The Ocean Wireless Boys on the Pacific

On the part of the crocodile the battle was simply a series of leaps and wild tail threshings in an effort to dislodge his nimble foe. The grass and weeds were mown down as if by a scythe by the sweeps of the great tail, but the ape held firm, his little eyes twinkling wickedly. With one arm it clutched the rough hide firmly, but the other was waving about like a tentacle seeking something to grasp.

During the struggle the jaws of the crocodile had been frequently snapped, but they only closed on empty air. As in all the saurian tribe, during this process the upper jaw had pointed nearly vertically upward, making an opening big enough to swallow a canoe. Suddenly the watchers saw the orang’s purpose. All at once the disengaged arm made a swift sweep forward and grasped the extended upper jaw.

“Great Scott! he’s done for now,” cried Billy. “That jaw will close and cut his fingers off.”

“Hold on,” warned Jack. “Watch. I’ve heard these creatures can bend rifle barrels as if they were made of lead. Perhaps – look!”

The orang suddenly shifted his position. He was now kneeling on the crocodile’s back, his knees braced firmly on its armor-plated neck and his second arm aiding the first in the task of keeping those jaws, once apart, from ever coming together again. Then summoning every ounce of that strength that has made the orang the most dreaded of all the forest animals in that part of the world, even the Bornean tiger owning his supremacy, the red gorilla gave one grand wrench.

There was a tearing sound as of a tree being torn from its roots, and the alligator’s body writhed and threshed about convulsively. The great ape sprang free from the scaly monster and with hoarse laughter that sounded like the merriment of a maniac, it gazed on the saurian’s struggles. But it was not destined to see the end of them. In its agony the great crocodile instinctively made for the water and was soon out of sight, threshing and writhing until a clump of water-cane hid it from sight.

Then, and not till then, did the orang take its eyes from its conquered enemy. But when it had seen the last of it, the hairy creature turned and appeared to be contemplating fresh victory. The lust of battle was in its wicked little eyes.

“Down, Billy, down with you quick,” warned Jack, pulling his chum aside in the thicket. “If it comes this way, shoot at once. I wouldn’t want to come to close quarters with a creature like that. I thought Salloo was drawing the long bow when he told me about the mias, as he called it, but he didn’t put it on thick enough.”

“If only we’d had a camera,” was Billy’s regret. But for the next few moments there were more important things to think about. The orang stood upright, looking about him in a truculent manner. It almost appeared as if, now that his battle with the saurian was over, he had recollected the human figure he had seen not long before, but had paid little heed to it in his haste to make his evening meal among the water plants.

In fact, he started shamblingly toward the brake where the boys were concealed with leveled rifles and fingers on triggers. But the great creature’s life was spared, for that time at least, for had the boys fired he must have fallen at the first bullets from the high-powered rifles. After advancing a few paces, he changed his mind and, grumbling to himself, he shuffled off and was soon lost in the gloom of the forest.

“We ought to have shot him, Jack,” muttered Billy as they started back to camp with what game they bagged.

“What, kill a fine old warrior like that without cause? Could you have done it, Billy?”

“Um – well – er – no, I don’t believe I could,” rejoined his chum. “After all, that crocodile started the scrap and – and I guess every American likes a good fighter.”

CHAPTER XXXIV. – A FIGHT WITH A HORNBILL

“Now me showee you something.”

It was during the noon rest the next day and the Malay had asked the whites to come a little distance apart from the camp to a fine-looking banyan tree. They watched him with interest as with the axe he cut down several lengths of bamboo from a nearby cluster, and, pointing the ends sharply, having first separated the lengths into bits about two feet long, began driving them into the yielding bark of the tree. In this way he had soon made the first four rounds of a primitive ladder.

Although, as yet, he had given them no hint of the object of all this, they were all sure that he had something really of interest to show them and forbore asking questions till he was ready to explain the mystery. Salloo had driven the tenth round of his queer ladder and was about ten feet from the ground, when Jack drew everybody’s attention to a strange hissing sound that appeared to come from within the tree.

“Look out for snakes, Salloo,” he warned. But the Malay only nodded his head confidently and smiled. Donald glanced about nervously. Even Captain Sparhawk looked apprehensive. As for Muldoon, he shouted, “This is no place for a son of St. Patrick,” and fled back to camp.

“What’s the matter, Salloo?” asked Mr. Jukes. “Are you in trouble?”

“No trouble, Missel Boss,” rejoined Salloo. “Only bit what you callee good luck,” grinned the Malay, looking down on them and continuing his work.

“How good luck?” asked Jack.

“You see plenty soon,” was the cryptic reply, and the Malay drew another sharp-pointed peg from his girdle and drove it in with vigorous strokes of the axe. While he did this, the hissing continued, mingled with a hoarse roaring like that which might be emitted by a disabled foghorn. Moreover, they could now see that a few feet above Salloo’s head was an object which alternately was thrust out from the tree trunk and withdrawn. It was white and sharp-pointed, like one of the pegs he was driving. It was assuredly not a snake’s head, as they had for a minute thought, but what was it?

“What’s that right over your head, Salloo?” asked Captain Sparhawk.

“Him buld (bird), captain. Him plentee much bigee buld.”

“Oh, only a bird,” said Mr. Jukes in a disappointed voice. “What sort of a one?”

“Him hornbill. Ole hen hornbill. She on nest. Old man hornbill he shut her up in there so she no leave eggs. Him put mud over crack in tree so as she no put nothing but her beak out. That the way he feedee her.”

So that was the explanation of that object that darted in and out, and also of the hissing and grunting sounds. Looking closer, they now saw that at the spot where the bill still kept darting in and out there was a big longitudinal patch of mud which walled the hen hornbill up as effectually as certain prisoners were “walled up” in the days of old. As Salloo got within reaching distance of the nest, he raised his axe and smashed the mud wall before any of the party could check him. The next instant his bare arm was plunged fearlessly into the orifice and came out with his fingers clutching the old hen by the neck. In a moment she was fluttering, with her neck wrung, at the adventurers’ feet.

“Say, Salloo, you shouldn’t have done that,” called up Jack indignantly. “That’s a shame.”

The rest echoed his indignation at what seemed an act of wanton cruelty. Salloo only looked astonished.

“Him plenty good eat. Roast hornbill plenty fine.”

“You see, he takes a different point of view about these things than we do,” said Captain Sparhawk. “You can’t blame him. Still I wish we could have prevented it.”

They examined the dead hornbill with much interest. It was a gorgeous bird, almost as big as a turkey, with a bill of a size altogether disproportionate to even its large size. This beak was like a gigantic parrot’s bill and the horny structure extended over almost the entire head of the bird. It was not unlike the one the boys had shot the night before and thrown away as not good for food.

“Plentee eggs in there,” said Salloo as he came down, “but they no good eat.”

“Well, I’m glad there were no young ones to be starved through our interference,” said Billy, and the others felt as he did.

“Say, I’m going to have a look at that nest,” said Jack suddenly.

“All right. But look out you don’t fall and break your neck,” warned Raynor. Jack went nimbly up Salloo’s queer ladder and soon reached a height where he could see into the nest, which was built in a cavity of the tree and had afterward been carefully walled up with mud, strengthened by weaving reeds into it. Jack was still examining the nest when a sudden shadow fell over him. He looked up and above him he saw, with somewhat of a shock, a great bird whose plumage flashed brilliantly in the sun and whose huge beak snapped viciously at the boy.

“Look out, look out, him father hornbill,” cried Salloo from the ground.

The hornbill made a swoop at Jack, aiming with that cruel beak straight for his eyes. The boy put up an arm to defend himself, but the bird seized it with its parrot-like claws, scratching it badly, and all the while it kept up a beating of its wings that blinded the boy. Then the bird suddenly changed its tactics. It swooped off and then made a swift dash at the boy’s head. It was well for Jack that he had on his stiff sun helmet or his skull would have been cracked like an egg by that huge, horny bill. As it was, the helmet was ripped open.

Those below called on him to come down. But the attacks of the great bird so blinded and bewildered him that he was unable to move a step. Billy, at the order of Captain Sparhawk, brought a rifle from the camp, but so close did the bird stay to the boy that there was danger in using it. Even the most expert of shots would have been quite as likely to hit Jack as the enraged hornbill.

Salloo had sprung into the tree, and with his ever ready kriss was ascending to the rescue when Captain Sparhawk saw an opportunity. The rifle was already at his shoulder and, as the hornbill rose and hovered for an instant before making another plunge at Jack’s head, his finger pressed the trigger. A splendid shot, a broken wing, the huge bird fluttered to the earth and flopped and screamed on the ground till its strugglings were put an end to by another bullet. Jack remained where he was for a few seconds to recover his nerves and then, still somewhat shaken by his experience, he descended.

His arm was badly scratched and Captain Sparhawk was opening the medicine chest when Salloo intervened. He quickly gathered a handful of a plant that exuded a sort of thick milk. Crushing the gathered stems on a stone, he soon had a quantity of this juice, which he spread on the wounds. The irritation at once left them and Salloo promised a speedy cure. But it may be said that Jack had no appetite for roast hornbill that night.

CHAPTER XXXV. – THE HEART OF NEW GUINEA

The expedition now found itself advancing through forest that grew sparser as they progressed. The ground was rapidly becoming more rugged. Close to them now towered the range known as the Kini-Balu among the wild recesses of which the tribe of that name made its home. Constant vigilance was the watchword of the hour now. Salloo would permit no fires to be lighted, and he and his followers were constantly scouting in front of the party, while additional watch was kept at the rear and on both flanks.

It was dangerous, thrilling work, but the boys, who loved adventure, relished every moment of it. But Donald Judson lived a life of misery. Every rustle in the bush made him turn pale. He was constantly giving false alarms in the night and the boys heartily wished he had been left behind. One afternoon – they were right in the mountains now – Salloo halted the party with a quick gesture.

“Two men ahead of us. Up the mountain. Salloo go, look, see.”

He glided off with his usual snake-like agility and vanished in a flash, while the party waited behind a mighty rock, for cover of the forest kind was growing scarce now. A wilder region would have been hard to imagine. The cliffs and mountains were of all sorts of extravagant shapes. Some of the larger rocks and peaks took on the outlines of monstrous animals. But they were still following a trail which was undoubtedly the one set down in red ink on Broom’s map.

Through the glasses, which they were able to use without being observed, by crouching down in the coarse grass, they could see Salloo advancing toward the two figures on the mountain side. As he went he was making the peace sign, extending his arms as if inviting the others to attack him at their will. But as far as they could see, the meeting was friendly enough. Salloo conversed with the two men of the mountain for a long time. Then he could be seen retracing his steps.

“Well?” demanded everybody as he returned to the camp.

“Ebblyting good so far,” reported Salloo. “Those two men velly old men. They left behind when tribe go to war in the north.”

“Then the country is free of danger?” cried Donald.