He had landed in an opening or cave, and presently went down into it still further. Then, as he picked himself up, he heard a sudden low growl, that filled him with fear. He strained his eyes and made out a small animal, which proved to be the cub of an ocelot.
He followed its course to a litter of leaves and straining his glance in that direction made out two other cubs.
They were too small to be dangerous. Plum had told him that there were very few ocelots in that vicinity and these rather cowardly, unless attacked or enraged.
Jack looked hurriedly around. The parent ocelot was not in evidence. The baby cub he had stumbled over, however, was making a great outcry, and our hero decided he would not linger any longer than was necessary.
He got under the hole he had fallen through. It was not accessible by climbing, for the walls of the cave were perfectly perpendicular and came nowhere near the central aperture.
Jack reached up and caught at the dangling end of the broken vine. It sustained one hard pull, but, as he set his full weight, it tore up roots and all, bringing down a shower of dirt and gravel.
About eight feet over his head the youth made out an exposed root of the tree. It ran out of the solid dirt a few inches, looped, and was again solidly imbedded.
If he could reach this, he could grasp higher pieces of roots that showed plainly, and easily draw himself to _terra firma_.
Our hero went back to the extreme end of the cave. The young cubs set up outcries of affright as he pa.s.sed near them, but he paid no attention to them.
He braced for a run and a jump to reach the piece of root that was the bottom rung of a natural ladder to liberty.
Poised on one foot, Jack stood motionless in some dismay. The entrance to the cave was suddenly darkened. A great heavy body dropped through. The mother ocelot landed on four feet on the cave floor with a terrific growl.
She ran first to her crying cubs, nosed them affectionately, and then turned with low, ominous growlings.
Jack saw the beast"s eyes fix themselves upon him. They glowed with fire and fury. Its collar ruffled and its white teeth showed.
Jack had not so much as a stick to defend himself with. He had loaned his hunting knife to a friend when they first started and his pistol had been dropped in the woods.
In his pocket was a small pocket knife. He was groping for this when the ocelot, that had for a minute or two stood perfectly motionless, made a forward movement.
It was not a spring or a glide, but a rush. Jack knew why they called this species the Honey Eater. Its paws were enormous and armed with long curved sharp pointed claws.
He was hedged in. The beast, still advancing, reared on its hind feet.
Its forepaws were extended and whipping the air. Jack knew that one contact would tear the bark from the toughest tree. He mechanically seized the first object his groping fingers met in his coat pocket.
It was one of two condiment bottles that he had brought from the last camp. This was the one containing pepper.
In a desperate sort of a way Jack discovered this. He tore off the top of the bottle.
It was all that he could do to stay the course of the determined animal.
As the ocelot thrust out one formidable paw to tear its victim into its clasp, Jack flung the contents of the pepper bottle squarely into its eyes.
Chapter XXV
In the Quicksands
Jack ducked down and dodged the ocelot, and got past the animal. He could do this now, for the whole contents of the pepper bottle had gone squarely into the eyes of the beast.
The effect was indescribable. The animal gave a frightful roar, dropped to the floor, and, rolling over and over, tore frantically with its paws at its blinded, smarting eyes.
The cubs, excited and frightened by the uproar, joined in the chorus. They waddled around, getting in our hero"s way, and by their cries arousing the mother from her own distress.
She got upright, and seemed to spot Jack. Her advance, however, was clumsy and at fault, and the youth had time to get out of her way.
A second and a third rush she made at him. The last time one paw struck Jack"s coat sleeve and ripped it from place.
"This is getting serious," murmured the lad. "Each time she comes swifter and surer. I must get out of here, now or never."
Jack drove the cubs to their litter, and poked them with his foot. They set up a frantic uproar. This was just what he wanted. The mother flew towards her offspring.
The moment that she did so, Jack glided to the opposite wall of the cave.
He made a sharp run for the opening overhead, calculated poise and distance nicely, and landed with success.
He grabbed the rounding root. It held like iron, but his feet were dangling, and as he swayed there the big ocelot brushed by them on the hunt for the intruder.
Jack held firmly to the root and swung up his other hand. He caught at a higher tree root. Now he had a double hold.
He knew that the ocelot might come after him even up there, and lost no time in climbing from root to root. At last his head projected through the mesh of verdure into clear daylight. Jack lifted himself to solid ground and leaned against the tree trunk, out of breath and perspiring.
"That was action," he panted. "Will the beast come after me? No--but something else may. Oh, the mischief!"
The roars and growlings down in the cave seemed to have attracted outside attention. Jack turned sharply, at the sound of crackling branches and rustling leaves at a densely-verdured spot near at hand.
There burst through the greenery a new enemy. This was an ocelot larger than the one he had just escaped from.
"That is the head of the family, sure," thought Jack. "It"s a race, now."
The new feature in the incident came straight for our hero, with bristling muzzle and fiery eyes. Jack started down the edge of the ravine.
It crumbled so that he could not make very rapid progress. To turn aside into the jungle meant to fight his way through thick, th.o.r.n.y bushes. To leap down into the dry water-course was even worse. There, as he knew, the spongy, shifting sand bottom would prevent even the progress of a decent walk.
Jack glanced back over his shoulder. The big ocelot, more sure-footed than himself, was following him up resolutely.
Jack took the first tree he came to. It was a dead one. There were lower branches within reach, and he swung himself up to its first crotch readily. The ocelot did not pause. It started up the tree without delay.
Jack armed himself with a piece of a thick limb. Reaching down, as the beast got about four feet away, he delivered a smart whack directly across its snout.
The animal issued a terrific snort. Its eyes blazed madly. A second blow with the club brought the blood, but it kept on climbing.
Jack knew that it would be folly to tempt to battle at any closer quarters. He stood on a dead limb about twenty feet from the ground.
The limb was as thick as his arm, and over thirty feet long. It ran clear across the ravine, and a discovery of this fact gave Jack an idea.