A halt was called while the camera was made ready, and then, as the ants went on in their queer procession, carrying the leaves which looked like green sails over their backs, the film clicked on in its indelible impression of them, for the delight of audiences who might see them on the screen, in moving picture theaters from Maine to California.

"Well, that was worth getting," said Blake, as they put away the camera, and went on again. "I wonder what we'll see next?"

"Have you any wild beasts in these jungles?" asked Mr. Alcando of the Indian guide.

"Well, not many. We have some deer, though this is not the best time to see them. And once in a while you'll see a--"

"What's that?" suddenly interrupted Blake, pointing through the thick growth of trees. "I saw some animal moving then. Maybe it was a deer. I'd like to get a picture of it."

There was a movement in the underbrush, and a shouting among the native carriers.

"Come on!" cried Joe, dashing ahead with a camera.

"Better wait," advised Mr. Alcando. "It might be something dangerous."

"It's only some tapirs, I think," the guide said. "They are harmless."

"Then we'll film them," decided Blake, though the mere fact of harm or danger being absent did not influence him.

Both he and Joe had taken pictures of dangerous wild animals in Africa, and had stood at the camera, calmly turning the handle, when it seemed as though death was on its way toward them in horrible form. Had occasion demanded it now they would have gone on and obtained the pictures. But there could be no danger from the tapirs.

The pictures obtained, however, were not very satisfactory. The light was poor, for the jungle was dense there, and the tapirs took fright almost at first, so the resultant film, as Blake and Joe learned later, when it was developed, was hardly worth the trouble they took. Still, it showed one feature of the Panama jungle.

All about the boys was a wonderful and dense forest. There were many beautiful orchids to be seen, hanging from trees as though they really grew, as their name indicates, in the air. Blake and Joe took views of some of the most beautiful. There was one, known as the "Holy Ghost" which only blooms twice a year, and when the petals slowly open there is seen inside them something which resembles a dove.

"Let's get some pictures of the next native village we come to,"

suggested Blake, as they went on after photographing the orchids and the tapirs.

"All right, that ought to go good as showing a type of life here,"

Joe agreed. And they made a stop in the next settlement, or "clearing," as it more properly should be called.

At first the native Indians were timid about posing for their pictures, but the guide of the boys' party explained, and soon they were as eager as children to be snapped and filmed.

"This is the simple life, all right," remarked Blake, as they looked at the collection of huts. "Gourds and cocoanut sh.e.l.ls for kitchen utensils."

That was all, really, the black housekeeper had. But she did not seem to feel the need of more. The Panama Indians are very lazy.

If one has sufficient land to raise a few beans, plantains and yams, and can catch a few fish, his wants are supplied. He burns some charcoal for fuel, and rests the remainder of the time.

"That is, when he doesn't go out to get some fresh meat for the table," explained the guide.

"Meat? Where can he get meat in the jungle, unless he spears a tapir?" asked Blake.

"There's the iguana," the guide said, with a laugh.

"Do they eat them?" cried Joe, for several times in the trip through the jungles he had jumped aside at a sight of the big lizards, which are almost as large as cats. They are probably the ugliest creatures in existence, if we except the horned toad and the rhinoceros.

"Eat them! I should say they did!" cried the guide. "Come over here."

He led the way toward a hut and there the boys saw a most repulsive, and, to them, cruel sight. There were several of the big iguanas, or lizards, with their short legs twisted and crossed over their backs. And, to keep the legs in this position the sharp claw of one foot was thrust through the fleshy part of another foot. The tail of each iguana had been cut off.

"What in the world do they do that for?" asked Blake.

"That's how they fatten the iguanas," the guide said. "The natives catch them alive, and to keep them from crawling off they fasten their legs in that manner. And, as the tail isn't good to eat, they chop that off."

"It's cruel!" cried Joe.

"Yes, but the Indians don't mean it so," the guide went on. "They are really too lazy to do anything else. If some one told them it was work to keep the lizards as they do, instead of just shutting them up in a box to stay until they were needed to be killed for food, they'd stop this practice. They'd do anything to get out of work; but this plan seems to them to be the easiest, so they keep it up."

"Is iguana really good eating?" asked Joe.

"Yes, it tastes like chicken," the guide informed them. "But few white persons can bring themselves to eat it."

"I'd rather have the fruits," said Mr. Alcando. The boys had eaten two of the jungle variety. One was the _mamaei_, which was about as large as a peach, and the other the _sapodilla_, fruit of the color of a plum. The seeds are in a jelly-like ma.s.s.

"You eat them and don't have to be afraid of appendicitis," said the Spaniard with a laugh.

Several views were taken in the jungle "village," as Joe called it, and then they went farther on into the deep woods.

"Whew! It's hot!" exclaimed Joe, as they stopped to pitch a camp for dinner. "I'm going to have a swim." They were near a good-sized stream.

"I'm with you," said Blake, and the boys were soon splashing away in the water, which was cool and pleasant.

"Aren't you coming in?" called Blake to Mr. Alcando, who was on sh.o.r.e.

"Yes, I think I will join you," he replied. He had begun to undress, when Blake, who had swum half-way across the stream, gave a sudden cry.

"Joe! Joe!" he shouted. "I'm taken with a cramp, and there is an alligator after me. Help!"

CHAPTER XV

IN CULEBRA CUT

Joe sprang to his feet at the sound of his chum's voice. He had come ash.o.r.e, after splashing around in the water, and, for the moment, Blake was alone in the river.

As Joe looked he saw a black, ugly snout, and back of it a glistening, black and k.n.o.bby body, moving along after Blake, who was making frantic efforts to get out of the way.

"I'm coming, Blake! I'm coming!" cried Joe, as he ran to the edge of the stream, with the intention of plunging in.

"You will be too late," declared Mr. Alcando. "The alligator will have him before you reach him. Oh, that I was a good swimmer, or that I had a weapon."

But Joe did not stay to hear what he said. But one idea was in his mind, that of rescuing his chum from peril. That he might not be in time never occurred to him.

Blake gave a gurgling cry, threw up his hands, and disappeared from sight as Joe plunged in to go to his rescue.

"It's got him--the beast has him!" cried the Spaniard, excitedly.