Adventures of Piang the Moro Jungle Boy Page 3

  It was a beautiful day. To us, the heat would have been stifling,the humidity distressing, but Piang loved it all and joyfully lookedforward to the trip up the river.

  The trying ceremony over, the two candidates had hurried off to preparefor the long journey. Cumbersome garments were discarded, and Piangwas clothed in the easy costume of the jungle traveler; breech-clout,head-cloth, a sarong, flung carelessly over one shoulder, and a_panuelo_ (handkerchief) with a few necessary articles tied securelyin it. His weapons were a bolo, a creese, and a bow and arrow. Piang'sbare limbs, bronze and powerful, glistened in the brilliant sunshine,and he was very picturesque as he paddled along the stream, dippinghis slim hands into the current, arresting objects that floated by. Hehad made his _banco_ (canoe) himself; had even felled the palma bravaalone, and had spent days burning and chopping the center away, untilat last he was the proud possessor of one of the swiftest canoes onthe river. As on ice-boats, long outriggers of slender poles extendedacross the banco, and the ends were joined by other bamboo poles, sothat the canoe looked like a giant dragon-fly as it skimmed lightlyover the water.

  Piang stopped at a lily-pad to gather some of the inviting blossoms,but regretted it instantly, as a swarm of mosquitos rose and envelopedhim. He thought to escape their vicious attacks by paddling faster,but it was no use; they had come to stay. Trailing after him a longuneven stream, they seemed to take turns in tormenting him, and as theleaders became satiated, they fell back, allowing the rear rankers tobuzz forward and renew the attack. Piang longed for a certain kindof moss that grows at the roots of trees, but his keen eyes couldnot discover any.

  It was almost all he could do, to paddle his banco and fight the pests;his sarong was wrapped tightly around him, but it was no protectionagainst the savage mosquitos, and he was about to drop in the waterdespite the crocodiles, when he spied some of the moss. With a cryof relief, he headed toward the bank and managed to pull some intothe boat. Taking from his bundle a queerly shaped, wooden object,he spun it like a top, rapidly, backward and forward in a pan untilsmoke appeared at the point of the rod. Powdering some bark, he threwit into the pan, and when it began to blaze, he added some of thedamp moss. Gradually a thick, pungent smoke arose. It curled upward,enveloping him and almost choking him with its overwhelming aroma,but it dispelled the mosquitos immediately, and Piang continued hisjourney unmolested.

  He was very happy that morning, for was he not free, honored by histribe, and engaged in the dearest of pastimes, adventure? The poorlittle girls have no choice in their occupations, for as soon as theyare large enough, their tasks are allotted to them; they must sit allday and weave, or wear out their little backs pounding rice in the bigwooden bowls. But the man child is free. The jungle is his task. Hemust learn to trap game, to find where the fruits abound, and to avoidthe many dangers that wait for him. Piang broke into a native chant:

  "Ee-ung pee-ang, unk ah-wang!" As it resounded through the forest inhis high-pitched, nasal tones, he was answered from the trees, andlittle, gray monkeys came swinging along to see who their visitor mightbe. Piang mischievously tossed a piece of the smoking moss to the bankand paused to see the fun. Their almost human coughs, as the smokewas wafted their way, made him laugh. They scampered down, tumblingover each other in their anxiety to be first, and one little fellow,who succeeded in out-distancing the others, stuck its hand into thesmoldering embers. Astonished, at first, it nursed the injured member,but gradually becoming infuriated, it finally shrieked and jumped upand down. It began to pelt the smudge madly with stones, chatteringexcitedly to its companions, as if describing the tragedy. The othershad climbed back into the trees, paying no attention to Piang, butkeeping a watchful eye on the danger that had been hurled among them.

  Piang lazily plied his paddle, laughing to himself at the foolishnessof monkeys. He tried to peer through the dense trees that crowdedtoward the river, hiding the secrets of the jungle. He wanted to knowthose secrets, wanted to match his strength against the numberlessdangers that are always veiled by that twilight, which the sun strivesin vain to penetrate, year after year, turning away discouraged. Pianglistlessly examined the river, little knowing the perilous adventurethat waited for him just beyond the bend.

  One lone log, majestic in its solitude, floated down the river,resisting the efforts of tenacious creepers to bind and hold itprisoner. Piang poked it with his paddle. Another was floating inits wake, and he idly tapped this, also. It stirred, turned over,and disappeared under the boat.

  "_Boia!_" ("Crocodile!") breathed the startled boy. He had disturbedone of the sleeping monsters! Piang's heart beat very fast, and ashudder passed through him as he felt something bump the bottom ofthe boat. The crocodile was just beneath him and if it rose suddenly,it would upset him. One, two, three seconds he waited, but they werethe longest seconds Piang had ever known. There was a slight movementastern; the boat tipped forward, swerved, and before Piang could righthimself, a vicious snort startled him. The crocodile was lashing thewater with its tail, and the light shell was pitching and rollingdangerously. Piang scrambled to his knees.

  There are only two vulnerable spots on a full-grown crocodile;under the left fore leg, where the heart can be pierced, and thejugular vein, easily reached through the opened jaws. Piang, inthe bow of the boat, paused, arm raised, waiting for a favorableopportunity. The canoe was being swept backward, stern first, andthe crocodile swam close, nosing it, making it careen perilously. Anymoment the merciless jaws might close over the brittle wood, crushingit to splinters. The small, bleary eyes seemed to devour Piang asthey tortured him with suspense, but he patiently waited for hischance, knowing that he would only have one. The banco gave a jerkas it bumped into an obstruction, and the impact forced it outwarda few feet. The moment had come. As the crocodile plunged forward,Piang thrust his spear into its breast. There was a gurgling sound,a swishing of the water, and the Ugly thing rolled over on its back.

  Piang never could remember just how he escaped. From every shelteredcove, from behind innocent-looking snags, appeared the heads of hungrycrocodiles, awakened by the fight. Luckily they were attracted by theblood of Piang's victim, and he skilfully avoided the clumsy animalsas they rushed after the fast disappearing meal. One powerful monstersucceeded in dragging the body into the rushes, and the noise of thedispute, as they fought over their unfortunate mate, nauseated theboy. His arms were tired and stiff and his head was reeling, but hebravely worked at the paddle until he reached a bend of the river. Ithad been a narrow escape, and Piang had learned a lesson. Never againwould he idly thump logs in a stream!

  The boat suddenly came to a standstill. It was turning as if ona pivot. It had been caught in one of the numerous eddies at themouth of a small tributary stream. Vigorously he strove to gainthe channel. He hugged the bank, hoping to free himself from thewhirlpool, but his outrigger became entangled in some weeds, andthe boat slowly began to tip. Frantically he reached toward thetall nipa-palms, nodding over his head, but their flimsy stalks gaveeasily, and he was almost thrown out of the boat. The sparkling water,as if laughing at his predicament, caressed the helpless craft,drawing it closer and closer to its bosom. The banco gave a lurch;it was tipping; it shipped a quantity of water. All Piang's weightthrown against the upturned outrigger had no effect. Helplessly,he looked into the green, whirling depths.

  There was only one thing to be done. Taking a long breath, he grabbedhis creese and dived. Down, down; the current pulled and tugged athim; the rush of sand and mud blinded him, and he was almost swept outinto the river. But he managed to catch hold of the roots that weretwined about the boat and finally cut the banco free. With a bound itstarted down the river. The empty shell, at the mercy of the waves,danced and frolicked like a crazy thing, and Piang was almost stunnedby a blow from the outrigger as it passed him.

  The boat was rushing right back into the midst of the crocodiles,but he bravely struck out after it. There was no chance for him if hefailed to reach it. The whispering rushes and feathery palms at th
ewater's edge hid evil-smelling mud, festering with fever, the homeof reptiles and crocodiles. Desperately the boy strove to overtakethe boat, and just as he was giving up hope, a friendly snag temptedthe runaway to pause, and Piang's strong, young hand closed over theoutrigger. Then began the task of climbing back. A sudden movementmight release the banco, and it would continue its mad flight, which hewould be powerless to stop. Keeping his eye on the frail-looking snag,he threw himself on his back in the water and worked his way along theoutrigger as he would climb a tree. Finally his hand touched the bodyof the boat, and, cautiously turning over, he sat straddling the bambooframe. It was all he could do to keep from jumping into the boat,but he restrained his impatience and started worming over the side.

  Half-way in his heart gave a leap! He could hear the swish-swish ofthe water on the other side of the banco as something made its waytoward him. The eddy was the only thing that saved him, for he couldsee the dread thing twirling round and round as it tried to reachhim. The boy was almost paralyzed with fear. As long as the crocodilewas on the other side of the boat, he was safe, but now--the snagcreaked, stirred.

  Piang made one heroic effort, lifted himself clear of the water,and fell exhausted into the boat. He was not a moment too soon. Thecrunching sound, as the support began to give under the strain, was afit accompaniment to the snarling and snapping of the crocodile, which,deprived of its prey, was lashing the water, trying to reach the frailoutriggers. Piang thought he had never been swept through the waterso rapidly, and that he would never gain control of his boat. Louderand clearer came the sounds of the fighting monsters beyond the bend,and there between him and safety lurked his latest enemy.

  An impertinent, ridiculous twitter came from a tiny scarlet-crownedsongster, as if it were trying to advise and direct the hard-pressedboy. Its solemn, round eyes stared at him, reproving and admonishinghim for his foolhardiness. Piang, on his knees, struggling with thecurrent, was unaware of his audience. Gradually he worked the boataround and headed up-stream, straight for the crocodile. Surprised bythis sudden change in tactics, it snorted and opened its repulsivejaws. Piang had hoped to catch it in this position, so, pressingforward as rapidly as possible, he took careful aim and hurled hisknife into its mouth. Rising to his feet, spear poised, he waitedto see if the knife would be effective. The creature floundered andslashed the water, gave a blood-curdling bellow, and rolled over onits back, dead. A crocodile fights with its last breath to remain onits belly, for if not dead, it drowns as soon as it turns over.

  Piang wanted his weapon. The body of the animal was caught by thecurrent and shot rapidly past him down-stream, but the boy, warnedby the commotion further down, hesitated to follow it. He realized,however, that his knife was very valuable to him, and that he wassure to have urgent need of it again, so he started after the uglybody. The sparkling wavelets sported and capered with their grewsomeburden, sometimes dashing it against some stray log, again bearing itfar across the river as if purposely assisting it to elude its pursuer.

  Piang skilfully guided his banco in its wake, and finally succeeded inthrusting his spear into its side, and pulled it toward the bank. Theknife was embedded far down in the terrible jaws, and Piang wonderedif he dared reach into them. He looked at the tusk-like teeth, thefirst he had ever seen at close quarters, but he remembered with ashudder the wounds that he had helped care for--wounds made by suchpoisonous tusks.

  Mustering his courage, he slowly extended his hand into its mouth. Thebig, wet tongue flopped against his hand; the powerful jaws quiveredspasmodically, and the hot, fetid steam from the throat sickenedhim. His knife! He must get it! Desperately he tugged at the handle;it would not loosen its hold. Cold sweat broke out all over Piang. Anew sound arrested him. The crocodiles below had already smelled theblood of the second victim and were plunging up-stream to find it. Theboy thought the knife would never come out. He worked and twisted,and finally it gave so suddenly, that he lost his balance, and by aquick turn of his body just saved himself from another ducking. Itwas lucky for Piang that he finished when he did, for around thecurve in the river, headed directly toward him, came the crowding,vicious scavengers.

  Gathering his wits quickly, he pushed forward. The snorting andfighting grew more and more distant; the peaceful river stretchedout before him like a silver road beckoning him to safety, and heoffered a prayer of thanksgiving to Allah, the Merciful, that he hadbeen spared that awful death.