Tom Swift in Captivity

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CHAPTER XI

CAUGHT IN A LIVING ROPE

"Quick! Peg out the mules!" cried San Pedro, after one look at the
onrushing horses. "Drive the stakes well down! Tie them fast and
then get behind those rocks! Lively!"

He cried his orders to the natives in Spanish, at the same time
motioning to Tom and Ned.

"Get off your mules!" he went on. "Peg them out. Peg out the others,
and then run for it!"

"Run for it?" repeated Tom, "Do you think I'm going to leave my
outfit in the midst of that stampede?" and he waved his hand toward
the thundering, galloping wild horses which were coming nearer every
moment. "Get out the electric rifles, and we'll turn that stampede.
I'm not going to run."

"Bless my saddle!" cried Mr. Damon. "This is awful! There must be a
thousand of them."

"Nearer two!" cried Ned, who was struggling to loosen the straps
that bound his electric rifle to the side of his mule. Already the
pack animals as well as those ridden by the members of the giant-
hunting party were showing signs of excitement. They seemed to want
to join the stampeding horses.

"Peg our animals out! Peg them out! Make them so they can't join the
others!" yelled San Pedro. "It's our only chance!"

"I believe he's right!" cried Mr. Damon. "Tom, if we wait until
those maddened brutes are up to us they'll fairly sweep ours along
with them, and there's no telling where we'll end up. I think we'd
better follow his advice and tie our mules as strongly as we can.
Then we can go over there by the rocks, and fire at the wild horses.
We may be able to turn them aside."

"Guess that's right," agreed the young inventor after a moment's
thought. "Come on, Ned. Peg out!"

"Peg out! Peg out!" yelled the natives, and then began a lively
scene. Pegging stakes were in readiness, and, attached to the bridle
of each mule was a strong, rawhide rope for tying to the stake. The
pegs were driven deeply into the ground and in a trice the animals
were made fast to them, though they snorted, and tried to pull away
as they heard the neighing of the stampeding animals and saw them
coming on with an irresistible rush.

"Hurry!" begged San Pedro, and hurry Tom, Ned and the others did.
Animal after animal was made fast--that is all but one and that bore
on its back two rather large but light boxes--the contents of the
case which Tom had rescued from the fire in the hold.

"What are you going to do with mule?" asked Ned, as he saw Tom begin
to lead the animal away, the others having been pegged out.

"I'm going to take him over to the rocks with me. I'm not going to
take any chances on this mule getting away with those things in the
boxes. Give me a hand here, and then we'll see what the electric
rifles will do against those horses."

But the one mule which Tom had elected to take with him seemed to
resent being separated from his companions. Bracing his feet well
apart, the animal stubbornly refused to move.

"Come on!" yelled Tom, pulling on the leading rope.

"Bless my porous plaster!" cried Mr. Damon. "You'd better hurry,
Tom! Those wild horses are almost on us!"

"I'm trying to hurry!" replied the young inventor, "but this mule
won't come. Ned, get behind and shove, will you?"

"Not much! I don't want to be kicked."

"Beat him! Strike him! Wait until I get a club!" yelled San Pedro.
"Come, Antonia, Selka, Balaka!" he cried, to several of the natives
who had already started for the sheltering rocks a short distance
away. "Beat the mule for Senor Swift!"

Ned joined Tom at the leading rope, and the two lads tried to pull
the animal along. Mr. Damon rushed over to lend his aid, and San
Pedro, catching up a long stick, was about to bring it down on the
mule's back. Meanwhile the stampeding animals were rushing nearer.

"Hold on dere, Massa Tom!" suddenly called Eradicate. "Yo'-all done
flustered dat mule, dat's what yo' done. Yo'-all am too much excited
'bout him. Be calm! Be calm!"

"Calm! With that bunch of wild animals bearing down on us?" shouted
Tom. "Let's see you be calm, Rad. Come on here, you obstinate
brute!" he cried, straining on the rope.

"Let me do it, Massa Tom. Let me do it," suggested the colored man
hurrying to the balky beast.

Then, as gently as if he was talking to a nervous child, and totally
oblivious to the danger of the approaching horses, Eradicate went up
to the mule's head, rubbed its ears until they pointed naturally
once more, murmured something to it, and then, taking the rope from
Ned and Tom, Eradicate led the mule along toward the rocks as easily
as if there had never been any question about going there.

"For the love of tripe! How did you do it?" asked Tom.

"Bless my peck of oats!" gasped Mr. Damon. "It's a good thing we had
Rad along!"

"All mules am alike," said the colored man with a grin. "An dish
yeah one ain't much different from mah Boomerang. I guess he's a
sorter cousin."

"Come on!" yelled San Pedro. "No time to lose. Make for the rocks!"

Tom, Ned and Mr. Damon sprinted then, and there was need to, for the
foremost of the galloping horses was not a hundred feet away. Then
came Eradicate, leading the mule that had at last consented to
hurry. The natives, with San Pedro, were already at the rocks,
waiting for the white hunters with the deadly electric rifles.

"If they stampede our mules we'll be in a pickle!" murmured Ned.

"I guess those ropes will hold unless they bite them through,"
remarked Tom.

"Yes, they sure hold," cried San Pedro, and indeed one had to shout
now to be heard above the thundering of the horses. Now the tethered
mules were lost to sight in the multitude of the other steeds all
about them.

"Come on, Ned!" yelled Tom, as he sighted his rifle. "Pump it into
them! We must turn them, or they may come over this way, and if they
do it will be all up with us."

"Shoot to kill?" asked Ned, as he drew back the firing lever of his
electric rifle.

"No, only a stunning charge. Those horses are valuable, and there's
no use killing them. All we want to do is to turn them aside."

"That's right," agreed Mr. Damon, forgetting in the excitement of
the moment to bless himself or anything. "We'll only stun them."

The rifles were quickly adjusted to send out a comparatively weak
charge of electricity, and then they were trained on the dense mass
of horses, while the three marksmen began working the firing levers.

At first, though horse after horse fell to the ground, stunned,
there was no appreciable effect on the thousands in the drove. The
poor mules were hidden from sight, though by reason of divisions in
the living stream of animals it could still be told where they were
tethered, and where the horses separated to go past them.
Fortunately the ropes and pegs held.

"Fire faster!" cried Tom. "Shoot across the front of them, and try
to turn them to one side."

From the rocks, behind which the natives and our friends crouched,
there came a steady stream of electric fire. Horse after horse went
down, stunned but not badly hurt, and in a few hours the beasts
would feel no ill effects. The firing was redoubled, and then there
came a break in the steady stream of horseflesh.

Some hesitated and sought to turn back. Others, behind, pressed them
on, and then, as if in fear at the unknown and unseen power that was
laying low animal after animal, the great body, of horses, suddenly
turned at right angles to their course and broke away. There were
now two bodies of the wild runaways, those that had passed the
tethered mules, and those that had swung off. The stampede had been
broken.

"That's the stuff!" cried Tom, jumping up from behind the rocks, and
swinging his hat. "We've turned them."

"And just in time, too," added Ned, as he joined his chum. Then all
the others leaped up, and the sight of the human beings completed
the scare. The stampeding animals swung off more than before, so
that they were nearly doubling back on their own trail. The others
thundered off, and the ground was strewn with unconscious though
unharmed animals.

"One mule gone!" cried San Pedro, hastily counting the still
tethered animals which were wildly tugging at their ropes.

"Never mind," spoke Tom, "it's the one with some of that damaged
bartering stuff I intended for trading. We can afford to lose that.
Rad, is your animal all right?"

"He suah am, Massa Tom. Dish yeah mule am almost as sensible as
Boomerang, ain't yo'?" and Eradicate patted the big animal he was
leading.

"I'll send a man down the trail, and maybe he can pick up the
missing one," said San Pedro, and while the other natives were
quieting the restless mules, one tall black man hastened in the wake
of the retreating horses.

He came back in an hour with the missing animal, that had broken its
tether rope and then, after running along with the wild horses had
evidently dropped out of the drove. Aside from the loss of a small
box, there had been no damage done, and the cavalcade was soon under
way once more, leaving the motionless horses to recover from the
effects of the electricity.

"Bless my saddle pad!" cried Mr. Damon. "I don't think I want to go
through anything like that again."

"Neither do I," agreed Tom. "We are well out of it."

"How much you take for one of them rifles?" asked San Pedro
admiringly.

"Not for sale," answered Tom with a laugh.

They camped in a fertile valley that night, and had a much-needed
rest. As yet Tom had made no inquiries as to the location of giant
land from any of the natives of the villages or towns through which
they passed. He knew as soon as he did begin asking questions, his
own men would hear of it, and they might be frightened if they knew
they were in an expedition the object of which was to capture some
of the tall men.

"We'll just go along for a few days more," said Tom, to Ned, "and
then, when I do spring my surprise, they'll be so far from home that
they won't dare turn back. In a few days I'll begin making
inquiries."

They traveled on for three days more, ever heading north, and coming
more into the warmer climate. The vegetation began to take on a more
tropical look, and finally they reached a region infested with many
wild beasts and monkeys, and with patches of dense jungle on either
side of the narrow trail. Fruits, tropical flowers and birds
abounded.

"I think we're getting there," remarked Tom, on the evening of the
third day after his talk with Ned. "San Pedro says there's quite a
village about half a day's march ahead, and I may learn something
there. I'll know by to-morrow whether we are on the right trail or
not."

The natives were getting supper, and Eradicate was busy with a meal
for the three white hunters. Mr. Damon had strolled down to the bank
of a little stream, and was looking at some small animals like foxes
that had come for their evening drink. They seemed quite fearless.

Suddenly something long, round and thick seemed to drop down out of
a tree close to the odd gentleman. So swift and noiseless was it
that Mr. Damon never noticed it. Then, like a flash something went
around him, and he let out a scream of terror.

San Pedro, who was nearest to him, saw and heard. The next instant
the black muleteer came rushing toward the camp, crying:

"He is caught in a rope! Mr. Damon is caught in a rope!"

"A rope!" repeated Ned. not understanding.

"Yes, a rope in a tree. Come quickly!"

Tom caught up one of the electric rifles and rushed forward. No
sooner had he set eyes on his friend, who was writhing about in the
folds of what looked like a big ship cable, then the young inventor
cried:

"A rope! Yes, a living rope! That's a big boa constrictor that has
Mr. Damon! Get a gun, Ned, and follow me! We must save him before he
is crushed to death!"

And the two lads rushed forward while the living rope drew its folds
tighter and tighter about the unfortunate man.

CHAPTER XII

A NATIVE BATTLE

"Bless my--!" but that was as far as poor Mr. Damon could get. The
breath was fairly squeezed out of him by the folds of the great
serpent that had dropped down out of the tree to crush him to death.
His head fell forward on his breast, and his arms were pinioned to
his sides.

"Quick, Ned!" cried Tom. "We must fire together! Be careful not to
hit Mr. Damon!"

"That's right. I'll take the snake on one side, Tom, and you on the
other!"

"No! Then we might hit each other. Come on my side. Aim for the
head, and throw in the highest charge. We want to kill, not stun!"

"Right!" gasped Ned, as he ran forward at his chum's side.

San Pedro, and the other natives, could do nothing. In the gathering
twilight, broken by the light of several campfires, they stood
helpless watching the two plucky youths advance to do battle with
the serpent. Eradicate had caught up a club, and had dashed forward
to do what he could, but Tom motioned him back.

"We can manage," spoke the young inventor.

Then he and Ned crept on with ready rifles. The snake raised its
ugly head and hissed, ceasing for a moment to constrict its coils
about the unfortunate man.

"Now's our chance--fire!" hoarsely whispered Ned.

It seemed as if the big snake heard, for, raising its head still
higher, it fairly glared at Ned and Tom. It was the very chance they
wanted, for they could now fire without the danger of hitting Mr.
Damon.

"Ready?" asked Tom of his chum in a low voice.

"Ready!" was the equally low answer.

It was necessary to kill the serpent at one shot, as to merely wound
it might mean that in its agony it would thresh about, and seriously
injure, if not kill, Mr. Damon.

"Fire!" called Tom in a whisper, and he and Ned pressed the triggers
of the electric rifles on the same instant.

There was a streak of bluish flame that cut like a sliver through
the gathering darkness, and then, as though a blight had fallen upon
it, the folds of the great snake relaxed, and Mr. Damon slipped to
the ground unconscious. The electric charges had gone fairly through
the head of the serpent and it had died instantly.

"Quick! Mr. Damon! We must get him away!" cried Tom. "He may be
dead!"

Together the chums sprang forward. The folds of the serpent had
scarcely ceased moving before the two youths snatched their friend
away. Dropping their rifles, they lifted him up to bear him to the
sleeping tent which had been erected.

"Liver pin!" suddenly ejaculated Mr. Damon. It was what he started
to say when the serpent had squeezed the breath out of him, and, on
regaining consciousness from his momentary faint, his brain carried
out the suggestion it had originally received.

"How are you?" cried Tom, nearly dropping Mr. Damon's legs in his
excitement, for he had hold of his feet, while Ned was at the head.

"Are you all right?" gasped Ned.

"Yes--I--I guess so. I--I feel as though I had been put through a
clothes wringer though. What happened?"

"A big snake dropped down out of a tree and grabbed you," answered
Tom.

"And then what? Put me down, boys, I guess I can walk."

"We shot it," said Ned modestly.

"Bless my insurance policy!" exclaimed the odd gentleman. "I--I
hardly know what to say. I'll say it later. You saved my life. Let
me see if any bones are broken."

None was, fortunately, and after staggering about a bit Mr. Damon
found that he could limp along. But he was very sore and bruised,
for, though the snake had squeezed him but for part of a minute,
that was long enough. A few seconds more and nearly every bone in
his body would have been crushed, for that is the manner in which a
constrictor snake kills its prey before devouring it.

"Santa Maria! The dear gentleman is not dead then?" cried San Pedro,
as the three approached the tents.

"Bless my name plate, no!" exclaimed Mr. Damon.

"Praise to all the saints! The brave young senors with their
wonderful guns saved him. Now you must rest and sleep."

"I feel as if that was all I wanted to do for a month," commented
Mr. Damon. His soreness and stiffness increased each minute, and he
was glad to get to bed, while the boys and Eradicate rubbed his
limbs with liniment. San Pedro knew of a leaf that grew in the
jungle which, when bruised, and made into poultices, had the
property of drawing out soreness. The next day he found some, and
Mr. Damon was wrapped up in bandages until he declared that he
looked like an Egyptian mummy.

But the leaf poultices did him good, and in a few days he was able
to be about, though he was still a trifle stiff. Of course the
cavalcade had to halt in the woods, but they did not mind this as
they had traveled well up to this time, and the enforced rest was
appreciated.

"Well, do you feel able to move along?" asked Tom of Mr. Damon one
morning, about a week later, for they were still in the "snake
camp," as they called it in memory of the big serpent.

"Oh, yes, I think so, Tom. Where are you going?"

"I want to push on to the next village. There I hope to get some
line on giant land, and really I ought to begin making inquiries
soon. San Pedro and the others are wondering what our object is, for
we haven't collected any specimens of either flowers or animals, or
the snake skin, and he thinks we are a sort of scientific
expedition."

"Well, let's travel then. I'm able."

So they started off once more along the jungle and forest trail. As
San Pedro had predicted, they came upon evidences of a native
village. Scattered huts, made of plastered mud and grass, with
thatched roofs of palm leaves, were met with, as they advanced, but
none of the places seemed to be inhabited, though rude gardens
around them showed that they had been the homes of natives up to
recently.

"No one seems to be at home," remarked Tom, when they had gone past
perhaps half a dozen of these lonely huts.

"I wonder what can be the matter?" asked Ned. "It looks as if they
had gone off in a hurry, too. Maybe there's been some sort of
epidemic."

"No, no sickness," said San Pedro. "Natives no sick."

"Bless my liver pill!" cried Mr. Damon, who was almost himself
again. "Then what is it?"

"Much fight, maybe."

"Much fight?" repeated Tom.

"Yes, tribes at war. Maybe natives go away so as not be killed."

"By Jove!" exclaimed the young inventor. "That's so. I forgot about
what Mr. Preston said. There's a native war going on around here.
Well, when we get to the town we can find out more about it, and
steer clear of the two armies, if we have to."

But as they went farther on, the evidences of a native war became
more pronounced. They passed several huts that had been burned, and
the native mule drivers began showing signs of fear.

"I don't like this," murmured Tom to his chum. "It looks bad."

"What can you do?"

"Nothing, I guess. We've got to keep on. No use turning back now.
Maybe the two rival forces have annihilated each other, and there
aren't any fighters left."

At that moment there arose a cry from some of the natives who, with
the mules and their burdens, had pressed on ahead.

"What's that?" exclaimed Tom.

"Something's happened!" gasped Ned.

"Bless my cartridge box!" cried Mr. Damon.

The three went forward and came to a little hill. They looked down
into a valley--a valley that had sheltered a native village, but the
village was no more. It was but a heap of blackened and fire-scarred
ruins, and there were still clouds of smoke arising from the grass
huts, showing that the enemy had but recently made their assault on
the place.

"Bless my heart!" cried Mr. Damon. "The whole place has been wiped
out."

"Not one hut left," added Ned.

"Hark!" cried Tom.

An instant later there arose, off in the woods, a chorus of wild
yells. It was followed by the weird sound of tom-toms and the gourd
and skin drums of the natives. The shouting noise increased, and the
sound of the war drums also.

"Look!" cried Mr. Damon, pointing to a distant hill, and there the
boys saw two large bodies of natives rushing toward one another,
brandishing spears, clubs and the deadly blow guns.

They were not more than half a mile away, and in plain view of Tom
and his party, though the two forces had not yet seen our friends.

"They're going to fight!" cried Tom.

And the next moment the two bodies of natives came together in a
mass, the enemies hurling themselves at each other with the
eagerness and ferocity of wild beasts. It was a deadly battle.

CHAPTER XIII

THE DESERTION

"Say, look at those fellows pitch into one another!" gasped Ned.

"It's fighting at close range all right," commented Mr. Damon.

"If they had rifles they wouldn't be at it hand to hand," spoke Tom.
"Maybe it's just as well they haven't, for there won't be so many
killed. But say, we'd better be thinking of ourselves. They may make
up their quarrel and turn against us any minute."

"No--never--no danger of them being friends--they are rival tribes,"
said San Pedro. "But either one may attack us--the one that is the
victor. It is better that we keep away."

"I guess you're right," agreed Tom. "Lead the way, San Pedro, and
we'll get out of sight."

But there was a fascination in watching the distant battle that was
hard to resist. It was like looking at a moving picture, for at that
distance none of the horrors of war were visible. True, natives went
down by scores, and it was not to be doubted but what they were
killed or injured, but it seemed more like a big football scrimmage
than a fight.

"This is great!" cried Tom. "I like to watch it, but I'm sorry for
the poor chaps that get hurt or killed. I hope they're only stunned
as we stunned the wild horses."

"I'm afraid it is more serious than that," spoke San Pedro. "These
natives are very bloodthirsty. It would not be well for us to incur
their anger."

"We won't run any chances," decided Tom. "We'll just travel on. Come
on, Ned--Mr. Damon."

As he spoke there was a sudden victorious shout from the scene of
the battle. One body of natives was seen to turn and flee, while the
others pursued them.

"Now's our time to make tracks!" called Tom. "We'll have to push on
to the next village before we can ask where the gi--" he caught
himself just in time, for San Pedro was looking curiously at him.

"The senor wishes to find something?" asked the head mule driver
with an insinuating smile.

"Yes," broke in Eradicate. "We all is lookin' fo' some monstrous
giant orchards flowers."

"Ah, yes, orchids," spoke San Pedro. "Well, there may be some in the
jungle ahead of us, but the senors have come the wrong trail for
flowers," and he looked curiously at Tom, while, from afar, come the
sound of the native battle though the combatants could no longer be
seen.

"Never mind," said our hero quickly. "I guess I'll find what I want.
Now come on."

They started off, skirting the burned village to get on the trail
beyond it. But hardly had they made a detour of the burned huts than
one of the native drivers, who was in the rear, came riding up with
a shout.

"Now what's the matter?" cried Tom, looking back.

There was a voluble chattering in Spanish between the driver and San
Pedro.

"He says the natives that lived in this village have driven their
enemies away, and are coming back--after us," translated the head
mule driver.

"After us!" gasped Ned.

"Yes," replied San Pedro simply. "They are coming even now. They
will fight too, for all their wild nature is aroused."

It needed but a moment's listening to prove this. From the rear came
wild yells and the beating of drums and tom-toms.

"Bless my fountain pen!" cried Mr. Damon. "What are we going to do?"

"Stop them if we can," answered Tom coolly. "Ned, you and I and Mr.
Damon will form a rear guard. San Pedro, take the mules and the men,
and make as good time as you can in advance. We'll take three of the
fastest mules, and hold these fellows back with the electric rifles,
and when we've done that we'll ride on and catch up to you."

"Very good," said San Pedro, who seemed relieved to know that he did
not have to do any of the fighting.

Three of the lighter weight mules, who carried small burdens, were
quickly relieved of them, and mounting these steeds in preference to
the ones they had been riding since they took the trail, Tom, Ned
and Mr. Damon dropped back to try and hold off the enemy.

They had not far to ride nor long to wait. They could hear the
fierce yells of the victorious tribesmen as they came back to their
ruined village, and though there were doubtless sad hearts among
them, they rejoiced that they had defeated their enemies. They knew
they could soon rebuild the simple grass huts.

"Small charges, just to stun them!" ordered Tom, and the electric
rifles were so adjusted.

"Here's a good place to meet them," suggested Ned, as they came to a
narrow turn in the trail. "They can't come against us but a few at a
time, and we can pump them full of electricity from here."

"The very thing!" cried Tom, as he dismounted, an example followed
by the others. Then, in another moment, they saw the blacks rushing
toward them. They were clad in nondescript garments, evidently of
their own make, and they carried clubs, spears, bows and arrows and
blow guns. There was not a firearm among them, as they passed on
after the party of our friends whom they had seen from the battle-
hill. They gave wild yells as they saw the young inventor's friends.

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