Lost in the Forest - Robert Michael Ballantyne (summer beach reads txt) 📗

of the creature tore his thighs and arms; several large blood-vessels were injured; the light faded from the eyes of Wandering Will; his strong arm lost its cunning, and, in the midst of a loud report, mingled with a roar like thunder in his ears, he fainted away.

When Will recovered his senses he found himself stretched on his back on a low couch in a hut, with a man kneeling over him, and his comrades gazing into his face with expressions of deep anxiety. Will attempted to speak, but could not; then he tried to move, and, in doing so, fainted. On recovering consciousness, he observed that no one was near him except Larry O'Hale, who lay extended at his side, looking through the open doorway of the hut, while a series of the most seraphic smiles played on his expressive countenance!

It would have been an interesting study to have watched the Irishman on that occasion. Just before Will Osten opened his eyes, he was looking into his pale face with an expression that was ludicrously woe-begone. The instant he observed the slightest motion in his patient, however, he became suddenly abstracted, and gazed, as we have said, with a seraphic expression through the doorway. Poor Larry acted thus, in order to avoid alarming his patient by his looks, but, in spite of his utmost caution, Will caught him in the transition state, which so tickled his risible faculties that he burst into a laugh, which only got the length of a sigh, however, and nearly produced another fainting fit.

"Ah, then, darlin'!" whispered Larry, with the tenderness of a woman, "_don't_ do it now. Sure ye'll go off again av ye do. Kape quiet, dear. 'Tis all right ye'll be in a day or two. Bad luck to the baist that did it!"

This latter remark brought the scene of the tiger-hunt suddenly to Will's remembrance, and he whispered, for he had not strength to speak aloud--

"Was he killed? Who saved me?"

"Kilt!" cried Larry, forgetting his caution in his excitement; "faix he was, an' Bunco did it, too--blissin's on his dirty face--putt the ball betune his two eyes an' took the laist bit of skin off yer own nose, but the blood was spoutin' from ye like wather, an' if it hadn't bin that the cliver feller knowed all about tyin' up an'--there, honey, I wint an' forgot--don't mind me--och! sure, he's off again!"

This was true. Our hero had lost almost the last drop of blood that he could spare with the slightest chance of recovery, and the mere exertion of listening was too much for him.

For many weeks he lay in the hut of that hospitable Englishman, slowly but gradually returning from the brink of the grave, and during this period he found his host to be a friend in need, not only to his torn and weak body, but also to his soul.

Day after day Gordon sat beside his couch with unwearied kindness, chatting to him about the "old country," telling him anecdotes of his former life, and gradually leading him to raise his thoughts from the consideration of time to eternity.

Will Osten, like every unconverted man, rebelled at this at first; but Gordon was not a man to be easily repulsed. He did not _force_ religious thoughts on Will, but his own thoughts were so saturated, if we may say so, with religion, that he could not avoid the subject, and his spirit and manner were so winning that our hero was at last pleased to listen. Will's recovery was slow and tedious. Before he was able to leave Gordon's cottage his "independent" spirit was subdued by the Spirit of God, and he was enabled to exchange slavery to Self, for freedom in the service of Jesus Christ. For many a day after that did Will Osten lie helpless on his couch, perusing with deep interest the Testament given to him by his mother when he left home.

During this period his companions did not forsake him, but spent their time in hunting and conveying the proceeds to Tacames, where they disposed of them profitably. On one of these occasions they found that an English ship had touched at the port in passing, and, among other things, Larry brought a number of old newspapers to the invalid. Among the first that he opened Will read the announcement of the sudden death of his own father! No information was given beyond the usual and formal statement, with the simple addition of the words "deeply regretted."

We need not say that this was a terrible shock to the poor wanderer--a shock which was rendered all the more severe when he reflected that he had parted from his father in anger. In his weak condition, Will could not bear up under the blow, and, for some days, he lay in such a depressed state of mind and body that his comrades began to fear for his life. But after that he rallied, and a sudden improvement took place in his health.

One day he called his companions round him, and said:--

"Friends, I have resolved to leave you, and return to Europe. You know my reasons. I am not a companion, but only a drag upon you; besides, my mother is left unprotected. You will excuse me if I decline to enter into a discussion on this point. I have not strength for it, and my resolve is fixed."

Will paused, and Larry O'Hale, with a leer on his countenance, asked by what road he meant to travel.

"Across the Andes to the northern coast of South America," answered Will, smiling.

"An' you as waik as wather, with legs like the pins of a wather-wagtail!"

"That will soon mend," said Will, jumping up and pulling on his clothes; "get ready to go out hunting with me, Larry, if you have a mind to!"

Despite the remonstrances of his friend, Will Osten went out with his gun, trembling with weakness at every step. He was soon induced to return to the cottage, but his resolve was fixed. Next day he went out again, and, finally, in the course of a week or two, had recovered so much of his old vigour that he felt able to set out on his journey. Of course there were many disputings and arguings as to who should go with him, but it was finally agree that Larry and Bunco should be his companions. Indeed these two would take no denial, and vowed that, if he declined to accept of them as comrades, they would follow him as a rear-guard! Muggins and Old Peter decided that they would return to Tacames, and make their way thence to California.

Just before parting, Larry took Muggins aside and said, in as dismal a tone as his jovial spirit was capable of, "It's little I thought, mate, that you an' me would come for to part in this way, but ov coorse, I couldn't leave Mr Osten in such a fix, so, d'ye see, I must say farewell; but kape yer weather eye open, ould boy, for as sure as Larry O'Hale has got two legs, which makes a pair, you'll see him in Callyforny yit, diggin' for his fortin'. In the main time, as I know ye'll want money, an' as I've made a lot more than you by huntin'-- becase of being a better shot, d'ye see--here's a small sum which I axes you to accept of as a testimoniyall of my ondyin' friendship."

Muggins bluntly refused the leathern bag which Larry thrust into his hand, but he ultimately allowed him to force it into his pocket--and turned away with a sigh.

It was a lovely morning when Wandering Will sorrowfully bade his friends farewell, and, with his faithful followers, turned his face towards the snow-capped range of the mighty Andes.


CHAPTER ELEVEN.


WANDERING WILL TRAVELS, FINDS HIS PROFESSION PROFITABLE, AND SEES A GOOD DEAL OF LIFE IN NEW FORMS.

The first part of the journey was performed in a canoe on the Tacames river, up which they ascended with considerable speed. The scenery was delightfully varied. In some places the stream was wide, in others very narrow, fringed along the banks with the most luxuriant timber and brushwood, in which the concert kept up by birds and beasts was constant, but not disagreeable to the ears of such enthusiastic sportsmen as Will Osten, Larry O'Hale, and Bunco. The only disagreeable objects in the landscape were the alligators, which hideously ugly creatures were seen, covered with mud, crawling along the banks and over slimy places, with a sluggish motion of their bodies and an antediluvian sort of glare in their eyes that was peculiarly disgusting. They were found to be comparatively harmless, however. If they had chanced to catch a man asleep they would have seized him no doubt, and dragged him into the water, but being arrant cowards, they had not the pluck to face even a little boy when he was in motion.

Towards the afternoon of the first day, the hunters came to a long bend in the river. Here Will Osten resolved to leave Bunco to proceed alone with the canoe, while he and Larry crossed the country in search of game. Their friend Gordon had given them an elaborate chart of the route up to the mountains, so that they knew there was a narrow neck of jungle, over which they might pass, and meet the canoe after it had traversed the bend in the river.

"Have you got the tinder-box, Larry?" inquired Will, as they were about to start.

"Ay, an' the powder an' shot too, not to mintion the bowie-knife. Bad luck to the wild baists as comes to close quarters wid me, anyhow."

He displayed an enormous and glittering knife as he spoke, with which he made two or three savage cuts and thrusts at imaginary tigers before returning it to its sheath.

Cautioning Bunco to keep a good look-out for them on the other side of the neck of land, the hunters entered the forest. For several hours they trudged through bush and brake, over hill and dale, in jungle and morass, meadow and ravine, without seeing anything worth powder and shot, although they _heard_ the cries of many wild creatures.

"Och! there's wan at long last," whispered Larry, on coming to the edge of a precipice that overlooked a gorge or hollow, at the bottom of which a tiger was seen tearing to pieces the carcase of a poor goat that it had captured. It was a long shot, but Larry was impatient. He raised his gun, fired, and missed. Will Osten fired immediately and wounded the brute, which limped away, howling, and escaped. The carcass of the goat, however, remained, so the hunters cut off the best parts of the flesh for supper, and then hastened to rejoin the canoe, for the shades of night were beginning to fall. For an hour longer they walked, and then suddenly they both stopped and looked at each other.

"I do belaive we've gone an' lost ourselves again," said Larry.

"I am afraid you are right," replied Will, with a half smile; "come, try to climb to the top of yonder tree on the eminence; perhaps you may be able to see from it how the land lies."

Larry went off at once, but on coming down said it was