Tracks of the Tiger by Bear Grylls

Author:Bear Grylls
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Publisher: RHCP

CHAPTER 21

Beck glanced at his watch. It was mid-afternoon, about twenty-four hours after the crash that had got them into this situation. That was food for thought. Twenty-four hours and they still hadn’t seen anyone else. They had to see signs of people eventually. But right now all Beck could see was jungle and more jungle.

Give it another hour, he decided, and they would call a halt for the day.

‘Listen!’ Peter stopped dead in his tracks. A faint rumble drifted down through the canopy. He looked at Beck with wide eyes. ‘That wasn’t another eruption, was it?’

‘No,’ Beck replied, looking aloft. ‘That was—’

Suddenly it started to rain.

Rain in a rainforest was like someone in the sky turning on a tap. Back home there would be a few tentative drops. They would gradually get stronger until someone noticed. Here it was either raining or it wasn’t. There was no in-between. And when it did rain, it was like every drop of moisture in existence was just dumping itself out of the sky on top of you.

‘. . . rain,’ Beck finished.

Even with the shelter of the tree canopy, it was only about ten seconds before the boys were completely soaked. Beck felt his hair plastered against his head. His clothes were as wet and clinging as if he had just jumped into a river. Peter’s glasses had turned into steamy circles.

The jungle was already dim. The rain made it even gloomier. They needed shelter and there was no point in waiting any longer. Beck decided to use the available light now – before it got too dark.

‘We need somewhere to make camp.’

‘You going to make another sleeping frame?’

‘I suppose. We’ll need more bamboo . . .’

Beck looked around. A bamboo cluster a short distance away was a likely looking candidate, but his attention was caught by what was next to it. It was a tall tree – he wasn’t quite sure what type – with a trunk so thick he couldn’t have put his arms around it. And about halfway up, in the fork of some branches, was what looked like a pile of driftwood.

‘Hey.’ He nudged Peter. ‘Does that look familiar?’

But Peter was blind with his glasses on in the rain, and was busily trying to wipe them.

‘Wait here . . .’ Beck told him.

The tree trunk was encrusted with old vines, thick and secure enough to provide footholds. Beck clambered up quickly while rain sluiced down all around him, taking care to keep three points fixed at all times. It only took him thirty seconds to reach the fork in the branches.

Where they met they formed a shallow bowl in the trunk. It was not quite flat but it was wide enough for two people. And someone – or more accurately something – had laid down a pile of logs and leaves to pad the bowl out a bit and create more room.

‘It’s an orang-utan nest!’ he called down to Peter excitedly. Rain thudded onto the branches and the leaves around him and he had to raise his voice.

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