Adventure stories; Brazil -- Fiction; Fantasy literature; Jungles -- Fiction
"Say, fellows, let's take the lead," he suggested. "This little light
isn't much, but it's something, and there are some extra batteries in my
haversack when this burns out. We can see a little way ahead, and pass
back the word to the rest. What say?"
"_Na terra dos cegos quem tem um olho e rei_--in blindman's land he who
has one eye is king," said Pedro. "That little white eye in your box may
save us all. Lourenço, tell those ahead to let us pass."
Without question the preceding dugouts swerved, and the boat of the
white men slipped by. At the head of the line they found Tucu and his
crew struggling manfully to make progress without wrecking the whole
fleet at the turns. Vast relief and instant acceptance of the new
leadership followed Lourenço's explanation. At once the floating column
began to pick up speed. And it was well that it did.
Howls of baffled hate came faintly through the tree mass from the Red
Bone town. Some time later more yells of rage sounded, much nearer--back
at a place on the creek which the last boat had cleared only a few
minutes previously. Some of the Umanuh men had made torches and run
along one of the Red Bone trails to a bend in the stream, only to find
the water bare of everything but dying ripples.
Whether the enemy attempted to follow in canoes the escaping party never
knew, for none succeeded in overtaking the rearmost boat. And after that
one snarling uproar on the creek bank they heard no more of the land
pursuit. The narrow margin of safety gained by the aid of the flashlight
proved enough to give a commanding lead, and from that time on the only
obstacles to their retreat were those of darkness and winding waters.
Hour after hour Knowlton squatted in the extreme bow, picking out the
turns and snags just ahead and passing the word back to Lourenço, who,
in the stern, steered in accordance with his orders and relayed the
course to Tucu, just behind. Amidships, Pedro and McKay plied steady
paddles and the Raposa lay all but forgotten on the baggage. There were
no halts. If any boat back in the blackness got into difficulties it
extricated itself as best it could, unaided by the rest, and fell into a
new place in the column.
At last a wan light, which was scarcely a light, but rather a lessening
of the density, came about the stream. The renewed racket of birds and
beasts announced that up overhead the sky had paled into dawn. Slowly
the nearest tree trunks began to take shape in the void, and presently
the shore line became visible to all eyes. At the same time Knowlton's
tiny lamp dimmed and faded out.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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