Vietnam or Thailand ? Vote for the TOP Country of the Week !
Updated: June 23, 2025
The voice sounded again. Immediately three Indians stepped into view, poised for action. Another interval of staring, and they relaxed. "Come forward, comrades," said Lourenço. They came, halting again at the junction of the trails. Tucu spoke to one of the newcomers, who scowled as if only partly understanding, but grunted some sort of answer.
After threading their way along the weedy water-path, which was barely wide enough to give passage for the boats, they emerged at a slant into another stream. Down this, with the sure instinct for direction of the hereditary jungle-dweller, Tucu turned his prow without asking the women whether to go with or against the current.
But it was necessary to wait awhile for Tucu and Lourenço to tell Monitaya the tale of what had taken place; for the chief demanded immediate and full details, and not until he had them would he return to his maloca and his hammock throne. By that time the little moon was again ruler of the sky and the keen hunger of the voyagers had grown ravenous.
Yet he noticed that as soon as he stepped out the Red Bones all focused their gaze on him. More than that, the spokesman of the three hunters pointed at him and said something to the sharp-featured leader. Now that leader came forward alone. Six feet from Tucu he halted again and talked in a growling tone. The Mayoruna leader, cool and dignified, made answer.
At the head of the line they found Tucu and his crew struggling manfully to make progress without wrecking the whole fleet at the turns. Vast relief and instant acceptance of the new leadership followed Lourenço's explanation. At once the floating column began to pick up speed. And it was well that it did. Howls of baffled hate came faintly through the tree mass from the Red Bone town.
The man lay straight, his face in the dirt, his hands a little ahead as if he had been crawling forward at the moment of death. Tucu turned him on his back, revealing a blanched yellow-brown face which was proof positive of his race. "Peruvian," said Pedro. "What got him?" demanded Knowlton. "No wound on him." Lourenço questioned Tucu.
A chorus of excited grunts broke from the canoe brigade. The dugout of Tucu leaped away like a roweled horse. Lourenço and Pedro buried their paddles in mighty strokes, hurling their boat ahead to keep from being run down by those behind. Lourenço barked at Tucu, who flung back an answer. "Paddle hard, Capitao! If we do not keep up we shall be wrecked.
Thereupon the wizened old fellow entered the chief's house. "That old man speaks the Mayoruna tongue quite well, Capitao," said Lourenço. "He says you and I shall enter and talk through his mouth with the chief. All others remain outside, and we must leave our rifles here." "All right. Glad we can leave Tucu out here to control these fellows. Here, Merry." He passed his rifle to Knowlton.
Tucu watched the proceeding in satirical approval. Then, leaving the body where it lay, he went stooping along the path ahead, his keen eyes searching the undergrowth. In a few minutes he returned with the blood-stained dart which, as Lourenço had guessed, the stricken prowler had pulled from his flesh and dropped. This he passed to a blowgun man.
Word Of The Day
Others Looking