Jules Verne For Children: 16 Incredible Tales of Mystery, Courage & Adventure (Illustrated Edition). Jules Verne
the ghost of a lion, my good little man,” replied Harris.
“Tigers, then?”
“Ask your mama if she has ever heard tell of tigers on this continent.”
“Never,” replied Mrs. Weldon.
“Good!” said Cousin Benedict, who, by chance, was listening to the conversation: “if there are neither lions nor tigers in the New World, which is perfectly true, we at least encounter cougars and jaguars.”
“Are they bad?” asked little Jack.
“Phew!” replied Harris; “a native has little fear of attacking those animals, and we are strong. Stay! Hercules would be strong enough to crush two jaguars at once, one in each hand!”
“You will watch well, Hercules,” then said little Jack, “and if a beast comes to bite us——”
“It is I who will bite it, Mr. Jack!” replied Hercules, showing his mouth, armed with superb teeth.
“Yes, you will watch, Hercules,” said the novice, “but your companions and I will relieve you, turn about.”
“No, Mr. Dick,” replied Acteon, “Hercules, Bat, Austin, and I, we four will be enough for this labor. You must rest the whole night.”
“Thank you, Acteon,” replied Dick Sand, “but I ought to——”
“No! let those brave men do it, my dear Dick!” then said Mrs. Weldon.
“I, also; I shall watch!” added little Jack, whose eyelids were already closing.
“Yes, my Jack, yes, you will watch!” replied his mother, who did not wish to contradict him.
“But,” the little boy said again, “if there are no lions, if there are no tigers in the forest, there are wolves!”
“Oh! wolves in jest!” replied the American. “They are not even wolves, but kinds of foxes, or rather of those dogs of the woods which they call ‘guaras.’”
“And those guaras, they bite?” asked little Jack.
“Bah! Dingo would make only one mouthful of those beasts!”
“Never mind,” replied Jack, with a last yawn; “guaras are wolves, because they are called wolves!”
And with that Jack fell asleep peaceably in Nan’s arms, beside the trunk of the mango. Mrs. Weldon, lying near her, gave a last kiss to her little boy, and her tired eyes quickly closed for the night.
A few moments later Hercules brought back to the camp Cousin Benedict, who had just gone off to commence a chase for pyrophores. They are “cocuyos,” or luminous flies, which the stylish put in their hair, like so many living gems. These insects which throw a bright and bluish light from two spots situated at the base of their corselet, are very numerous in South America. Cousin Benedict then counted on making a large collection, but Hercules did not leave him time, and, in spite of his recriminations, the negro brought him to the halting-place. That was because, when Hercules had orders, he executed them with military preciseness, which, no doubt, prevented the incarceration of a notable quantity of luminous flies in the entomologist’s tin box.
A few moments after, with the exception of the giant, who was watching, all were reposing in a profound sleep.
CHAPTER XVII
A Hundred Miles in Two Days.
Generally, travelers or ramblers in the woods, who have slept in the forests under the lovely stars, are awakened by howlings as fantastic as disagreeable. There is everything in this morning concert: clucking, grunting, croaking, sneering, barking, and almost “speaking,” if one may make use of this word, which completes the series of different noises.
There are the monkeys who thus salute the daybreak. There we meet the little “marikina,” the marmoset with a speckled mask; the “mono gris,” the skin of which the Indians use to recover the batteries of their guns; the “sagous,” recognizable from their long bunches of hair, and many others, specimens of this numerous family.
Of these various four-handed animals, the most remarkable are decidedly the “gueribas,” with curling tails and a face like Beelzebub. When the sun rises, the oldest of the band, with an imposing and mysterious voice, sings a monotonous psalm. It is the baritone of the troop. The young tenors repeat after him the morning symphony. The Indians say then that the “gueribas” recite their pater-nosters.
But, on this day, it seemed that the monkeys did not offer their prayer, for no one heard them; and, meanwhile, their voice is loud, for it is produced by the rapid vibration of a kind of bony drum, formed by a swelling of the hyoides bone in the neck.
In short, for one reason or for another, neither the “gueribas,” nor the “sagous,” nor any other four-handed animals of this immense forest, sang, on this morning, their usual concert.
This would not have satisfied the wandering Indians. Not that these natives appreciate this kind of strange choral music, but they willingly give chase to the monkeys, and if they do, it is because the flesh of this animal is excellent, above all, when it is smoke-dried.
Dick Sand, of course, could not be familiar with the habits of the “gueribas,” neither were his companions, or this not hearing them would have undoubtedly been a subject of surprise. They awoke then, one after the other, much refreshed by these few hours of repose, which no alarm had come to disturb.
Little Jack was not the last to stretch his arms. His first question was, to ask if Hercules had eaten a wolf during the night. No wolf had shown himself, and consequently Hercules had not yet breakfasted.
All, besides, were fasting like him, and after the morning prayer, Nan occupied herself preparing the repast.
The bill of fare was that of the supper of the night before, but with appetites sharpened by the morning air of the forest, no one dreamed of being difficult to please. It was necessary, above all, to gather strength for a good day’s march, and they did it. For the first time, perhaps, Cousin Benedict comprehended that to eat was not an action indifferent or useless to life; only, he declared that he had not come to “visit” this country to walk with his hands in his pockets, and that, if Hercules prevented him from chasing the “cocuyos,” and other luminous flies, Hercules would have some trouble with him.
This threat did not seem to frighten the giant to any great extent. However, Mrs. Weldon took him aside and told him that, perhaps, he might allow his big baby to run to the right and left, but on condition that he did not lose sight of him. It would not do to completely sever Cousin Benedict from the pleasures so natural to his age.
At seven o’clock in the morning, the little troop took up their journey toward the east, preserving the order of march that had been adopted the previous day. It was always the forest. On this virgin soil, where the heat and the moisture agreed to produce vegetation, it might well be thought that the reign of growth appeared in all its power. The parallel of this vast plateau was almost confounded with tropical latitudes, and, during certain months in summer, the sun, in passing to the zenith, darted its perpendicular rays there. There was, therefore, an enormous quantity of imprisoned heat in this earth, of which the subsoil preserved the damp. Also, nothing could be more magnificent than this succession of forests, or rather this interminable forest.
Meanwhile, Dick Sand had not failed to observe this—that, according to Harris, they were in the region of the pampas. Now, pampas is a word from the “quichna” language, which signifies a plain. Now, if his recollections did not deceive him, he believed that these plains presented the following characteristics: Lack of water, absence of trees, a failure of stones, an almost luxuriant abundance of thistles during the rainy season, thistles which became almost shrubby with the warm season, and then formed impenetrable thickets; then, also, dwarf trees, thorny