The Adventures of Piang the Moro Jungle Boy | Page 4

the stream, dipping his slim hands into the current, arresting objects that floated by. He had made his banco (canoe) himself; had even felled the palma brava alone, and had spent days burning and chopping the center away, until at last he was the proud possessor of one of the swiftest canoes on the river. As on ice-boats, long outriggers of slender poles extended across the banco, and the ends were joined by other bamboo poles, so that the canoe looked like a giant dragon-fly as it skimmed lightly over the water.
Piang stopped at a lily-pad to gather some of the inviting blossoms, but regretted it instantly, as a swarm of mosquitos rose and enveloped him. He thought to escape their vicious attacks by paddling faster, but it was no use; they had come to stay. Trailing after him a long uneven stream, they seemed to take turns in tormenting him, and as the leaders became satiated, they fell back, allowing the rear rankers to buzz forward and renew the attack. Piang longed for a certain kind of moss that grows at the roots of trees, but his keen eyes could not discover any.
It was almost all he could do, to paddle his banco and fight the pests; his sarong was wrapped tightly around him, but it was no protection against the savage mosquitos, and he was about to drop in the water despite the crocodiles, when he spied some of the moss. With a cry of relief, he headed toward the bank and managed to pull some into the boat. Taking from his bundle a queerly shaped, wooden object, he spun it like a top, rapidly, backward and forward in a pan until smoke appeared at the point of the rod. Powdering some bark, he threw it into the pan, and when it began to blaze, he added some of the damp moss. Gradually a thick, pungent smoke arose. It curled upward, enveloping him and almost choking him with its overwhelming aroma, but it dispelled the mosquitos immediately, and Piang continued his journey unmolested.
He was very happy that morning, for was he not free, honored by his tribe, and engaged in the dearest of pastimes, adventure? The poor little girls have no choice in their occupations, for as soon as they are large enough, their tasks are allotted to them; they must sit all day and weave, or wear out their little backs pounding rice in the big wooden bowls. But the man child is free. The jungle is his task. He must learn to trap game, to find where the fruits abound, and to avoid the many dangers that wait for him. Piang broke into a native chant:
"Ee-ung pee-ang, unk ah-wang!" As it resounded through the forest in his high-pitched, nasal tones, he was answered from the trees, and little, gray monkeys came swinging along to see who their visitor might be. Piang mischievously tossed a piece of the smoking moss to the bank and paused to see the fun. Their almost human coughs, as the smoke was wafted their way, made him laugh. They scampered down, tumbling over each other in their anxiety to be first, and one little fellow, who succeeded in out-distancing the others, stuck its hand into the smoldering embers. Astonished, at first, it nursed the injured member, but gradually becoming infuriated, it finally shrieked and jumped up and down. It began to pelt the smudge madly with stones, chattering excitedly to its companions, as if describing the tragedy. The others had climbed back into the trees, paying no attention to Piang, but keeping a watchful eye on the danger that had been hurled among them.
Piang lazily plied his paddle, laughing to himself at the foolishness of monkeys. He tried to peer through the dense trees that crowded toward the river, hiding the secrets of the jungle. He wanted to know those secrets, wanted to match his strength against the numberless dangers that are always veiled by that twilight, which the sun strives in vain to penetrate, year after year, turning away discouraged. Piang listlessly examined the river, little knowing the perilous adventure that waited for him just beyond the bend.
One lone log, majestic in its solitude, floated down the river, resisting the efforts of tenacious creepers to bind and hold it prisoner. Piang poked it with his paddle. Another was floating in its wake, and he idly 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