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Authors: Willard Price
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through bats clinging to its surface. The current pulled the boat away and it hurried on.
But now there was a faint gleam of light, enough to make out the wheeling and swooping of the bats. With the growing light, there grew also the thunder of water ahead.
Hal’s spirits leaped. ‘We’re getting out of it!’ He did not mind the increasing thunder. Anything was better than that black rat-trap.
There were some cracks in the ceiling now. It was good to get a glimpse of blue sky — it seemed an age since he had seen it last.
Another curve, and both boys whooped as the roof burst asunder and the cliffs fell away into rocky slopes. The light was blinding. The fresh air smacked them hard in the face and it was mil of a powdery spray. The river was churning up into white waves.
Roger peered ahead. ‘Where does it go?’ The river seemed to meet the sky and end right there. The boat was only a few dozen yards from this end and running like a racehorse. There was no chance of making the shore.
‘Waterfall!’ shouted Hal, but the din was so great that he could not be heard. Roger glanced back to see that his brother was paddling furiously, and he did the same. Their only chance was to shoot the canoe over the brink so fast that it would come down on its keel rather than on its nose. Even so, they were in for a smashed canoe if there happened to be rocks below.
Roger yelled like a demon. This was fun, as long as it lasted. Hal thought only of the sleeping or unconscious form in the bottom of the boat. This was a mean spot for a sick man.
The canoe shot out into space. Hal, at the last moment, reversed his stroke and backed water strongly to hold the bow up. Then came a falling sensation. They seemed to fall and fall, and could hardly believe it later when they saw that the drop was only about ten feet. But that much of a fall is plenty in a canoe!
The prayer that the canoe would not split on a rock was answered — it soused into deep water, still right side up. Hal relaxed, Roger relaxed. That was their mistake. A strong side eddy with choppy waves upset the boat in a twinkling.
Even as it went over Hal leaped to get hold of his father. Gripping him, he went down and then came up to battle with the current, which was making a determined effort to smash them on the rocks.
Roger, swimming like an eel, struggled to right the boat and bring it to shore. The white tops of waves tumbled down upon his head time and again but he always came up to give a yell of defiance and to yank the boat closer to shore.
When he reached it he found Hal and his father laid out on the bank like corpses awaiting burial. Hal was done in. The nervous reaction from the weird ride through the tunnel and the plunge over the fall had left him cold and shaking. The impact of the water had roused John Hunt and his eyes were open but he was too weak to move.
The kit, lashed into the canoe, had made the trip safely. Roger unlashed it and put it out on the rocks to dry.
Then he suddenly thought of Nosey. Where was the little tapir? The end of its leash was still tied to the thwart. Roger followed the leash down to the river’s edge and into a pool behind a big rock.
There was Nosey, having the time of his life. He rolled and dived and snorted like a baby sea lion. Roger let him enjoy himself.
Among the rocks were the battered hulks of two dugout canoe. There was nothing to show whether the canoeists had been Indians, or other adventurers whose attempt to explore the Pastaza had ended at this point.
John Hunt also saw the wrecks.
‘Hal,’ he said weakly, ‘you took that fall like a veteran. And incidentally, thanks for pulling me out.’
But Hal, in the warm comfort of the sun, was fast asleep.
Chapter 10
Mystery of the Vampire Bat
There was not much sleep that night.
The camp had visitors. Not Jivaro Indians — though they were half expected. The visitors were of a much more strange and horrifying sort.
Roger, already covered with
But now there was a faint gleam of light, enough to make out the wheeling and swooping of the bats. With the growing light, there grew also the thunder of water ahead.
Hal’s spirits leaped. ‘We’re getting out of it!’ He did not mind the increasing thunder. Anything was better than that black rat-trap.
There were some cracks in the ceiling now. It was good to get a glimpse of blue sky — it seemed an age since he had seen it last.
Another curve, and both boys whooped as the roof burst asunder and the cliffs fell away into rocky slopes. The light was blinding. The fresh air smacked them hard in the face and it was mil of a powdery spray. The river was churning up into white waves.
Roger peered ahead. ‘Where does it go?’ The river seemed to meet the sky and end right there. The boat was only a few dozen yards from this end and running like a racehorse. There was no chance of making the shore.
‘Waterfall!’ shouted Hal, but the din was so great that he could not be heard. Roger glanced back to see that his brother was paddling furiously, and he did the same. Their only chance was to shoot the canoe over the brink so fast that it would come down on its keel rather than on its nose. Even so, they were in for a smashed canoe if there happened to be rocks below.
Roger yelled like a demon. This was fun, as long as it lasted. Hal thought only of the sleeping or unconscious form in the bottom of the boat. This was a mean spot for a sick man.
The canoe shot out into space. Hal, at the last moment, reversed his stroke and backed water strongly to hold the bow up. Then came a falling sensation. They seemed to fall and fall, and could hardly believe it later when they saw that the drop was only about ten feet. But that much of a fall is plenty in a canoe!
The prayer that the canoe would not split on a rock was answered — it soused into deep water, still right side up. Hal relaxed, Roger relaxed. That was their mistake. A strong side eddy with choppy waves upset the boat in a twinkling.
Even as it went over Hal leaped to get hold of his father. Gripping him, he went down and then came up to battle with the current, which was making a determined effort to smash them on the rocks.
Roger, swimming like an eel, struggled to right the boat and bring it to shore. The white tops of waves tumbled down upon his head time and again but he always came up to give a yell of defiance and to yank the boat closer to shore.
When he reached it he found Hal and his father laid out on the bank like corpses awaiting burial. Hal was done in. The nervous reaction from the weird ride through the tunnel and the plunge over the fall had left him cold and shaking. The impact of the water had roused John Hunt and his eyes were open but he was too weak to move.
The kit, lashed into the canoe, had made the trip safely. Roger unlashed it and put it out on the rocks to dry.
Then he suddenly thought of Nosey. Where was the little tapir? The end of its leash was still tied to the thwart. Roger followed the leash down to the river’s edge and into a pool behind a big rock.
There was Nosey, having the time of his life. He rolled and dived and snorted like a baby sea lion. Roger let him enjoy himself.
Among the rocks were the battered hulks of two dugout canoe. There was nothing to show whether the canoeists had been Indians, or other adventurers whose attempt to explore the Pastaza had ended at this point.
John Hunt also saw the wrecks.
‘Hal,’ he said weakly, ‘you took that fall like a veteran. And incidentally, thanks for pulling me out.’
But Hal, in the warm comfort of the sun, was fast asleep.
Chapter 10
Mystery of the Vampire Bat
There was not much sleep that night.
The camp had visitors. Not Jivaro Indians — though they were half expected. The visitors were of a much more strange and horrifying sort.
Roger, already covered with
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