Suma followed her in a prodigious leap, unmindful of her own safety. And scarcely had Myla landed with a thud when the Jaguar was upon her—not to continue the assault but to rescue the whining Warruk who lay on the bed of leaves several feet away. She seized her cub by the nape of the neck, as a cat carries her kitten and without a moment's pause dashed away into the forest.

As for Myla, the blow had stunned her; and when her senses slowly returned she wondered where she was and how she happened to be there. It came to her in a flash. A moment later she was painfully dragging herself up into the branches after which she slowly made her way back toward the foothills, glad to be rid of the surly Warruk and firmly resolved thereafter to pursue her own life in the treetops and to let the denizens of the lower world pursue theirs without interference from her.

Suma crossed the windfall a short distance from the scene of the encounter and headed toward the east. Throughout the greater part of that night she travelled, impelled by a mad desire to put as much distance as possible between herself and the region infested with the meddlesome monkeys. Also, a mysterious something in the air told her that the time for her journey to the lowlands had arrived. And, when at last the shrieking parrot flocks overhead and the dull, gray light in front of her, bravely struggling through the mist, foretold the coming of day she stopped and carefully deposited her burden on the leaves. There followed a minute inspection, much fondling and purring and other evidences of glad rejoicing over the reunion.

Warruk was none the worse for his experience except that he had lost some of his plumpness; and he had developed such a strong dislike of monkeys that it boded ill for the members of that tribe in the future.

At last there came the day when the rising sun vanquished the sullen mists that had so persistently hugged the earth and all the world breathed in the glad fragrance of the morning and revelled in the light and warmth; and gave thanks for its deliverance from the clutches of Siluk, the Storm-God. For, the months of rain had been full of gloom; the days dark and cheerless, the nights chill and dreary beyond measure. The pulse of life ran high in anticipation of the joyous days to follow.

The birds, bubbling over with the sheer joy of living raised their voices in a swelling chorus and flashed their gorgeous colors as they hopped and flitted through the thick foliage bedecked with myriads of drops of water that scintillated like the rarest of gems. Their ranks had been augmented during the period of enforced seclusion and numbers of their young lacking the grace and brilliant hues of their elders viewed the new world with bright eyes as they learned the manifold lessons of life upon which their existence depended.

Monkeys howled with a tinge of cheerfulness in their hoarse voices; squirrels whisked their plume-like tails and barked at the swaying, sparkling leaves; tapirs wandered out into the open places; and the sinuous, scale-covered bodies of snakes glided from their hiding-places under the rotting leaves and prostrate tree-trunks and sought the splashes of sunlight for a reviving bask in the warm rays.

Amidst such scenes Suma led her cub through the region of forest growth, keeping with a fixed purpose to the direction that would take them to the vast open country where life and living were more worth while. They travelled in a leisurely manner either by day or by night, as suited their fancy and rested on a slanting tree-trunk if one was conveniently available and if not, at the foot of some giant of the jungle, or in the seclusion of a bamboo thicket.

Food was abundant although it required almost constant effort to secure enough to supply the two for the reason that only the smaller animals were stalked—for Warruk's benefit—so that he might become a successful hunter, learning his lessons step by step. But, when at last they reached the forest's end and the boundless reaches of papyrus marshes, pampas and tree islands lay before them Suma did not hesitate to slay whatever came within her reach. Warruk was always an interested spectator from some nearby point of concealment.

It was at the edge of one of the marshes that the cub saw his first deer. Suma had sensed his presence and stood tense and alert while the cub, a few feet in her wake, gazed at the fringe of swaying reeds in the tops of which black birds with red heads sat and trilled a cheery warble. Suddenly the stems parted and the head of a deer, crowned with wide-spreading antlers appeared framed in the mass of green. Warruk was fascinated by the sight of the magnificent animal which seemed to challenge them and expected his mother to hurl herself upon it and bring it down so that he could feel the joy of possessing it and of examining it at closer range. But Suma did nothing of the kind; she stood like an inanimate thing as the moments passed, knowing well that the deer's curiosity would cause it to draw nearer; that would be the time for the spring. But Warruk did not know this. He waited as long as he could and then bounded to his mother's side with an inquisitive whine. The spell was broken. The deer turned and vanished with a crackling of reeds and the splash of water; in a moment it was safe in the depths of the marsh. Suma knew better than to follow; she merely bestowed a look of disgust upon her young and moved away.

That very afternoon Warruk's very existence was threatened. His mother had penetrated into the papyrus a short distance the more fully to investigate a promising scent while he waited without. A spotted form, very like his mother but of much smaller size, darted from the reeds not ten yards away and stood eyeing him. Warruk did not like the other creature's looks and said so in a low growl, but instead of moving away it advanced a few steps and made an ugly grimace. How dared the impudent thing affect such boldness! The cub was accustomed to seeing much larger animals beat a hasty retreat upon the approach of himself and his mother and somehow he had gained the impression that he might be at least partly the cause of their temerity. But this stranger actually threatened him. In resentment he rushed blindly forward until the ocelot, for such it was, also charged and bowled him over with a swift stroke of its paw. He regained his feet with difficulty and screaming with pain and fright darted back towards the reeds. Suma heard the cry of distress and charged out of the dense cover with a snarl, but the ocelot had anticipated her coming and in a graceful leap to one side disappeared in the papyrus.

After that Warruk was content to leave the larger creatures to his mother; but the smaller ones such as the cavies and opossums he dealt with mercilessly and swiftly; in fact, Suma urged him to such a course and often watched from some nearby point of vantage while he conducted the stalk and launched the attack. Then she walked up to him and rewarded dexterity with deep purrs and penalized failure with cutting indifference or unmistakable chidings.

Life in the low country for the two wanderers was simply a succession of pleasant days and nights with just enough adventure to make it interesting. They never lingered long in one place and by gradual stages their journeying took them further and further away from the forested foothills and nearer to the great arteries that poured their waters into the system of the mighty Amazon.

Food became more abundant as the days passed and Warruk learned the lessons of life with Suma, his mother, and instinct, as instructors. As often as not, however, some particular bit of knowledge was acquired at personal risk; and this latter was accentuated by the fact that the cub showed a headstrong disposition to do things his own way, often impatient of his mother's more cautious maneuvering.

The great grass-covered areas were delightful places. In some of them the grass was ten feet tall and topped with white plumes that swayed and quivered in the wind. Here the bobolinks were sojourning—visitors from a far-off land who, after the wearying flight of thousands of miles over sea and land were spending the balmy days chattering and feeding on the abundant supply of seeds or, rising in swarms of thousands took short flights so that their wings might remain fit for the long journey northward when the call should come to return. With them, the red-breasted meadowlarks of the pampas sang and frolicked as if constituting themselves a welcoming committee to the strangers during their annual visit. Their gaudy plumage contrasted strongly with the sombre, spotted attire of the bobolinks.

Suma paid no attention to the birds but Warruk, trailing her like a shadow, often paused to cast longing glances in their direction or to strike one down if it fluttered within reach.

A perfect network of trails and runways covered the grasslands, made by the cavies and other of the smaller animals that kept to the dense cover and used also by the predatory animals that preyed on them. There were large birds also among the denizens of this underworld; one, somewhat resembling a turkey in size and shape but of gray color with bright red legs, was encountered frequently. But it always disappeared so silently that it seemed more like a shadow until its clear gobbling call rang out a moment later from some distant spot to which it had fled. It was usually found where grasshoppers were abundant and the two hunters not infrequently followed its movements for the purpose of locating more easily the swarms of insects. Suma was not overfond of this small fry but Warruk caught and ate of them until his stomach refused to accept another mouthful.

One afternoon they made a discovery of more than ordinary moment. Flocks of rheas—ostrichlike birds—were common in the open country. They were so wary that the two had only infrequent glimpses of the long-legged, long-necked birds as they dashed away and faded into the horizon. To pursue them was out of the question and Suma knew it for they ran with the speed of the wind. But this afternoon they came upon one of the great creatures squatting on the ground, head and neck straight down, outstretched in a serpentine attitude; nor did it attempt to move until the hunters had approached to within a few yards. Then it ruffled up its feathers, raised its head and hissed and bellowed in a threatening manner; but Suma was not dismayed. She crouched, gave vent to one hoarse roar and then began to advance. The bird held her ground until the Jaguar was less than six feet away, then rose suddenly and charged. Suma well knew what to expect, nimbly stepped aside to avoid the kick that was aimed at her and struck a swift blow in return that sent a fluff of feathers into the air. That was enough for the bird; she kept on going without even turning to see if the big cat was in pursuit and soon disappeared in the tall grass.

Before them lay a heap of smooth, white objects, larger than Warruk's head and as he looked on enquiringly his mother planted one massive paw directly in the midst of the pile with a crash that sent up a shower of white and yellow spray. The cub eagerly lapped up the contents of the broken eggs each of which held in volume as much as a dozen of the hen.

As the weeks rolled on Warruk grew rapidly in size and strength and the restless disposition that went with his black color began to make itself felt. He became impatient of his mother's caution and strategy. Something within him urged him even at his tender age to assert himself, to proclaim his superiority and to strike out alone.

At first he was content merely to stray from Suma's side only to return at her summons or when the odds were against him. Self-reliance came to him bit by bit. He learned that mastery in the wilderness depended largely upon a game of bluff—especially when cornered, and on one occasion when a fox, far larger than he, advanced menacingly he charged straight at it with a deep snarl; the fox turned and ran away. So, emboldened by this encounter Warruk was not slow to make use of the new knowledge gained from experience and encouraged by instinct. He strayed further and further from Suma's protection and at last came the day when the two drifted so far apart that the beginning of a permanent separation had most assuredly arrived.

The cub was startled, at first, when his mother failed to respond promptly to his call. He realized all of a sudden that he was alone.

As for Suma, she too had foreseen the coming event but when it actually occurred she promptly went in search of her wayward offspring which she had no difficulty in finding. But the meeting was not as joyous as either had anticipated. They heard the call of personal interests urging them to go their own ways and to follow their own desires.

The separations became of longer duration—the pleasure of the reunions less and less. And, presently Suma lost all thought of Warruk as the time for choosing a mate drew near.

As for the cub—he was free; free as the wind that swept the wild wastes of land and water comprising the desolate pantenal country. And he reveled in his new liberty. The whole world lay before him and he was its ruler by right of heritage but—there were many among the wildfolk who were not willing to acknowledge his supremacy or to render him the respect he considered his due until he had proven his prowess. This fact was driven home the very first night after the parting of the ways had been reached.

Warruk was hungry. He hunted on the border of one of the forest islands that were so numerous. Not a sound escaped him as he trod on velvety feet, eyes, ears and nose on the alert for the faintest indication of anything that might satisfy his craving stomach. A full moon shone upon him but so stealthily did he move that keener eyes than those of man would have been required to detect his presence. Still, at least some one of the creatures concealed in the clump of trees had observed his approach and had given the alarm. For here was the fresh scent of a deer leading into the thick growth; also that of a drove of pigs; of agoutis singly and in pairs, and even of an armadillo, but the animals themselves remained hidden in the dense cover.

He circled the thick mass that loomed black against the star-flecked sky but saw not a living thing. This was trying for well he knew of the abundance so near, still out of reach. Furtive eyes, no doubt, were following his every movement, their owners eager to pursue their own affairs the moment danger had passed.

Discouraged, Warruk sat down to rest. His eyes were turned toward the black wall of trees. A rustle, ever so faint, reached his ears and he crouched instantly.

Out of the darkness appeared a strange little creature, tripping along so daintily, so ethereally that the cub looked at it more in astonishment than with savage design. Onward it came across the moonlit strip of grassy plain and the soft light falling upon it revealed a plump body clothed in a coat of black fur with white stripes while above, like a silvery halo, waved a bushy, plume-like tail.

The stranger tripped merrily toward him, apparently unaware of his presence; then the cub's eyes began to glow in anticipation of capturing the prize. He crouched lower and drew back for the spring. Then a curious thing happened. The dainty little creature whisked around and puffed up to twice its former size. At the same time Warruk felt a fiery sting in his eyes; and, the odor of carrion was like a soothing incense compared to the stench that assailed his nostrils. He recoiled as if he had been struck a heavy blow. His eyes burned; his breath came in gasps; for a moment he was stunned. The first thing he thought of was his mother; but his call sounded hollow and unnatural and there was no response. He had been out-generaled, vanquished and insulted by a skunk, a creature but a fraction his size, and the realization of it hurt. His good opinion of himself fell, and he needed sympathy and encouragement as he had never needed them before. But they were not forthcoming. He was alone in the world and must fight his way or perish. In sheer distress he sat upright like the cat he was and proclaimed his woes to the moon in a series of lusty wails.



CHAPTER V

THE STRUGGLE FOR EXISTENCE

Warruk, the black cub was alone in the world, and a strange world it was, stretching on mile after mile into the hazy distance; seemingly there was no end.

The encounter with the skunk which had resulted in his ignominious rout brought home to him the fact that as yet he was not master of the wilderness. Far from it. He was but one of the hordes of creatures struggling for existence and the sooner he learned that caution and stealth led to success while bravado led to failure, the greater were his chances of survival and growth to the stage where he could fearlessly proclaim his mastery.

The struggle for existence was very real and very intense but not in the generally accepted sense of the word. It was not a competitive struggle between individuals of the same species, or even between members of different species. It was a fight to overcome obstacles; a battle against circumstances. There was food enough for all with sufficient to spare to supply the wants of untold numbers that did not exist; but, one of the problems was how to get it and the black cub was compelled to admit to himself that he was not an adept in reaching the solution.

Suma, his mother had taught him many things both practicable and useful. Others he knew from instinct, an inheritance from countless generations of his forebears. But as the days passed he more fully appreciated all that the knowledge of his mother had meant to him, especially when the voice in his stomach insistently demanded food that he was all but incapable of procuring. As a last resort, at such times, there were always the grasshoppers to fall back on even if he had lost his earlier liking for these insects. He had only to listen for the calling of the great, turkey-like Chunha, follow the gobble to its source and then gather up the winged but sluggish quarry until his hunger was satisfied, hoping, all the while that something better would turn up for the next meal.

There came the day, however, when the hosts of grasshoppers disappeared. They had lived their allotted span and had passed on. The cub was reduced to sore straits. The "crumbs" remaining from the feasts of foxes and wolves, heretofore passed in disdain were now eagerly pounced upon although they consisted mostly of bits of fur or feathers and fragments of bones.

Not once did his courage desert him in the face of adversity. This was demonstrated the day he first met the great ant-eater—a curious animal, black, with white stripes on its shoulders, and fully as large as Suma, his mother. The strange creature had a long, slender nose and a flat, bushy tail while its feet were armed with dagger-like claws six inches long. As it lumbered heavily over the ground it presented an interesting spectacle to Warruk, but not one to invite familiarity. At the same time he was not dismayed. He had not eaten for two days and here was the possibility of a feast.

The ant-eater and the cub discovered one another at about the same instant; but the former ignored the latter without a second thought feeling subconsciously that such an antagonist was not worthy of serious consideration. Warruk, however, felt differently about it. It was not necessary for him to attempt a surprise attack for the big, black bulk was waddling and swaying right towards him. He had only to stand his ground and this he did. The realization that the stranger was indifferent to his presence added rage and a desire for revenge to his longing for food and he flew at him with a swiftness that took the larger creature completely unawares. Before the latter knew that anything out of the ordinary had happened the cub was on his back and with claws and teeth was digging frantically at neck and shoulders.

Warruk might as well have spared himself the exertion for the ant-eater's hide was as effective as armor-plate against such an assault. The great, shaggy animal shook himself vigorously in an attempt to dislodge the small assailant, but the cub clung tenaciously, growling, clawing and biting the while. Then the ant-eater reared himself straight upright and fanned the air with his murderously armed forefeet; his long, round tongue played out of his minute, toothless mouth like a snake's. Still the Jaguar retained his footing. The ant-eater then dropped on all fours, leisurely ambled to the nearest tree and, scraping his back on the low branches soon brushed the cub off when he started unconcernedly away. No sooner did Warruk regain his feet than he again sprang at his quarry, only to be again dislodged as before. A third time the performance was repeated but now the ant-eater lost his temper. When his tormentor struck the ground he charged him savagely, striking with wicked design and galloping back and forth after his nimble assailant until at last the cub was forced to take refuge in the tree where his pursuer did not bother to follow. Instead, the queer creature shuffled to a nearby ants' nest—one of a group of slender, brown monoliths fifteen feet high that dotted the grassy plain—and broke away a part of the base of the structure with his great claws. When the break in the wall of the insects' domicile admitted a flood of daylight into the heretofore darkened interior, the ants rushed out in a solid stream to investigate the cause of the disturbance; and the ant-eater's whip-like tongue promptly gathered them up by the thousands.

Warruk watched the proceedings from his perch in the tree. He could tell by the actions of the large creature that it was eating and at the reminder of food he became frantic. He scrambled hastily to the ground just as the big beast ambled away and lost no time in poking his head into the cavity in the ants' nest in the hope of finding some remnant of the other's meal. But, if he thrust his head into the opening hurriedly he withdrew it in still greater haste. He had indeed found remnants of the feast, just as he had hoped. A carpet of ants covered his nose and face, clinging with a vise-like grip, their poisonous mandibles buried deep in his tender skin. The pain they inflicted was so intense that he screamed, rolled over and over, and rubbed his face in the soft grass; then, in a fit of rage he raced after the ant-eater which had been responsible for this new calamity, had deliberately tricked him no doubt in return for the annoyance he had caused him.

He caught up with the shaggy brute just as it was climbing, clumsily, a thick tree on the outskirts of one of the forest islands. In a crotch of the tree was a mass of sticks several feet across, and numbers of small, green parrots were clambering nervously over its rough exterior while others fluttered about in excitement screeching at the top of their voices. The birds sensed the danger to their nest and were vainly trying to avert the inevitable.

The ant-eater paid no attention to their clamor; he calmly established himself comfortably on a nearby branch and tore away at the nest, sending a shower of sticks and rubbish rattling to the ground. Inside the structure were little hollows, each containing three or four round, white eggs. The latter were the treasures the ruthless creature sought and after crushing the shells it lapped up their contents with audible gusto.

Warruk could endure the scene no longer. His enemy, busily engaged in the pleasurable task of eating, might be easier to handle; or, at least he could inflict painful injury to his lower extremities. While up in the tree he might also be able to catch one of the panic-stricken parrots which were climbing and fluttering around the destroyer of their abode with frantic shrieks. He dashed up the trunk wildly bent on securing both food and revenge at the same time. Suddenly he stopped. A fiery sting pierced his back; another bored into his side; a third smote him on his tender nose; and then it felt as if red hot needles were being thrust into every square inch of his body. Dark specks flashed past his eyes and a vicious buzzing sound filled his ears. His claws relaxed their hold on the rough bark and he fell to the ground.

Luckily the hornets did not pursue or the episode might have had a fatal ending for the cub. However, such experiences were to be expected. They were a part of the education that fitted him for the battle of life. He had at last learned that, at least for the present, he was no match for the ant-eater. He possessed cunning, stealth, agility and intelligence. The other creature could boast of none of these things; but in their stead it had formidable as well as useful claws, and was covered with a leathery hide that rendered it immune to assaults that he could not hope to withstand. It was evident that their paths in life lay in diverse directions.

That very night, as he lay moaning in the grass, a foolish agouti hopped up to him inquisitively and paid with its life for the indiscretion. And after bolting the tender flesh of the victim the cub again viewed the world in a friendlier light. What if he was alone, surrounded by lurking dangers. Others had braved the pitfalls that awaited the weak and unfit and had conquered them; he should do likewise. Then, eventually, the day would come when he could assume his proper role, schooled by bitter experience to hold the all important position of master. But, that time was still some distance off. Until then he must tread with discretion; must use that stealth and caution that was his by heritage. Of what value were the instincts accumulated by his kind through the ages if he continued to ignore them? He would heed them in the future; and to reassure himself on that point he lay still as death when a spiteful ocelot came into view not a dozen paces away. So soon as this prowler on mischief bent, oblivious of his presence, had passed on, he sought the densest cover in the forest island and curled up for a much-needed rest.

The first season of drought in the life of Warruk, the black cub, was drawing to a close. He felt the coming change just as surely as had Suma, his mother, one short year before while sunning herself on the rock in the river. The urge came from within and past experiences had taught the cub that not to heed the voice of his ancestors was to court trouble.

His wanderings had not taken him far into the low country; consequently he had not far to return to the forested region skirting the foothills. This was fortunate, for the rains swooped down upon the yearning world with a suddenness that was appalling.

Instead of the usual warning showers, water gushed in torrents from the sodden skies; and, during the brief intervals between the deluges the thunder of the flooded river replaced the steady, monotonous drone of the rain with its terrifying warning.

At nightfall, when the tropical day drew to its abrupt close, there was usually a lull in the tempest, as if the elements had hushed their ragings so that the cowering earth might view without distraction the terrible spectacle that unfolded itself.

An ominous calm made itself felt by its very intensity. The low, dark clouds in rafts scurried past at frantic speed; through rifts in the fleeing masses the higher layers were visible, hurrying in a different direction. The whole scene was a picture of wild confusion, and then—far on the horizon the cloud curtains were thrust aside for one brief moment. The sun, like a splash of blood, hovered waveringly over the rim of the black abyss and with a sudden plunge passed into oblivion. But, that short glimpse was enough. Siluk, the Storm-God, had plunged a knife into the heart of the heavens; no wonder the skies wept for months and months while the earth, wrapped in a dark pall of clinging mists also mourned, with streams and rivulets, like gushing tears, cutting deep furrows into its face.

Warruk knew nothing of all this. He simply felt the urge to leave the low country and by dint of hard travel managed to keep ahead of the encroaching water until he reached safety in the forested country.

The sight of the great trees, the chatter of the monkeys, and the smell of the rotting vegetation recalled a thousand memories. He was home again—home in the land of Suma and of plenty. And as the early mental pictures crowded into his brain he whined joyously and turned unerringly in the direction of the windfall. It was there the real home had been, in the cavity in the great cottonwood; he would seek its warmth and protection while the rain roared and the storm raged outside.

There it was at last, the high ridge of interlocking tree trunks and branches just as the storm had uprooted the forest giants years before. As time passed and the lower layers of the debris succumbed to the influences of decomposition, the mass settled, making the barrier more impassable than ever. The mantle of creepers covering it grew thicker and more even, smoothing the rough outlines and concealing the treacherous nature of the matter underneath.

Warruk hailed the familiar landmarks with delight. He raced along the edge of the windfall, his excitement growing as he neared his goal. Suddenly he stopped; almost directly overhead was the monkey-bridge where Myla, the monkey mother had crossed from and back to the hill country and at the far end of which Suma, his own mother had rescued him. He hastened past. And not long after he felt that he could not be far from the place of his birth.

Locating the exact spot presented some difficulties for he had never gone from the place in the normal way; the monkey was to blame for that. But before long his nose caught the scent of Suma and following it he warily picked his way over the tangled ridge straight to the entrance to the cavity in the cottonwood.

He stood in awe at the portal, undecided as to just what to do, for, in the opening hung the gauze-like curtain that obstructed his view of the interior. As he gazed at the veil he detected motion; then it dissolved itself into sections that moved independently of one another. Finally he could make out individual specks that whirled and danced with faintly buzzing wings and long, thread-like, dangling legs. The craneflies were keeping their yearly vigil, veiling the inner chamber from the profane glances of the outer world.

An instant later a monstrous form charged out of the darkened interior scattering the madly gyrating insects like chaff before a wind. It was Suma, the Jaguar, but she acknowledged no relationship between herself and Warruk, her cub of last year. In him she saw only an intruder in her abode and a possible source of danger to her new little one reposing in the seclusion of the cavity.

Warruk evaded the charge in a nimble spring to one side and, surprised and bewildered by the reception accorded him, dashed away—not in the direction whence he had come but straight over the top of the windfall. Ignorant of the pitfalls concealed by the mantel of creepers he hurried on his course, only to break through the thin veneer and plunge headlong into a black abyss; then he realized the treacherous nature of his footing.

Catlike, he landed on his feet five yards below in the center of a great, hollow stub; and, cat-like, he almost immediately began to climb the circular wall that surrounded the damp, evil-smelling hole into which he had fallen. But the wood was decayed; it was so soft and spongy it would not support his weight. As fast as his claws dug into the sides of the stub flakes broke off so that he could not draw his body off the ground. He tried again and again; but always the result was the same. Warruk was a prisoner in a gloomy cavity and while his prison walls were decayed and crumbling they prevented him from climbing to safety as effectively as if they had been made of the hardest of steel.

After numerous futile attempts the cub lay down panting, to rest. Suddenly he became aware of the fact that he was not the only occupant of the trap-like enclosure. A pair of beady eyes were silently regarding him from a crevice between two great roots. The eyes were sinister eyes, set too closely together to belong to an animal of any size unless——. With a shudder of terror the cub leapt to the farthest side of the prison, for the eyes were stealthily advancing, followed by a thick, sinuous body that seemed to flow from its hiding place. The newcomer was a great serpent.

Warruk felt an instinctive dread of the terrible creature that was so silently approaching. The unblinking eyes transfixed him—held him spell-bound. He had experienced nothing like it during the short year of his life. Trembling, he drew himself back against the wall of rotten wood as far as possible. The snake stopped and from its mouth came a hiss that sounded like a jet of escaping steam and lasted fully half a minute. Still the eyes came no nearer but motion was discernible in the darkened corner from which the reptile had appeared. The boa constrictor, for such it was, was noiselessly drawing foot after foot of its thick body into the chamber in preparation for a quick lunge at its victim. In a flash the scale-covered coils would be thrown about the cub, crushing him into pulp.

Warruk shot forward as if hurled from a catapult—not at the snake, but over its head, soaring above it a distance of fully two feet. He struck the side of the circular prison with a thud, rebounded instantly and landed on the neck of the great serpent before it could turn to follow his movements. The strategy had been successful. Writhe and shake itself as it would, the reptile could not dislodge the jaguar; nor was it possible to entwine him with the coils that groped and threshed about in vain for an effective hold, so closely did he cling. His claws were buried deep in the snake's flesh while his teeth had closed like the jaws of a trap upon the slender neck just below the head.

Seconds passed slowly and minutes, seeming more like hours, dragged by while the death struggle continued. Warruk knew that to lose his foothold meant a speedy end for him; his claws dug deeper through the tough hide and his jaws drew together with the slow, irresistible force of a vise. At last it came, a dull, faint report. The great reptile's head fell forward and the body lashed frantically; the spinal column had been severed and that marked the beginning of the end.

A half hour later the long black and yellow body had writhed its last and lay in a limp, knotted heap in one side of the prison. The cub was crouched as far away as possible from the mound of shimmering flesh and not for an instant did he remove his eyes from it. It was as if he half expected the snake to come back to life to renew the combat.

When night came Warruk resumed his restless pacing around the wall of his confining cell. The dead serpent did not trouble him now but he was careful not to tread upon it as he made his rounds.

The air in the hollow stub was anything but invigorating. It was heavy with the stench of decaying vegetation, and damp. It was not unnatural, therefore, that the cub should stop to sniff enquiringly at a thin stream of fresh air that gushed from somewhere near the floor and rushed up the chimney-like stub. That phenomenon was worth investigating for the air must enter through a passage communicating with the outer world; and the cub was not long in finding it.

An opening near the base of the stub, caused by the rending of the side when one of the giant trees crashed against it during the storm that razed the windfall through the jungle and piled up the wreckage to form the ridge, was located at last. It was through this that the snake had entered and the latter part of its body still clogged, at least partially, the passage.

Warruk dragged in the remainder of the snake and breathed deeply the fresh air and thrust first one forepaw and then the other into the crevice which was too narrow to permit the passage of his bulky head and body. His sharp claws caught in the edges of the break; the decayed wood crumbled away. Encouraged, he began to claw at the sides of the aperture, his excitement increasing until he was tearing at it frantically with no other thought than to escape from the trap into which he had fallen.

Daylight had come, however, before the opening had been increased to twice its original size and turning his head sideways the prisoner forced it through. His shoulders followed easily but when he attempted to draw the remainder of his body through, the hole seemed too narrow, holding him fast. After one or two tugs forward he tried to back out but going in that direction too was impossible. This indeed was an unusual and unenviable predicament, his forward half in the outer world which meant freedom, the other in the dark hollow of the stub where the serpent lay.

Just then a flock of wood-hewers, large, brown birds with strong, curved beaks, that hopped up and around the stems and branches like woodpeckers saw the young jaguar. They had been rummaging among the tangle of decaying wood, feasting on the superabundant grubs and larvae. But no sooner did they notice the prisoner than all thought of food vanished. Like the jays, they never failed to take advantage of an opportunity to tantalize some other creature, especially if they found the latter under distressing circumstances.

They darted at Warruk, flitted back and forth, hopped nimbly along the branches and raised their voices in low churrs or louder agonized wails. The cub was nonplussed and stared at the birds, at first blankly, then angrily; but they grew constantly more impertinent, even making daring sallies at his face as if to peck out his eyes.

One of the tormenters, unobserved by the captive, stole over the rim of the stub to investigate things in the gloomy interior and, while its brethren were busy outside found an undisputed field for activity in the cavity. Swooping low it dug its sharp, strong beak into Warruk's back just above the root of the tail.

The effect on the prisoner was magical. For all he knew the great snake had come to life again and was attacking him from the rear. With a mighty wrench he turned on his side and slipped through the opening to freedom.

All through the weeks of rain that followed Warruk hunted along the border of the windfall; but he did not again venture near the region where Suma, his mother held sway. He saw nothing of her. It was not until long, long after that their lives again intertwined when Suma unwittingly assumed the role of avenger and thus fulfilled an old belief of the wild men of the forest. So far Warruk knew nothing of man—did not even suspect the existence of such a creature. Blessed ignorance! for with the coming of that knowledge the lives of all the inhabitants of the wilderness undergo a change.

Food was so plentiful that on no occasion did the cub go hungry. And nurtured by the great abundance he grew in size and fearlessness even as the vegetation overhead and underfoot thrived in the soggy earth and moisture-laden air.

When the rains stopped, as they finally did, Warruk instinctively headed back toward the low country. After the long weeks in the rain-drenched forest the prospect of the pampas flooded with golden sunlight, of reedy marshes where the birds twittered and animals worthy of his prowess moved shadow-like in and out of the fringe of papyrus, and of tree islands with their ever-present air of mystery and adventure, was a joyous one to contemplate.

On the last day but one before the jungle's end was reached Warruk came upon the vanguard of the peccary herd. There were several hundreds of the ferocious little beasts scattered over a wide area uprooting the succulent sprouts that grew luxuriantly among the undergrowth.

The cub did not suspect that the band was so large, for there was no indication of its great number. The individuals ate quietly and moved stealthily. There was but an occasional low, moaning grunt given as a signal to keep the herd headed in the right direction, and the champing of the murderous tusks of the leaders.

Selecting the straggler nearest him the jaguar rushed upon it and in a short leap landed upon his victim's back. The peccary was doomed, but before the end came it had ample time to voice its terror in shrill screams that penetrated through the forest with an appalling clearness. Instantly the place was in an uproar. A hundred throats took up the cry and dark forms dashed into view from all directions surging in a solid mass to the assistance of their stricken fellow.

Warruk saw the avalanche of infuriated creatures sweeping toward him. In a moment he would be buried in the deluge of cloven hoofs and flashing tusks and torn to shreds. There was only one thing to do, so he leapt lightly to the trunk of the nearest tree and drew himself into the lower branches.

Before long the tree was surrounded by the enraged mob, rearing and plunging and vainly trying to climb in pursuit of its assailant. At the same time the animals squealed and grunted their hatred and threatened with gnashing teeth.

The siege lasted throughout the day; nor was it raised at nightfall. So far as Warruk was concerned, he crouched comfortably on the thick limb and interestedly observed the proceedings below, rather enjoying the impotent manifestations of the peccary herd; that is, he felt no misgivings so long as daylight lasted for the sun shone brightly and it was warm. But with darkness came a brisk wind that lashed the treetops into a madly waving, groaning tangle of spectral branches and brought a cold shudder to the besieged. There was no rain but the air was heavy with moisture from the saturated mould underneath and the chill penetrated to the very bones.

Warruk shivered. The cat tribe may endure neither excessive cold nor moisture and here was a combination of the two. The cub was rapidly growing numb and it was not long before that fact made itself felt. Should his strength fail him he would be unable to retain his hold on the elevated perch and would plunge down into the midst of the merciless horde that awaited him.

He arose, stretched his limbs and peered down; the frantic host was still there in full number. Then he began pacing back and forth on the branch. The exercise restored the sluggish circulation of his blood and he felt he had a new lease on life. Ten feet above his head was a thicker though shorter limb; he clambered up the trunk to it but the moment one paw touched the new footing it gave way, struck other branches in its downward course and fell to the ground a good fifty feet from the base of the tree. When it landed with a crash, stunning several of the peccaries and injuring others which immediately announced the fact in loud screams, the remainder of the herd rushed to the spot and in a moment was converted into a struggling, frantic mass. The animals were crazed with excitement and bent on but one thing—the destruction of their enemy which supposedly had fallen into their clutches.

That was Warruk's one chance, provided by his timely though unintentional loosening of the decayed branch. He slid quickly down the side of the trunk opposite the struggling mass of animals and darted away.

The ensuing months of sunshine and balmy weather were passing all too quickly in a succession of glorious days and starlit nights. Everywhere, in grassy pampa, forest island, reedy marsh and in the streams and lagoons, life teemed and the creatures were filled with the joyousness of living. Everyone was happy. What did it matter if myriads were doomed to die in the course of each twenty-four hours to provide food for the others? Was not it the plan of Nature that it should be so, from the very beginning? When an individual of any species lost its life there were others left to carry on the purpose of the kind and the survivors took no note of the fact that one of their number had vanished. There was no trace of dread or tragedy in the demeanor of any creature. Each unconsciously took his chance in the game of life just as civilized man takes his in multitudinous ways. If a bird narrowly escaped the talons of a hawk, even losing a fluff of feathers in the encounter, it did not remain indefinitely in dense cover, in fear and trembling; it soon forgot the experience and went about its affairs in the usual way, just as a man who barely escapes being struck by an automobile while crossing the street will not hesitate to again run the same risk at the very next corner. That is exactly as Nature intended it should be for, if either man or beast spent the time brooding over the many things that could happen, life would be a perpetual torment and probably of short duration.

Warruk, the black Jaguar, lived with a measure of joyousness that was brimming over. He was thrilled with the vastness of his world and with the possibilities that arose each day. There were adventures and misadventures and he relished both, for each added to the sum total of the things he should know.

As the dry season advanced the water in the lagoons fell rapidly and some of the smaller ones dried up completely. Those of larger size shrank to narrow proportions, the water receding gradually under the onslaughts of the sunshine and drying wind.

The pools that lay in the center of the wide, sun-baked mudflats were the mecca of a host of things. They teemed with imprisoned fish. Ducks and other waterfowl swarmed to them. Jacanas, birds with wide-spreading toes, ran nimbly over the lily pads on the surface, seemingly skating across the water itself. And, crocodiles migrated from a distance to these havens of security and plenty.

There was no choice. The animals of the plains and forests that required water to sustain life were compelled to seek out the remaining pools to quench their thirst. Some of them came only at lengthy intervals. Others came not at all, for apparently they could subsist through the entire period of drouth without drinking. But the vast majority were forced to visit the lagoons frequently or perish.

And as it was, not a few of them lost their lives in the midst of plenty. The sun, however, shone just as brightly as if there were no note of tragedy; parrots screamed as usual; blackbirds trilled, frogs croaked and bellowed, and the turtles laid their eggs in the hot sand. In other words, the procession of life moved on without taking note of those that dropped out along the way. It was neither more nor less than the enactment of an old, old drama.

Warruk drank after each kill. Sometimes that was daily; more often two or three days elapsed between gorges. But, the feast completed, he was always seized with a burning thirst and to quench it he was forced to visit the lagoons as occasion required.

By this time his mastery of the pantenal country was pretty well established. And when his supremacy was disputed it was invariably by some inhabitant of the denser growth where the advantage lay with the other creature. In the open country there was no need for apprehension. So far as the water was concerned he did not even surmise that possible danger might lurk in the stagnant depths.

The cub had eaten heavily of venison, having surprised a fawn in the tall grass while its mother had gone to the nearest water-hole, a full two miles away, to drink. And later, to quench his own thirst, he leisurely made his way to the margin of the river, further on, for the murky water of the lagoon was not to his liking.

A wide trail led to the edge of the stream, cut deep by the hoofs of tapirs, peccaries and other animals. Below, the water eddied lazily, as in a deep pool, before swirling away hurriedly further down.

After a casual survey of his surroundings the Jaguar stooped and began lapping up the warm but satisfying liquid. Something flashed dark beneath his nose and he drew back with a start; the action, sudden and violent, mired his forefeet deeply in the soft mud. Before he could recover his balance the long snout of a crocodile was thrust above the surface; the jaws opened, revealing rows of gleaming, peg-like teeth, and they closed again almost instantly with Warruk's left paw in their clasp.

The cub was no match for the great, powerful reptile, and before he could even attempt to offer resistance he had been dragged beneath the surface. The sudden plunge bewildered him, but only for an instant. Then he began struggling, frantically, the three free feet, with claws unsheathed groping blindly for a foothold. At first they encountered nothing but the unresisting water; and then one hindfoot grazed the crocodile's back, but the tough hide turned the sharp claws aside. The fact that there was a footing somewhere within reach changed despair to hope. If he could but obtain a firm hold to brace his body there might be the possibility of resisting his assailant which was rapidly backing further and further from the bank. Again his feet groped blindly in the darkness; again they encountered something besides the swirling water but this time the claws held fast then sank deeper as he pushed with all his might, slid slowly downward and once more were free.

Warruk had not the strength left to make another effort. There was no need for it for his claws had rent into ribbons the less tough hide of the crocodile's throat.

Painful though this injury must have been it was not enough to deter the villainous reptile from its purpose. On the contrary, it seemed to increase its speed. Other marauders, however, had been attracted to the scene of the combat, first by the struggle that they sensed from a distance and now by the blood that flowed freely from the lacerated throat of the crocodile. They were no other than the piranhas or cannibal fish. In legion they came until the water seemed packed with a solid mass of the ravenous creatures, crazed by the taste of blood and struggling so frantically to reach the source from which it came that they forced one another above the surface of the water.

Those nearest the crocodile ripped and cut at the wound with their triangular, razor-sharp teeth. And the great saurian soon understood that it was doomed unless it immediately sought refuge on the land where the fish could not follow. It rose to the surface and with powerful strokes of its feet and tail made for the bank.

But the frenzied horde was all about it, enveloping it as in a heavy cloak that dragged steadily downward. And all of the time there was the merciless tearing and slashing of keen-edged teeth attacking from all sides and in unbroken files. It was over in an incredibly short time—a few minutes at most. With its head nearly severed from its body the crocodile rolled on its side and sank slowly to the bottom.

As for Warruk, the vise-like jaws had opened at the first onslaught of the piranhas to snap at its assailants in frantic efforts at defense and retaliation; and thus freed, he rose to the surface and succeeded in swimming to the land with scarcely enough strength remaining to draw himself up. Luckily the fish did not attack him; they centered all their energy on the crocodile because the great gashes inflicted by his sharp claws rendered the heretofore invulnerable reptile an easy victim; for, once the tough hide had been penetrated the opening could be enlarged without trouble.

For a long time the cub lay as in a stupor. In fact, not until darkness fell did he arouse himself sufficiently to rise unsteadily to his feet and to limp away from the bank of the treacherous river.



CHAPTER VI

THE CRUELTY OF TUMWAH.

It was the seventh year since the great drought. Choflo, headman, sorcerer and oracle of the Cantanas, scanned the brassy sky and smote his breast with clenched fists.

"Tumwah is angry," he muttered to the members of the tribe who were huddled in a cowering group several paces to his rear. "The heavens tell me so; the curling leaves whisper the sickening message. Yesterday I saw the nest of a partridge; where there should have been four eggs there were six, for in this manner the knowing bird provides against the coming destruction, hoping that of the larger brood some one will survive. Five of her young may die but one will remain to carry on her species."

"And today," Oomah, youngest but most fearless of the hunters panted, "I pursued a she-pig in the forest. Three young were running at her heels instead of two."

"The signs do not lie," Choflo returned. "Look! See how the sand in the islands and on the riverbank is cracking! Tumwah is angry. Soon his fiery breath will sweep the green earth, parching the vegetation, searing our flesh and leaving death and destruction in its wake. Long days of suffering are coming."

No one spoke. But the Indians looked heavenward with terror in their eyes and trembled more violently than before.

"We must try to ward off the catastrophe; and failing in that, we must prepare for the worst. Let the corrals be well stocked with turtles and fill the calabashes with the oil of their eggs. A sacrifice must be made to Tumwah. Tonight, a crocodile shall be killed and eaten in his honor. Everyone must partake of it. And if the God of Drought be pleased with the offering a sign from heaven will show itself. If it displeases him—woe to all living things that walk the earth."

The group dissolved itself. The people silently went to their shelters of palm-leaves dotting the sandbar that extended far out into the river.

* * * * *

Warruk, the Jaguar, was no longer a cub. Four seasons of rain had come and gone since his advent into the world in the hollow cottonwood in the windfall. The erstwhile kitten, playing in the entrance to the cavity that had proved an irresistible attraction to Myla, the monkey, and to her sorrow, had grown into a creature of great size and powerful build, capable of more than holding his own with any other denizen of the jungle. Seen from a distance his coat was of a glossy, jet black color; but a close inspection would have revealed a regular pattern of rosettes similar to that marking the coats of his tawny brethren. The spots were very faint, however, like the watermarks on paper.

In the forest he reigned supreme, fearing nothing but feared by all; the same was true in the pantenales. Where the interlocking branches of the trees formed a canopy that shut out the moonlight he moved like a specter in the blackness. In the open country his shadowy form was equally inconspicuous. Quick and terrible were his attacks. Like an avalanche he descended upon his victims, seemingly from nowhere, but with a violence and ferocity that bore down and crushed and rent all at the same time, and with a suddenness that prevented escape or resistance.

So far Warruk had not ventured into the lower regions of the pantenal country—that vast world of marshlands, swampy forest islands and pampas bordering the great river compared to which the streams he had been accustomed to frequent in the upper reaches were but rippling brooks.

Suma, his mother, had warned him against the region below her own well-defined hunting grounds. Once, exactly seven years before, while the world writhed and baked in the throes of the last great drought she had been compelled to venture into the unknown land. The streams and lagoons had dried; those of the animals that did not perish outright migrated, and Suma had followed the living stream as a matter of self-preservation for, without food and water, life could not be sustained. But the venture had proved painful in at least one respect for men dwelt along the border of the master river, and in the very first encounter with them Suma had suffered the loss of one ear—neatly shorn from her head by the broad, bamboo blade of a Cantana arrow. She was glad to escape even with such sacrifice; but she never forgot the injury. The haunts of the man-creatures were avoided thereafter, as well as their trails and everything else that savored of them. This dread she had tried to impart to her offspring.

In the height of his powers, Warruk was ready to ignore the warning. Then, too, the sun now shone with an unusual brilliancy; fiery tongues from the sky seemed to lap up the water in the lakes and marshes, leaving nothing but vast areas of cracked and peeling mudflats sprinkled with brown, withered reeds that were a pitiful reminder of the waving expanses of green where the red-headed blackbirds had trilled their cheery song.

The drying-up process was gradual, yet swift. The crocodiles sensed its coming and buried themselves deep in the mud to aestivate until the coming of the rainy season; also the lung-fishes, queer little creatures resembling tadpoles, which could live week after week under the hard crust with only a pinhole in the surface through which to breathe.

As the water receded, the finny tribe proper imprisoned in the landlocked bodies became more and more crowded. They struggled in frantic masses, churning up the mud from the bottom so that the liquid in which they swam was thick and black. The smaller ones attacked one another savagely tearing at fin and tail; and the larger devoured their mutilated remains in the mad struggle to prolong life. But there came the day of complete annihilation when there was not water enough left to support the survivors; they slid feebly through the mire, threw themselves clear of it onto the sun-baked mudflats surrounding it, and then died.

The hordes that perished were numberless. And the stench of the decaying masses that dotted the country for hundreds upon hundreds of miles hung over the pantenales like a pall.

Tumwah was indeed angry! His fiery breath had indeed swept the green earth, parching and devastating it. And Warruk, even if the urge to explore and to conquer new fields were not impelling him, fled the scenes of desolation and guided by instinct made for the broad river where food and water must be abundant.

Both by day and by night he travelled, stopping for a short rest only during the early morning hours. Nor was he alone. Others of the larger creatures, terrified, hungry and thirsty were heading in the same direction, and of them he took a heavy toll.

The first sight of green trees fringing the horizon beyond the seemingly endless expanse of brown came as a blessed relief. Upon reaching it, Warruk found it a veritable oasis in the desert. The vanguard of the unusual migration had already reached the spot and it teemed with life.

The forest island covered many acres. There were deep, black pools in the unbroken shade; stealthy deer, tapirs, peccaries, and agoutis moved like shadows among the columnar trunks. A stream led from it into the distance that appeared greener and still more cheerful. Overhead, in the gnarled branches and leafy boughs were scores of snowy birds, egrets that had chosen the place for a nesting site. Some of them squatted on frail stick platforms; others sat motionless on the tips of the branches. Steady streams were coming and going constantly, resembling giant snowflakes that glistened and twinkled as the white wings fanned the air.

Warruk looked at them longingly for, to him a bird was a bird, and he remembered the tender partridges of more bountiful days. However, there were other creatures to supply his fare and for a week he revelled in the abundance.

Then the desire to push further and further into the unknown again came with an overwhelming insistency and he turned his face eastward where the grass was greener and low clouds hung like garlands of red and gold upon the horizon.

The stream of birds from the rookery was flying in the same direction. Soon he discovered its goal—a marsh of considerable extent which was the feeding-ground. Numbers of the long-legged egrets were wading in the shallow water, stopping now and then to dart their long, sharp bills into the throngs of fish dashing about their feet. Others stood motionless on the margin, like statuettes hewn out of purest marble; though seemingly dozing, they were very much on the alert as Warruk discovered when he tried to stalk one of them. He could never approach closer than a dozen good paces before the bird flapped away to the other side of the marsh, so after repeated trials he gave up the attempt and continued his journey.

The country beyond the marsh grew constantly greener and of a more cheerful character and the air of mystery surrounding the unknown deepened as he ventured further from the oasis. But life was not so abundant and the animals living under conditions varying little from the normal were more wary. So, after a few days of wandering and exploration Warruk returned to the spot so densely populated by the creatures that had fled before the drought. They were there still; in fact, many newcomers had been added to their number. As before, they moved noiselessly in the deep shadows and drank of the black water in the silent pools. But something about the place had changed. It differed in some respect from the haven of a few days before. Warruk sensed the change but at first could not discover what it was further than to note an offensive odor that penetrated into even the most hidden recesses. He sniffed the air in all directions; the stench came from overhead.

It was then he noted that the white birds that had made the treetops their home were no more. Also the lines of twinkling wings linking the nesting site with the marsh in which they fed were lacking. The place seemed strangely deserted and unnatural without their hoarse croaks and flashing bodies among the green leaves.

However, newcomers to the locality had taken their place. Huge, black birds circled over the forest island. Gaunt, dusky forms sat ghoul-like on the stick platforms that had been nests filled with impatient, squealing young birds, or flapped heavily and clumsily through the branches.

The oasis, now reeking of desolation far more than did the upper country when Tumwah descended upon it, had been deprived of its attractiveness and Warruk lost no time in leaving it. He followed the little watercourse straight to the marsh. And there new experiences awaited him.

The borders of the reed-dotted water were flecked with white. That much he saw from a distance. Of course it was the egrets and their presence here explained their absence in the treetops. But, why were they all so motionless? Before, he had been unable to approach to within a dozen paces of them! Now, not one stirred although he was less than half that distance away and the slight wind that blew ruffled their feathers in a most peculiar manner. He drew still nearer. Then it dawned upon him that they were dead. Rafts of fish, also dead, floating on the surface of the water dotted the edges of the marsh. And, strangest of all, queer footprints were visible in the mud. They were unlike any Warruk had ever seen—long, broad, and giving off a strange scent. He sniffed the tracks and followed them entirely around the marsh to the river. There they disappeared at the water's edge.

For once the Jaguar broke his rule not to eat anything he had not killed. The birds for which he had longed were irresistible so, cat-like, he picked one up in his mouth, carried it away a short distance, and then, finding it not too rank, ate it. After that he started to get another one. Like the one he had just eaten, the bird had been mutilated by some ruthless hand; a part of its back had been torn away. Warruk started off with the prize in his mouth but before he had taken many steps a strange feeling came over him. A shudder passed over his powerful frame and he became violently ill. He dropped the bird he was carrying and rushing to the stream drank greedily, for a burning thirst had now taken possession of him; and then followed nausea so violent that it left him all but lifeless.

How many hours he lay on the bank of the stream, too sick to move, none can tell; but it was many. Again and again he regained his senses long enough to lap up water in great gulps and that always seemed, at least partially, to quench the fire that was consuming him within. When a measure of relief finally came he crawled weakly from the neighborhood, determined never to visit it again.

In some manner Warruk connected his predicament with the new tracks in the mud and the strange scent they conveyed. And he was right, for the first time in his life he had come upon the trail of man, and upon man's handiwork in all its most pitiless destructiveness.

What had happened was this: A party of plume hunters had discovered the feeding-ground of the egrets; had gathered up great quantities of the imprisoned fish and after poisoning them had redistributed them over the surface of the water. The birds ate and died. Then the men returned, stripped the plumes from their luckless victims and departed in their canoes. The young in the platform nests in the forest island called in vain for their elders and for the food they brought, at first lustily, then feebly until they starved to death. Then the vultures came, making a loathsome feast on the bodies of the little creatures that had perished so miserably. The work of extermination was complete.

Warruk advanced slowly and cautiously for now he knew that in the strange country danger lurked—danger of a kind unknown to him and of a subtle quality. If the creatures whose footprints he had seen and with whose scent the border of the marsh was redolent could outwit the wary birds that had always eluded him, what surprise might not they hold in store for him?

But, there was that insistent urge that bade him advance. And, too, Tumwah was stretching his devastating hand toward the lower country. The animals that had found a temporary refuge in the oasis were moving onward also, for the water in the pools was vanishing and the vegetation began to droop. Day by day the sun's rays grew more intense until it seemed they must set the world afire.

Two weeks later Warruk reached the margin of the great river that wound its sluggish way through a strip of forested country hugging its banks. But, mighty stream though it was, it had not been spared the wrath of Tumwah's onslaught. Where ordinarily a wide expanse of water greeted the eye, stretching in a ruffled, brown sheet to the dimly outlined fringe of palms on the distant bank, there was now a series of sun-baked sandbars several miles wide and many, many miles long. The river, still of imposing width, flowed through a channel in the center of the sandy wastes but bore little resemblance to its former awe-inspiring grandeur.

Flocks of gulls and skimmers flew shrieking and wheeling in masses overhead or ran excitedly over the sand. Crocodiles, too, were in evidence, for here there were water and food so there was not the need to bury themselves in the mud and in a semi-conscious condition await the coming of a friendlier season, as did their fellows in the inland country.

It was indeed a new and strange world veiled with an impenetrable air of mystery and romance.

At night the stars glimmered with an uncanny brightness. The vast sandbanks, heretofore peopled only by the shrieking birds and rows of crocodiles, assumed a different and even more animated appearance. For, with nightfall turtles in legion forsook their abode on the muddy river-bottom and sought the hot sand to lay their eggs. The shuffle of their feet and the scraping of their heavy shells was audible some distance away in a muffled conglomeration of sounds. They moved rather rapidly for such cumbersome creatures and made quickly for the highest points in the sandy wastes where with much effort a hole was scooped and the eggs deposited; then the excavation was neatly filled. The turtles hurried back to the water to remain in the depths of the muddy river until the following year.

Warruk looked in amazement at the seething mass of life.

"Ca-urgh, ca-urgh, ca-urgh, urgh, urgh, urgh," a gruff, coughing roar pierced the still night air from near the deep channel and Warruk's muscles tensed as he listened to the sound. It was the voice of one of his kind. An instant later his own voice rang loud and sharp in answer to the challenge and he started across the crumbling sand toward the water. In the distance a dark form loomed up, motionless as a statue and Warruk too stopped the moment he beheld the stranger. Then the latter raised his head skyward and again the roar, savage, spiteful and bespeaking rage shattered the air. What right had this newcomer to intrude on his hunting-ground?

Warruk noted the smaller size of the resentful one; also that his coat was, of course, spotted. He listened patiently until the roar had ended. Then, with a mighty bellow he strode slowly toward his challenger.

The latter stood his ground for a moment. But suddenly he perceived the color of the intruder and that one look was all that was required. Without taking a second he dashed to the river, plunged into the water and swam for the other side. Members of his tribe, of his own spotted color he feared not and was ready to battle with at any time. But, when the apparition of a black individual appeared he retreated frantically, relinquishing his choice feeding-ground without a show of resentment or any desire to question the newcomer's status.

So it had been always. The other jaguars shunned Warruk because they feared him. And being thus made an outcast intensified the black one's naturally savage and truculent disposition.

Warruk hurled a bellow of ridicule after the fugitive and then turned his attention to the food bedecking the sand.

One blow on the head was sufficient to end the earthly career of the largest turtle but the bony armor encasing the body was not so easy to dispose of; it required a number of powerful strokes of the great, armed paws to crush the plates or break them apart and thus make accessible the flesh within.

Those nights on the sandflats flanking the great silent river were full of alluring enchantments. Never had the moon shed such velvety, silvery light; never had the stars flashed with such supernatural brightness; nor had meteorites drawn such lines of fiery brilliance across the heavens.

The days were hot. In fact, the sun seemed to dart out tongues of fire that threatened to lap up all the water in the mighty river. But, throughout the night a gentle breeze stirred near the border of the stream reviving the life that gathered at the haven of refuge and plenty.

Warruk was now master of all. He strode across the sandy wastes with majestic steps and swaying head. None questioned his position or disputed his way. And when, as sometimes happened, a challenging cry rang out across the water from some distant inlet and his own hoarse voice was raised in answer to the roar, it was never repeated. News travels fast in the wilderness, and in a mysterious way. And his presence was known far and wide and he was avoided accordingly. So he went his way, feasting on the turtles and their eggs which he soon learned to dig out of their hiding places, and on the fish that came up into the shallow water to spawn and which were so easy to catch.

Then, one night the great thrill of his life came. Far, far down the river Warruk saw a light. Was it possible that one of the stars had fallen from overhead to take up its abode on the earth? Had one of the streamers of fire that criss-crossed the sky landed on the sand to flicker out its life?

No! The stars above flashed as insolently as ever and their piercing shafts of light were of a steel-blue color; the meteorites still streaked their orange-red trails across the curtain of black. But this light in the distance, growing constantly brighter, was a deep red. It was different from anything he had ever seen. It seemed to beckon to him and for many minutes he stood gazing at it, trying to fathom its meaning.

If Warruk had only known! The bright light might be said to represent his own star at its zenith. He had reached the parting of the ways. In the height of his development and powers he could either maintain his supremacy of the wilderness for years to come or risk everything in battle with creatures of superior intelligence who possessed a high degree of cunning, who fought unfairly and of whom he knew nothing. What hope of survival had he, or any of the inhabitants of the wilderness in such unequal combat?

Warruk looked steadfastly at the light flickering on the riverbank, far, far away. He turned his gaze in the other direction where lay the untold miles of untrodden wastes that were his kingdom, to have and to hold so long as he chose. He faced the river; the turtle battalions were emerging from the water as before, causing scarcely a ripple. Again he looked at the fire, took a few steps toward it, halted, sniffed the air, and checked a roar that welled up in his throat. He had reached a decision.

If there were new worlds to conquer he would invade them, fearless, determined and confident. He reckoned not on man, the unknown, and had he known it is not improbable but that he should have acted exactly as he did. For, what is all life but a game of chance? And what is chance but a disguise for opportunity?

The first steps toward the fire had been taken. The die had been cast. Fate had stepped into Warruk's life and while luring him onward, baited with the promise of adventure the hard path that lay ahead.

Daylight was just breaking when the black Jaguar reached the vicinity of the blaze. The fire, replenished throughout the hours of darkness, had guided him unerringly on his way; but with the coming of dawn it had been allowed to dwindle down until nothing remained but a bed of embers and even these died when the sun shot over the horizon.

The place reeked of an uncommon though not unknown odor and the sand was trodden into paths by long, broad feet. Once before he had come upon the same tracks and scent; and it came to him in a flash that it had been along the border of the marsh and near the stream flowing out of it where the dead egrets lay in heaps and rows, their feathers ruffled by the wind. And the recollection also came of the illness he had suffered as the result of eating of the birds. The creatures that could work such havoc among the shy egrets and the after-effects of whose presence was violent sickness, were not to be taken too lightly and Warruk felt a distrust of the insidious power they must possess.

He circled the place, once, twice, in search of further clues to the strange inhabitants. They were not lacking in the form of heaps of turtle shells, bones, feathers, fish scales and numerous other objects. But, of the creatures themselves he saw nothing. His keen ears, however caught the sound of deep breathing that came from a group of leaf-thatched shelters dotting the sand.

Warruk lingered about the encampment until the sun was well above the treetops. Then he entered the edge of the thick cover bordering the flat stretch where the strange creatures dwelt and which was the beginning of the forest. The wind, blowing the sand before it in rippling waves, soon filled the imprints of his massive feet and obliterated all trace of his visit. And this was on the very night following the gathering of the Indians when Choflo, headman, had announced that the wrath of Tumwah, God of Drought, was about to descend upon the land.

* * * * *

The crocodile had been slain by the hunters and its skin removed with much ceremony. The head, with its leering expression and long rows of peg-like teeth was raised on a pole in the center of the encampment. The flesh of the reptile was roasted at night. A great fire was kindled and as the flames mounted skyward they threw a red glow upon the dusky faces of the Indians. Not in seven years had such a huge fire been made and its glare could be seen many miles up and down the river, in regions never penetrated by the watch or cooking fires. It was this light that Warruk had seen as he patrolled his beat and that had lured him from the country he knew to the region inhabited by ruthless man.

After the thick sections of white flesh had been roasted until they resembled charcoal they were raked out with long poles. Everyone partook in silence—grim silence that was ominous. And after a while Choflo danced a sacred dance around the fire. He wore an anklet of dried seeds that rattled above his right foot; as he stepped over the sand in rhythm with the music of a wind instrument made of a long-necked calabash, and the thrumming of a snake-skin drum played by two assistants, he called upon Tumwah to look down upon them and to pity their unhappy plight. Then both dancer and feasters went quietly to their shelters and the fire was allowed to die down.

Daylight, as always, came with an appalling suddenness and soon the sun was high in the heavens with searing rays that transfixed the earth as relentlessly as before. Tumwah had not taken note of the sacrifice. He was more than angry; he was enraged, for his onslaught was more terrible than ever. Even at this early hour the heat-waves danced and quivered in the still air in a blinding, confusing manner.

The men departed from the camping site while the day was young. They pushed their long, narrow, dugout canoes into the water, clambered aboard, took up the short paddles and pushed to the other side which had not, as yet, been despoiled of its buried treasures. There they fell to work probing the sand with sharpened sticks and when it yielded easily to the thrust they dug with their hands until the pocket containing the oblong, tough-skinned eggs had been uncovered. These they gathered into baskets to be emptied into the canoes so fast as they were filled. All day long they toiled giving not a thought to the women and children who had been left behind.

Warruk, from his place of concealment in the border of the thick jungle had not for a moment taken his eyes from the human habitations. He had seen the men emerge from the shelters and paddle away. And he marvelled at the strange creatures that were taller than any of the animals of the forest or plain and that walked on two feet. He felt no antagonism toward them, no desire to attack or slay. He was overawed, for he could not comprehend them and that filled him with a burning curiosity to know more about them, to see them at closer range.

So long as the queer creatures were present in numbers he dared not show himself for he well remembered his experience with the peccary herd whose strength lay in numbers.

The long awaited opportunity came toward mid-afternoon. From the collection of huts, crackling and warping in the heat came a solitary form. It was not unlike the others that had appeared earlier in the day except that it was very much smaller and seemed to walk with uncertain steps.

The little man-creature faltered to the shady side of one of the shelters and sat down. Then it began to dig in the sand and toss handfuls of it up into the air.

Warruk watched with glowing eyes. Here was his opportunity. Almost before he knew it he had slipped out of the thick cover and was gliding shadow-like across the sandbar. So silent and so stealthy were his movements that the child was not aware of his approach, and even when he halted and crouched low not more than ten paces away his presence still was unsuspected.

In his turn, the Jaguar was so interested, so fascinated by the child that he was oblivious to all else. Had he been suffering from hunger his intentions might have been different. But with food so plentiful, the thought of attack had not even occurred to him.

Mata, mother of the child soon missed her offspring and went in search of it. She suppressed a scream of terror as she took in the scene of the great, black beast apparently about to spring and dashed back into the shelter for the long, keen-bladed knife that was always kept handy for any emergency. Without thought of danger to herself she flew at Warruk as only a mother can in defense of her young. The machete was upraised and flashed in the sunlight. It was not until this occurred that the mighty cat became conscious of her presence, so absorbed had he been. At the same time a streak of fire shot through his shoulder where the point of the knife slashed its way through skin and muscle. He gave one cry of pain and surprise, leaped to one side, and turning bounded away to the forest. The Indian gathered up her little one and fled into the hut. Her screams now brought out the others who had remained at home, among them Choflo, and as they rushed from the low doorways they had just time enough to see the black form disappear into the thicket.

That night pandemonium reigned in camp. The men built another great fire and chanted prayers for deliverance while the women squatted in the outer circle with swaying bodies and raised their voices in loud lamentations mingled with praises for the valiant Mata who had dared attack and repel the savage animal.

As for Choflo, he sat silently on one side throughout the demonstration and consulted the contents of his charm-bag. There were the teeth of crocodiles, pebbles worn round and smooth in the riverbed and a tuft of snowy feathers taken from the shoulders of a luckless egret. Finally he arose and raising his hands commanded all to be silent.

"Tumwah has not been pleased with our offering. He is more angry than before," he announced in a sepulchral voice. "My magic tells me so. The terrible god has sent a Black Phantom from the lower world to haunt us and to render our lives more miserable. Dark and filled with forebodings is the season that has descended upon us."

His hearers rocked to and fro and smote their breasts in unison with the sorcerer.

"We must bring a greater sacrifice. Twenty turtles must be offered to Tumwah. Then, and only then will he recall the evil spirit that lurks in our midst. Otherwise we shall perish."

Without a word of complaint or remonstrance the men boarded their canoes and pushed out into the river, for the turtles were kept in corrals on the other side. When they returned, long after, the creatures, their feet bound together, were heaped on the fire to which the women had added bundles of driftwood. And as the struggling turtles slowly expired the men danced about the fire to the sounds of hissing flesh and crackling embers.

"Now go!" Choflo commanded after the flames had spent their fury. "Go to your shelters. I alone will remain to study the heavens and read the pleasure of the god."

But no sooner had the dancers departed than Choflo too entered his hut to sleep.

The path was now open to Warruk. He had watched the fire and the dancing but there was no longer awe in his heart for the man-creatures. A savage rage and the desire for revenge had taken its place. His shoulder pained him frightfully from the cut inflicted by Mata. Why had he been attacked when his intentions had been of the friendliest? All the other creatures of the wilderness respected his position and these too should have their lesson. He would show them the savagery of which he was capable. Never again would he trust man; he was cruel and unfair. Two experiences had taught him that—first the poisoned bird and now the unprovoked attack. Hereafter he would match his cunning with the man-creatures and if necessary, it would be a battle to the bitter end. Vast as the wilderness was, it was too small to harbor both the man-creatures and himself.

Warruk glided out upon the sand so silently and stealthily that he was like a shadow flowing over the ground. Straight as an arrow he went, retracing his steps of the previous afternoon and in a few minutes he stood before the entrance of Mata's shelter. None stirred inside but his ears caught the sound of deep breathing. There was no hesitation, no indecision. One quick bound and he had entered. His nose guided him to the guilty one; a step in the right direction and his long, white fangs had closed on Mata's shoulder and he began dragging her to the doorway.

Loud shrieks came from the terrified woman. She clutched wildly at her assailant and at the poles of the hut but her strength was as nothing compared to the power that held her in its grip. And the Jaguar, forgetful of all else in this moment of triumph felt a savage exultation in the anticipation of devouring his victim and thus proving that after all he was master of all that walked the earth.

The encampment had been aroused by the cries and was in a turmoil. Men rushed to the heap of smouldering embers, seized thick branches still glowing at one end and waved them aloft until they burst into flame. Others held spears and arrows in their hands, and came running to the rescue of the woman.

At first Warruk paid no heed to the mob but when a flaming brand was flung into his face, burning him painfully, he was compelled to relinquish his victim. But he did not retreat; instead, he drew himself up to his full height and faced his attackers.

A second blazing torch was hurled in his direction and he dashed it aside with a blow of his massive paw. Then came a spear, the point barely penetrating the skin of his flank. Warruk turned with a snarl and crunched the shaft between his teeth. Blazing clubs and spears were now falling in a shower; with a terrible roar he charged through the barrage of missiles into the midst of the yelling group, striking to right and to left. The men, panic-stricken, dropped their weapons and fled to their shelters. When none was in sight the great cat voiced his victory in a series of cries and grunts that made the very ground tremble. He was lord of the wilderness; even the man-creatures with all their wiles and cunning had acknowledged his supremacy and had departed precipitously, leaving him in possession of the field. Another savage roar of triumph and he strode majestically to the forest.

It was several hours before the terrified Indians dared leave the security of their shelters and then only at the imperious summons of Choflo's voice. Three fires were hastily kindled and between them the council sat feeling sure that neither beast nor demon would dare brave the blazing barrier.

"Again our offering has been spurned by Tumwah," Choflo moaned, "and now I know the reason why. A spirit of evil has escaped from the place of darkness and is ravaging the earth; it has entered the body of a monstrous tiger and has changed it into a black demon, a Black Phantom whose very appearance is enough to strike terror to the bravest heart. Twice has he made onslaughts on us. Who can tell what may next occur!"

"It is indeed a spirit from the world of darkness," Sagguk panted, his superstitious fancy encouraged by Choflo's words. Sagguk had thrown the spear that grazed Warruk's flank. "For, did I not thrust my spear full into his heart so that the blood gushed out in a crimson torrent? Yet the demon turned, grasped the shaft in his teeth and drew it out without sign of pain."

"And my arrows bounded off his neck and shoulders as from the horny back of a turtle," another added. "The phantom bears a charmed life. Our weapons cannot harm this monster from the other world that has come to destroy us."

"Listen!" Choflo commanded. "Thus have I solved the mystery. Tumwah is not angry with us. He is angry with this evil spirit which is usurping his power on earth. Therefore, by drying up the land and the water Tumwah hopes to destroy the great tiger so that the demon must leave the dead body and return to the place of blackness from which it escaped, even if in so doing all others that live must perish in the battle. To save ourselves we must kill the Black Phantom."

"But, have we not seen how useless our weapons are against this monster?" Sagguk interposed.

"True. But I will prepare a charmed arrow with a poisoned point. Someone must go to seek out the lair of the great tiger that harbors the evil spirit and slay it."

"Is it not true, all-knowing one," Yaro, who was of great age ventured to inquire, "that he who slays a tiger, possessed of an evil spirit though it be, shall come under a spell? And that the spell shall not be broken until his nearest of kin shall have forfeited his life in atonement for the deed?"

"It is true. But what is one life compared to the lives of all of us? Better that one die than all. But the honor that shall fall upon the slayer will be great for, even as he sends the charmed arrow crashing on its mission of beneficent destruction knowing that in so doing he is sacrificing the life of his most beloved, he shall also know that he is the savior of the race."

Choflo paused so that his words might have their full effect. Then he continued. "Now go!" he commanded, rising. "And let no man look toward the entrance of his shelter, for before the sun rises the Great Spirit will decide. A white feather resting in the sand before the doorway will announce the selection of the honored one, who must pursue and slay the Black Phantom. The responsibility will be great, for upon the success or failure of the chosen one will depend not only the survival of the race but of all life on earth."

Once again the group dissolved itself. And as the frightened people huddled in their huts the voice of Choflo, raised in incantations and accompanied by the rattle of charms floated out over the still night air. After a time the sounds were hushed.

The silence was ominous. The suspense was awful. Now as never before did terror enter the hearts of the Indians cowering and trembling in their dark hovels. The white feather was on its way to announce the fateful selection of the Great Spirit as interpreted by Choflo, headman, sorcerer and oracle of the simple-minded Cantanas.



CHAPTER VII

THE WHITE FEATHER

Scarcely had the sun risen on the morning following the appearance of the Black Phantom when the encampment was astir, for each was eager to discover whether or not he had been selected for the perilous task of slaying the mysterious visitor. The men stole out of their shelters just as the rays of the brilliant orb bathed the level sea of green treetops of the Amazonian jungle with a flood of roseate light, and scanned the sand in front of their doorways.

Oomah found the symbol, a tuft of snowy, drooping aigrettes that quivered and glistened at the slightest touch. And he stood reverently gazing at the sacred object until Choflo's drum, followed by the sound of his voice bade the men gather in solemn conclave.

"Upon Oomah has fallen the mission of saving the earth from a terrible end," the sorcerer said gravely, "and the selection of the Great Spirit has been a wise one."

"But, am I worthy to be entrusted with such a holy undertaking?" Oomah asked incredulously, holding the plumes in his hand.

"The decision of the Great Spirit has answered that. You must prove yourself worthy or pay the penalty. Either you will slay the Black Phantom and bring back evidence of the deed, or you will not return at all."

"I question not the wisdom of Choflo who understands the mystic things that are withheld from the rest of us," old Yaro meekly protested, "but, had it not been decided that Oomah was next to be leader of the tribe? As the coming headman, should not his life be guarded? Should not he be shielded from peril? If he perish in the attempt to slay the Black Phantom; or, if he should fail and thus become an exile, we should lose him forever."

"If Oomah be lost another will be found to take his place. Wana, son of my sister, is a promising youth. And besides, there is another reason why Oomah has been chosen."

"What is that reason?" Yaro persisted.

"Do you not recall your own words, Yaro, uttered during the last hours of darkness? 'He who slays a tiger, possessed of an evil spirit though it be, shall lose his next of kin by another tiger appearing suddenly in the role of avenger?"

"Yes, it is true."

"Oomah has no next of kin. He is alone in the world. He has neither father, mother, sister, brother, wife nor child. Therefore the spirit of vengeance will be cheated for there is no one to slay. There is no other man in the tribe without family upon which revenge could fall."

"As I said before," Yaro admitted, "Choflo knows all things. He speaks truly and wisely." Then turning, he muttered to himself, "But he is determined to be rid of Oomah so that Wana, son of his sister may become leader of the people."

"The magic arrow shall be prepared at once, for only by it can the Black Phantom be slain; heed well my words, Oomah, and use no other. You will depart at nightfall. A long trail and a hard one lies before you with death waiting at the end for the loser."

All through the day Oomah moved as in a trance. The enormity of the undertaking dazed him. Not that he feared the jungle or the hardships of long wandering, for to pursue and to slay the beasts of the wilderness was a part of his life. But, this was a mission of a different character. The very existence of the whole tribe depended on him; and more than that. If he failed, the whole earth, as he knew it, would be laid waste; Tumwah would never stop his fiery onslaught until the Black Phantom had been slain. Had not Choflo, who knew all things, said so? Still, he could not but feel that the sorcerer had been at least to some extent influenced by personal motives in interpreting the wishes of the Great Spirit. Did Choflo hope that the quarry would kill him, or at least elude him? In either event he would be out of the way. The whole thing seemed very mysterious but he had no alternative but to obey.

Oomah was young, tall and strong. As he walked there was the rippling play of well-formed muscle under his brown skin. His black eyes, set at a slight angle somewhat like an Oriental's, glowed with the fire of determination from under the heavy shock of hair that covered his head.

The women peeped out of the doorways as he passed, with looks akin to veneration. Liked by all, the sacred mission on which he was about to depart enhanced the esteem in which he had been held. And while their eyes were filled with admiration, their hearts were full of pity and sadness. For, with the coming of night Oomah would pass from among them like the fading of a shadow when the sun sets.

Preparations were at once started for the parting feast. Hunters had gone in quest of game. The women ground yuca roots for fresh cassava bread. And the children, with tear-stained faces, gathered wood that had been stranded along the edge of the sandbar. But the youth wandered about listlessly, barely conscious of the activities that were going on all around him.

Choflo had gone to the forest early in the forenoon. At mid-day he returned, carrying a bundle of slender stems in his hand. Looking neither to right nor to left, he entered his hut and drew a curtain woven of rushes across the doorway so that none might behold him plying his sacred calling.

Safe in the seclusion of his abode, he dug a hole in the sandy floor and buried the stems he had brought so ostentatiously from the forest; then he took down a bundle of arrows from under the thatched roof and selected one after a good deal of scrutiny of the lot. It was long—six feet or more, with a slender, reed shaft and a needle-like point of tough palmwood fitted and glued into the stem. A short thorn, fastened to the point with fine twine, formed a barb so that the arrow could not be withdrawn once it had entered the flesh. On each side of the base was a split eagle's feather attached with colored thread. The feathers were not fastened in a line parallel with the shaft, but curved slightly; this gave the arrow a rotary motion in flight like that imparted to the bullet by a rifled gun barrel and made for accuracy in shooting. He now took a lump of resinous gum from his charm-bag and rubbed it on the point of the arrow until the latter was covered with a thick, black coat, resembling old beeswax. A cap of a joint of slender bamboo was fitted over the end of the missile to prevent the rain from washing away the supposed poison, and it was ready to be delivered to Oomah.