CHAPTER II
ROBBER AND ROBBED
TORRES SLEPT for about half an hour, and then there was a noise among
the trees--a sound of light footsteps, as though some visitor was
walking with naked feet, and taking all the precaution he could lest
he should be heard. To have put himself on guard against any
suspicious approach would have been the first care of our adventurer
had his eyes been open at the time. But he had not then awoke, and
what advanced was able to arrive in his presence, at ten paces from
the tree, without being perceived.
It was not a man at all, it was a "guariba."
?Of all the prehensile-tailed monkeys which haunt the forests of the
Upper Amazon--graceful sahuis, horned sapajous, gray-coated monos,
sagouins which seem to wear a mask on their grimacing faces--the
guariba is without doubt the most eccentric. Of sociable disposition,
and not very savage, differing therein very greatly from the mucura,
who is as ferocious as he is foul, he delights in company, and
generally travels in troops. It was he whose presence had been
signaled from afar by the monotonous concert of voices, so like the
psalm-singing of some church choir. But if nature has not made him
vicious, it is none the less necessary to attack him with caution,
and under any circumstances a sleeping traveler ought not to leave
himself exposed, lest a guariba should surprise him when he is not in
a position to defend himself.
This monkey, which is also known in Brazil as the "barbado," was of
large size. The suppleness and stoutness of his limbs proclaimed him
a powerful creature, as fit to fight on the ground as to leap from
branch to branch at the tops of the giants of the forest.
He advanced then cautiously, and with short steps. He glanced to the
right and to the left, and rapidly swung his tail. To these
representatives of the monkey tribe nature has not been content to
give four hands--she has shown herself more generous, and added a
fifth, for the extremity of their caudal appendage possesses a
perfect power of prehension.
The guariba noiselessly approached, brandishing a study cudgel,
which, wielded by his muscular arm, would have proved a formidable
weapon. For some minutes he had seen the man at the foot of the tree,
but the sleeper did not move, and this doubtless induced him to come
and look at him a little nearer. He came forward then, not without
hesitation, and stopped at last about three paces off.
On his bearded face was pictured a grin, which showed his sharp-edged
teeth, white as ivory, and the cudgel began to move about in a way
that was not very reassuring for the captain of the woods.
Unmistakably the sight of Torres did not inspire the guariba with
friendly thoughts. Had he then particular reasons for wishing evil to
this defenseless specimen of the human race which chance had
delivered over to him? Perhaps! We know how certain animals retain
the memory of the bad treatment they have received, and it is
possible that against backwoodsmen in general he bore some special
grudge.
In fact Indians especially make more fuss about the monkey than any
other kind of game, and, no matter to what species it belongs, follow
its chase with the ardor of Nimrods, not only for the pleasure of
hunting it, but for the pleasure of eating it.
Whatever it was, the guariba did not seen disinclined to change
characters this time, and if he did not quite forget that nature had
made him but a simple herbivore, and longed to devour the captain of
the woods, he seemed at least to have made up his mind to get rid of
one of his natural enemies.
After looking at him for some minutes the guariba began to move round
the tree. He stepped slowly, holding his breath, and getting nearer
and nearer. His attitude was threatening, his countenance ferocious.
Nothing could have seemed easier to him than to have crushed this
motionless man at a single blow, and assuredly at that moment the
life of Torres hung by a thread.
In truth, the guariba stopped a second time close up to the tree,
placed himself at the side, so as to command the head of the sleeper,
and lifted his stick to give the blow.
But if Torres had been imprudent in putting near him in the crevice
of the root the little case which contained his document and his
fortune, it was this imprudence which saved his life.
A sunbeam shooting between the branches just glinted on the case, the
polished metal of which lighted up like a looking-glass. The monkey,
with the frivolity peculiar to his species, instantly had his
attention distracted. His ideas, if such an animal could have ideas,
took another direction. He stopped, caught hold of the case, jumped
back a pace or two, and, raising it to the level of his eyes, looked
at it not without surprise as he moved it about and used it like a
mirror. He was if anything still more astonished when he heard the
rattle of the gold pieces it contained. The music enchanted him. It
was like a rattle in the hands of a child. He carried it to his
mouth, and his teeth grated against the metal, but made no impression
on it.
Doubtless the guariba thought he had found some fruit of a new kind,
a sort of huge almost brilliant all over, and with a kernel playing
freely in its shell. But if he soon discovered his mistake he did not
consider it a reason for throwing the case away; on the contrary, he
grasped it more tightly in his left hand, and dropped the cudgel,
which broke off a dry twig in its fall.
At this noise Torres woke, and with the quickness of those who are
always on the watch, with whom there is no transition from the
sleeping to the waking state, was immediately on his legs.
In an instant Torres had recognized with whom he had to deal.
"A guariba!" he cried.
And his hand seizing his manchetta, he put himself into a posture of
defense.
The monkey, alarmed, jumped back at once, and not so brave before a
waking man as a sleeping one, performed a rapid caper, and glided
under the trees.
"It was time!" said Torres; "the rogue would have settled me without
any ceremony!"
Of a sudden, between the hands of the monkey, who had stopped at
about twenty paces, and was watching him with violent grimaces, as if
he would like to snap his fingers at him, he caught sight of his
precious case.
"The beggar!" he said. "If he has not killed me, he has done what is
almost as bad. He has robbed me!"
The thought that the case held his money was not however, what then
concerned him. But that which made him jump was the recollection that
it contained the precious document, the loss of which was
irreparable, as it carried with it that of all his hopes.
"Botheration!" said he.
And at the moment, cost what it might to recapture his case, Torres
threw himself in pursuit of the guariba.
He knew that to reach such an active animal was not easy. On the
ground he could get away too fast, in the branches he could get away
too far. A well-aimed gunshot could alone stop him as he ran or
climbed, but Torres possessed no firearm. His sword-knife and hoe
were useless unless he could get near enough to hit him.
It soon became evident that the monkey could not be reached unless by
surprise. Hence Torres found it necessary to employ cunning in
dealing with the mischievous animal. To stop, to hide himself behind
some tree trunk, to disappear under a bush, might induce the guariba
to pull up and retrace his steps, and there was nothing else for
Torres to try. This was what he did, and the pursuit commenced under
these conditions; but when the captain of the woods disappeared, the
monkey patiently waited until he came into sight again, and at this
game Torres fatigued himself without result.
"Confound the guariba!" he shouted at length. "There will be no end
to this, and he will lead me back to the Brazilian frontier. If only
he would let go of my case! But no! The jingling of the money amuses
him. Oh, you thief! If I could only get hold of you!"
And Torres recommenced the pursuit, and the monkey scuttled off with
renewed vigor.
An hour passed in this way without any result. Torres showed a
persistency which was quite natural. How without this document could
he get his money?
And then anger seized him. He swore, he stamped, he threatened the
guariba. That annoying animal only responded by a chuckling which was
enough to put him beside himself.
And then Torres gave himself up to the chase. He ran at top speed,
entangling himself in the high undergrowth, among those thick
brambles and interlacing creepers, across which the guariba passed
like a steeplechaser. Big roots hidden beneath the grass lay often in
the way. He stumbled over them and again started in pursuit. At
length, to his astonishment, he found himself shouting:
"Come here! come here! you robber!" as if he could make him
understand him.
His strength gave out, breath failed him, and he was obliged to stop.
"Confound it!" said he, "when I am after runaway slaves across the
jungle they never give me such trouble as this! But I will have you,
you wretched monkey! I will go, yes, I will go as far as my legs will
carry me, and we shall see!"
The guariba had remained motionless when he saw that the adventurer
had ceased to pursue him. He rested also, for he had nearly reached
that degree of exhaustion which had forbidden all movement on the
part of Torres.
He remained like this during ten minutes, nibbling away at two or
three roots, which he picked off the ground, and from time to time he
rattled the case at his ear.
Torres, driven to distraction, picked up the stones within his reach,
and threw them at him, but did no harm at such a distance.
But he hesitated to make a fresh start. On one hand, to keep on in
chase of the monkey with so little chance of reaching him was
madness. On the other, to accept as definite this accidental
interruption to all his plans, to be not only conquered, but cheated
and hoaxed by a dumb animal, was maddening. And in the meantime
Torres had begun to think that when the night came the robber would
disappear without trouble, and he, the robbed one, would find a
difficulty in retracing his way through the dense forest. In fact,
the pursuit had taken him many miles from the bank of the river, and
he would even now find it difficult to return to it.
Torres hesitated; he tried to resume his thoughts with coolness, and
finally, after giving vent to a last imprecation, he was about to
abandon all idea of regaining possession of his case, when once more,
in spite of himself, there flashed across him the thought of his
document, the remembrance of all that scaffolding on which his future
hopes depended, on which he had counted so much; and he resolved to
make another effort.
Then he got up.
The guariba got up too.
He made several steps in advance.
The monkey made as many in the rear, but this time, instead of
plunging more deeply into the forest, he stopped at the foot of an
enormous ficus--the tree of which the different kinds are so numerous
all over the Upper Amazon basin.
To seize the trunk with his four hands, to climb with the agility of
a clown who is acting the monkey, to hook on with his prehensile tail
to the first branches, which stretched away horizontally at forty
feet from the ground, and to hoist himself to the top of the tree, to
the point where the higher branches just bent beneath its weight, was
only sport to the active guariba, and the work of but a few seconds.
Up there, installed at his ease, he resumed his interrupted repast,
and gathered the fruits which were within his reach. Torres, like
him, was much in want of something to eat and drink, but it was
impossible! His pouch was flat, his flask was empty.
However, instead of retracing his steps he directed them toward the
tree, although the position taken up by the monkey was still more
unfavorable for him. He could not dream for one instant of climbing
the ficus, which the thief would have quickly abandoned for another.
And all the time the miserable case rattled at his ear.
Then in his fury, in his folly, Torres apostrophized the guariba. It
would be impossible for us to tell the series of invectives in which
he indulged. Not only did he call him a half-breed, which is the
greatest of insults in the mouth of a Brazilian of white descent, but
_"curiboca"_--that is to say, half-breed negro and Indian, and of all
the insults that one man can hurl at another in this equatorial
latitude _"curiboca"_ is the cruelest.
But the monkey, who was only a humble quadruman, was simply amused at
what would have revolted a representative of humanity.
Then Torres began to throw stones at him again, and bits of roots and
everything he could get hold of that would do for a missile. Had he
the hope to seriously hurt the monkey? No! he no longer knew what he
was about. To tell the truth, anger at his powerlessness had deprived
him of his wits. Perhaps he hoped that in one of the movements which
the guariba would make in passing from branch ot branch the case
might escape him, perhaps he thought that if he continued to worry
the monkey he might throw it at his head. But no! the monkey did not
part with the case, and, holding it with one hand, he had still three
left with which to move.
Torres, in despair, was just about to abandon the chase for good, and
to return toward the Amazon, when he heard the sound of voices. Yes!
the sound of human voices.
Those were speaking at about twenty paces to the right of him.
The first care of Torres was to hide himself in a dense thicket. Like
a prudent man, he did not wish to show himself without at least
knowing with whom he might have to deal. Panting, puzzled, his ears
on the stretch, he waited, when suddenly the sharp report of a gun
rang through the woods.
A cry followed, and the monkey, mortally wounded, fell heavily on the
ground, still holding Torres' case.
"By Jove!" he muttered, "that bullet came at the right time!"
And then, without fearing to be seen, he came out of the thicket, and
two young gentlemen appeared from under the trees.
They were Brazilians clothed as hunters, with leather boots, light
palm-leaf hats, waistcoats, or rather tunics, buckled in at the
waist, and more convenient than the national poncho. By their
features and their complexion they were at once recognizable as of
Portuguese descent.
Each of them was armed with one of those long guns of Spanish make
which slightly remind us of the arms of the Arabs, guns of long range
and considerable precision, which the dwellers in the forest of the
upper Amazon handle with success.
What had just happened was a proof of this. At an angular distance of
more than eighty paces the quadruman had been shot full in the head.
The two young men carried in addition, in their belts, a sort of
dagger-knife, which is known in Brazil as a _"foca,"_ and which
hunters do not hesitate to use when attacking the ounce and other
wild animals which, if not very formidable, are pretty numerous in
these forests.
Torres had obviously little to fear from this meeting, and so he went
on running toward the monkey's corpse.
But the young men, who were taking the same direction, had less
ground to cover, and coming forward a few paces, found themselves
face to face with Torres.
The latter had recovered his presence of mind.
"Many thanks, gentlemen," said he gayly, as he raised the brim of his
hat; "in killing this wretched animal you have just done me a great
service!"
The hunters looked at him inquiringly, not knowing what value to
attach to his thanks.
Torres explained matters in a few words.
"You thought you had killed a monkey," said he, "but as it happens
you have killed a thief!"
"If we have been of use to you," said the youngest of the two, "it
was by accident, but we are none the less pleased to find that we
have done some good."
And taking several steps to the rear, he bent over the guariba, and,
not without an effort, withdrew the case from his stiffened hand.
"Doubtless that, sir, is what belongs to you?"
"The very thing," said Torres briskly, catching hold of the case and
failing to repress a huge sigh of relief.
"Whom ought I to thank, gentlemen," said he, "for the service you
have rendered me?"
"My friend, Manoel, assistant surgeon, Brazilian army," replied the
young man.
"If it was I who shot the monkey, Benito," said Manoel, "it was you
that pointed him out to me."
"In that case, sirs," replied Torres, "I am under an obligation to
you both, as well to you, Mr. Manoel, as to you, Mr. ----"
"Benito Garral," replied Manoel.
The captain of the woods required great command over himself to avoid
giving a jump when he heard this name, and more especially when the
young man obligingly continued:
"My father, Joam Garral, has his farm about three miles from here. If
you would like, Mr. ----"
"Torres," replied the adventurer.
"If you would like to accompany us there, Mr. Torres, you will be
hospitably received."
"I do not know that I can," said Torres, who, surprised by this
unexpected meeting, hesitated to make a start. "I fear in truth that
I am not able to accept your offer. The occurrence I have just
related to you has caused me to lose time. It is necessary for me to
return at once to the Amazon--as I purpose descending thence to
Para."
"Very well, Mr. Torres," replied Benito, "it is not unlikely that we
shall see you again in our travels, for before a month has passed my
father and all his family will have taken the same road as you."
"Ah!" said Torres sharply, "your father is thinking of recrossing the
Brazilian frontier?"
"Yes, for a voyage of some months," replied Benito. "At least we hope
to make him decide so. Don't we, Manoel?"
Manoel nodded affirmatively.
"Well, gentlemen," replied Torres, "it is very probable that we shall
meet again on the road. But I cannot, much to my regret, accept your
offer now. I thank you, nevertheless, and I consider myself as twice
your debtor."
And having said so, Torres saluted the young men, who in turn saluted
him, and set out on their way to the farm.
As for Torres he looked after them as they got further and further
away, and when he had lost sight of them--
"Ah! he is about to recross the frontier!" said he, with a deep
voice. "Let him recross it! and he will be still more at my mercy!
Pleasant journey to you, Joam Garral!"
And having uttered these words the captain of the woods, making for
the south so as to regain the left bank of the river by the shortest
road, disappeared into the dense forest.
