The Adventures of Piang the Moro Jungle Boy | Page 5

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 climb a tree. Finally his hand touched the body of the boat, and, cautiously turning over, he sat straddling the bamboo frame. It was all he could do to keep from jumping into the boat, but he restrained his impatience and started worming over the side.
Half-way in his heart gave a leap! He could hear the swish-swish of the water on the other side of the banco as something made