The Adventures of Piang the Moro Jungle Boy | Page 5

tapped this, also. It stirred, turned over, and disappeared under the boat.
"Boia!" ("Crocodile!") breathed the startled boy. He had disturbed one
of the sleeping monsters! Piang's heart beat very fast, and a shudder
passed through him as he felt something bump the bottom of the boat.
The crocodile was just beneath him and if it rose suddenly, it would
upset him. One, two, three seconds he waited, but they were the longest
seconds Piang had ever known. There was a slight movement astern;
the boat tipped forward, swerved, and before Piang could right himself,
a vicious snort startled him. The crocodile was lashing the water with
its tail, and the light shell was pitching and rolling dangerously. 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 the jugular vein,
easily reached through the opened jaws. Piang, in the bow of the boat,
paused, arm raised, waiting for a favorable opportunity. The canoe was
being swept backward, stern first, and the crocodile swam close, nosing
it, making it careen perilously. Any moment the merciless jaws might
close over the brittle wood, crushing it to splinters. The small, bleary
eyes seemed to devour Piang as they tortured him with suspense, but he
patiently waited for his chance, knowing that he would only have one.
The banco gave a jerk as it bumped into an obstruction, and the impact
forced it outward a 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 sheltered
cove, from behind innocent-looking snags, appeared the heads of
hungry crocodiles, awakened by the fight. Luckily they were attracted

by the blood of Piang's victim, and he skilfully avoided the clumsy
animals as they rushed after the fast disappearing meal. One powerful
monster succeeded in dragging the body into the rushes, and the noise
of the dispute, as they fought over their unfortunate mate, nauseated the
boy. His arms were tired and stiff and his head was reeling, but he
bravely worked at the paddle until he reached a bend of the river. It had
been a narrow escape, and Piang had learned a lesson. Never again
would he idly thump logs in a stream!
The boat suddenly came to a standstill. It was turning as if on a pivot. It
had been caught in one of the numerous eddies at the mouth of a small
tributary stream. Vigorously he strove to gain the channel. He hugged
the bank, hoping to free himself from the whirlpool, but his outrigger
became entangled in some weeds, and the boat slowly began to tip.
Frantically he reached toward the tall nipa-palms, nodding over his
head, but their flimsy stalks gave easily, 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 weight thrown 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 grabbed
his creese and dived. Down, down; the current pulled and tugged at him;
the rush of sand and mud blinded him, and he was almost swept out
into the river. But he managed to catch hold of the roots that were
twined about the boat and finally cut the banco free. With a bound it
started down the river. The empty shell, at the mercy of the waves,
danced and frolicked like a crazy thing, and Piang was almost stunned
by 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 he failed to
reach it. The whispering rushes and feathery palms at the water's edge
hid evil-smelling mud, festering with fever, the home of reptiles and
crocodiles. Desperately the boy strove to overtake the boat, and just as
he was giving up hope, a friendly snag tempted the runaway to pause,

and Piang's strong, young hand closed over the outrigger. Then began
the task of climbing back. A sudden movement might release the banco,
and it would continue its mad flight, which he would 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 the outrigger as he would