sit down and wait for the expected help to arrive from camp.