Drawing me aside, said that Nandeyara
was inside, and in exchange for the bright rug I could take him away.
The exchange was made, and I tied their god, along with bows and
arrows, etc., on the back of a horse, and we said farewell. I had
strict orders to cover up the idol from the eyes of the people until
we got away. Even when miles distant, I kept looking back, fearing
that the duped Indians were following in enraged numbers. Of course,
the priest would give out that I had stolen the image.
Ah, Rocanandiva, you are not the first who has been willing to sell
his god for worldly gain! The hand of Judas burned with "thirty
pieces of silver," the earthly value of the Divine One. Pilate, for
personal profit, said: "Let Him be crucified." And millions to-day
sell Him for "a mess of pottage."
The same horse bore away the devil and god, so perhaps without
the one there would be no need of the other.
So prolific is the vegetation that during our few weeks' stay with
the Indians the creeping thorns and briars had almost covered up the
path we had cut through the forest, and it was again necessary to use
our machetes. The larger growth, however, being down, this was not
difficult, and we entered its sombre stillness once more. What
strange creatures people its tangled recesses we knew not.
"For beasts and birds have seen and heard
That which man knoweth not."
I hurried through with little wish to penetrate its secret. Mere
existence was hard enough in its steaming semi-darkness. Our clothes
were now almost torn to shreds (I had sought to mend mine with horse-
hair thread, with poor results), and we duly emerged into daylight on
the other side, ragged, torn and dirty.
Our journey back to civilization was similar to the outward way. We
selected a slightly different route, but left the old chief safe and
well with his people.
One night our horses were startled by a bounding jaguar, and were so
terrified that they broke away and scattered in all directions.
Searching for them detained us a whole day, but fortunately we were
able to round them all up again. Two were found in a wood of
strangely-shaped bushes, whose large, tough leaves rustled like
parchment.
One afternoon a heavy rain came on, and we stopped to construct a
shelter of green branches, into which we crept. The downpour became
so heavy that it dripped through our hastily-constructed arbor, and
we were soon soaking wet. Owing to the dampness of the fuel, it was
only after much patient work that we were able to light a fire and
dry our clothes. There we remained for three days, Timoteo sighing
for Pegwaomi, and the wind sighing still louder, to our discomfort.
Everything we had was saturated. Sleeping on the soaking ground, the
poisonous tarantula spiders crept over us. These loathsome creatures,
second only to the serpent, are frequently so large as to spread
their thick, hairy legs over a six-inch diameter.
The storm passed, and we started off towards the river Ipane, which
was now considerably swollen. Three times on the expedition we had
halted to build rough bridges over chasms or mountain streams with
perpendicular banks, but this was broad and had to be crossed through
the water. As I rode the largest and strongest horse, it was my place
to venture first into the rushing stream. The animal bravely stemmed
the current, as did the rest, but Old Stabbed Arm, riding a weaker
horse, nearly lost his life. The animal was washed down by the strong
current, and but for the man's previous long experience in swimming
rivers he would never have reached the bank. The pony also somehow
struggled through to the side, landing half-drowned, and Old Stabbed
Arm received a few hearty pats on the back. The load on the mare was
further soaked, but most of our possessions had been ruined long ago.
My cartridges I had slung around my neck, and I held the photographic
plates in my teeth, while the left hand carried my gun, so these were
preserved. To my care on that occasion the reader is indebted for
some of the illustrations in this volume. Nandeyara got another wash,
but he had been wet before, and never complained!
On the farther side of the river was a deserted house, and we could
distinctly trace the heavy footprints of a tapir leading up the path
and through the open doorway. We entered with caution. Was the beast
in then? No. He had gone out by a back way, probably made by himself,
through the wattled wall. We could see the place was frequented very
often by wild pigs, which had left hundreds of footprints in the
three-inch depth of dust on the floor. There we lit a fire to again
dry our clothes, and prepared to pass the night, expecting a visit
from the hogs. Had they appeared when we were ready for them, the
visit would not have been unwelcome. Food was hard to procure, and
animals did not come very often to be shot. Had they found us asleep,
however, the waking would have been terrible indeed, for they will
eat human flesh just as ravenously as roots. After spreading our
saddle-cloths on the dust and filth, Old Stabbed Arm and I were
chatting about the Caingwas and their dirty habits, when Timoteo,
heaving a sigh of relief, said: "Thank God, we are clean at last!" He
was satisfied with the pigpen as he recalled the hoga of the Sun-
Worshippers.
