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Updated: June 22, 2025
He mentioned for his men to bring their dugouts to the regular landing place, and when they obeyed he gave commands. Then he turned and walked toward Monitaya. "I go," stated Lourenço, rising. "You stay here until called. Yuara has told his men to leave all weapons in the canoes." He walked away after the son of Rana, and if any misgiving was in his heart it did not show in his confident step.
Supper was eaten, pipes smoked, the regular activities of the early hours of darkness gone through and Yuara lived on. His deep breathing had become automatic, and his eyes stared straight up in concentration on his battle with the death demon. At length he was seized with violent nausea which convulsed him for a time.
The Brazilians glanced at the sun shadows and remained where they were. According to their experience, Yuara should be dead within ten minutes at most. Time enough to make camp when they knew how this venture would result. The Mayorunas also stood fast and watched for the shadow of death to blanch the face of their stricken mate. But the minutes dragged past and Yuara's eyes did not grow dim.
"They tell me Monitaya has grown great since last I saw him. Another tribe which lost its chief and subchiefs by a swift sickness has joined his own, and he now rules two big malocas together. He is a powerful fighter, and if he is friendly to us we have a good chance of success. Ah! here is Yuara."
Reluctantly Pedro went away. Soon he was back with news of a suitable place. He found all bending closer over Yuara, whose breathing had become stertorous and whose eyes seemed fixed. "Going!" was the bushman's thought. But the others would not have it so. "How 'bout a shot o' booze to jolt his heart, Cap?" suggested Tim, whose whole soul was in the fight. McKay nodded.
But McKay, glancing at him as he followed suit, saw that, for all his seeming unconcern, the Brazilian bush rover was keenly watchful and that his gun lay within reach of his hand. From within the tribal house sounded the monotonous voice of Yuara. After listening a moment Lourenço quietly addressed the nearest warrior. A slightly surprised looked passed over the cannibal's face.
Somewhat to the bewilderment of the white men, who expected the Indians to increase their speed now that the way home lay under their feet, the leading pair slowed their gait. Moreover, they scanned the trail with intent care and watched the trees along the way. At length, with a warning grunt, Yuara stepped out of the path and began a detour. His comrade and the Brazilians followed.
I fell into one of those holes when I first came into this Mayoruna country, so I know just how they are made." "So? How did you get out?" "There were two of us, and I stood on the other man's shoulders while he lifted me high enough to jump out. Then I tied bush rope to a tree and he climbed up the rope. Come. Yuara waits."
And at the same moment a single canoe came creeping out of the bush and up to the landing place. The head behind the tree was that of a Red Bone spy. The two in the small canoe were Yuara and a companion from the Suba tribe. "Lourenço!" hoarsely whispered Pedro. "Yuara comes. Tell girls to run to welcome him and guide him between the pits. A spy is watching.
With confident tread, but with some misgiving, the five advanced, leaving guns and packs on the ground. One by one they bent low and got through the doorway. Yuara, with a word to a clubman and a motion to the equipment, followed the whites, trailed in turn by his three companions of the forest.
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