The Black Phantom Part 2

"Yes, and they are always in a hurry," came the prompt reply. "What are they saying?"

"They are _praying_,'Father of Waters,' they are pleading, 'wait for us and take us into your arms and carry us away with you to the great sea where the land ends. We are small and cannot travel the distance alone; the hungry ground would drink us up or the wind would dry us up. But in your embrace we will safely reach our home.'"

"Tell us, Oomah," one of the boys said in an awestruck tone, "are there still greater rivers than the Father of Waters we know?"

"The Father of Waters is but as a drop compared to the great sea into which it empties," Oomah said wistfully. "It is so large that there is no other side. The fish in it are bigger than the tallest tree and when the wind blows the waves are high as mountains."

"Oh, did you see these things Oomah," the eager listeners asked.

"No," came the reply, regretfully.

"Then, who did see them? Who told you of them?"

"Long, long ago the Cantanas were a powerful people. They built the largest canoes and travelled to the river's end. They saw them. The story of their wandering came to me from my mother."

"When we are men," one of the boys said, "we will make a great canoe.

Then you will take us to see the water that is so broad it has no other side."

"No," Oomah said sadly. "It is impossible, for since that day white men have come in countless numbers and settled along the borders of the Father of Waters. Little by little they are pus.h.i.+ng up the river. Some day they will be even here."

"Not so long as there is a Cantana alive," the oldest of the youths replied. "We will fight them and drive them back."

"I am glad to hear you say that and I would that I could be the leader against them. But, that too is not possible," regretfully. "The white men are numerous as the stars in the heavens. They fight with sticks that roar like thunder and throw the lightning that kills instantly.

Their boats vomit fire and smoke and are longer than from here to the water's edge."

"What terrible savages they must be," one of the boys said breathlessly.

"Some day," Oomah continued, a strange light brightening his face, "I will take you down the river to the border of the region where the white men live. We will travel at night and hide by day. From our places of concealment we will watch them but they shall not see us."

"What would Choflo say?" one of the more timid ones asked.

"We will not ask Choflo," another promptly replied. "He says too many things and always makes us do the things we hate to do."

"You forget," Oomah advised them, "that Choflo is leader of the tribe.

So long as he lives he must be obeyed."

This calmed the threatened insurrection. Oomah's words had been calculated to uphold their respect for the one who was their leader and they had accomplished their purpose, so the subject was dismissed.

"Would you hear more?" the youth asked.

"Yes, yes," came the response in a chorus of eager voices. "Tell us another story."

"This, also have I not seen," the storyteller continued, "nor do I hope ever to see it. But it has been known that at certain intervals of time a mysterious spirit appears in the forest--a huge black being, so powerful and so ferocious that every living thing shrinks from it in terror. Our sharpest arrows, shot from the most powerful bows do not harm it. It roars at night so that the sound of its voice may be heard a distance of a full day's travel and it slays on sight but does not devour the men it kills."

The hearers drew closer together. They were too interested for speech.

"It is said that the terrible monster is a phantom, sent by Tumwah, G.o.d of Drought to punish us for our evil deeds. It takes the form of the tiger but of a _black_ color. May none of you ever come under the spell of this vile spirit."

The tale was interrupted at this time. A shadow flashed past them on the sand.

"See, see," Oomah shouted, jumping to his feet. He pointed to a black bird, a vulture, that was circling over their heads.

"The omen never fails. Siluk is coming; he is upon us. Look! look!"

He was now pointing to the fleeting shadow on the sand. Some of the bird's primary feathers were gone so that the wings cast a barred shadow.

"When the vulture sheds his wing-feathers the rains have started to fall in the mountains. Run, all of you, to the high banks and remain there. I will go to warn the others. Soon the flood will be upon us."

The urchins fled without further urging. And Oomah started on a run toward the cl.u.s.ter of hovels on the margin of the water.

His cries brought out the men and women before he reached their midst, and it required but a moment to deliver his message.

"Impossible," Choflo replied with a malicious gleam in his eyes. "The sign did not appear to _me_."

"But, I saw it. The children saw it. Gather up what you can and run for your lives."

"No!" The leader raised his hands. "The flood will not reach us. I will stop it."

He raised his voice in a low, droning chant but before he had uttered a dozen words there came a distant roar, dull but unmistakable, that drowned the sound of his incantation.

The Indians needed no further evidence of the truth of Oomah's warning.

Abandoning everything, they rushed in a body toward the distant bank that meant safety; and Choflo, despite his years, well held his place among them.

They were just in time. Scarcely had the last man gained the higher ground than the wall of water thundered down the riverbed, engulfing everything in its path. Their weapons were lost; the turtles in the corrals were swept away; their cooking utensils had vanished. Had they heeded Oomah without delay it would have been different.

They had escaped with nothing but their lives; but, even for this they were grateful even though it meant days of suffering in the rain-drenched forest before they could again replace their loss.

CHAPTER III

THE TERROR OF CLAWS AND FANGS.

When Suma, the Jaguar, driven from the dismal wastes of the pantenal country by the encroaching floods of the rainy season reached the higher, forested region skirting the Andean foothills, she entered upon a wild orgy of terrorism and slaughter.

Her instinct gratified, Suma retired to the cavity in the cottonwood while the torrential rains fell with a monotonous roar, and the craneflies with their lacy, whirring wings formed a curtain in the entrance to lend sanct.i.ty to the inner chamber.

Ordinarily, Suma did not destroy wantonly; she killed for food only or in self-defense; or, in resentment of the too familiar advances or the indifference of some one of the less intelligent creatures that had not yet learned to respect her power and acknowledge her sovereignty in the jungle. But, the present was not an ordinary occasion, for soon Warruk, as the Indians on the Ichilo River called the Jaguar cub, was to make his appearance in the big world; and it was but for his comfort and safety that Suma provided.

After a three days' retirement the great cat emerged from the seclusion of her dark retreat, hungry and ferocious but with a stealth and caution well calculated to evade any prying eyes that might attempt to observe her actions from the treetops and surmise their meaning.

A puff, like smoke, from the entrance to the cavity announced her coming; but it was only the madly dancing cloud of craneflies clearing the pa.s.sage at her approach.

The rain was falling with a steady drone from a sky of unbroken, cheerless gray, and rivulets of water trickled from the drooping vegetation. Mosses and ferns, revived by the superabundance of moisture had sprung up on the decaying trunks and branches of the uprooted trees, pus.h.i.+ng their feathery leaflets through the blanket of creepers and forming a dense, soggy layer cold and clammy to the touch and treacherous underfoot. But Suma knew her domicile well and pa.s.sed rapidly and surefootedly over the interlocking tree skeletons and soon reached the level forest floor.

Straight as an arrow she headed to the north on some mission well-known to herself, moving like a shadow and at a rapid pace. Before long the windfall with the giant cottonwood containing the precious little Warruk had been left far behind. Suma knew where the round, red chonta nuts grew and that they ripened during the season of rains; and that even now the ground was covered with the tasty morsels. But this knowledge was of a vague nature only and interested her but indirectly. What was far more important was that the peccary herds fed on the chonta nuts and were sure to be in the neighborhood of their favorite feeding-grounds.