PROFESSOR Bigelow was right. On the shore not far away were a dozen or more native huts, grouped in a cluster about one that was larger and more carefully built. All about on the ground were various objects of daily life, such as wooden machetes, pots and kettles of clay, pieces of wood, and hides and skins of animals. But, strain their eyes as they did, the explorers could see no Indians.

The explorers were uncertain as to whether it would be safe to go ashore, but finally Professor Bigelow resolved to take the chance. He was as excited as a boy, and seemed not able to wait until the boats could be turned to the river bank.

The crew, however, were a bit dubious about the venture into an unknown village. They had heard stories of how explorers had been massacred by savage Indians, and as they had never been far as this upstream, they were at a loss to know how the strange tribe would treat them.

Still if the strange scientist was bound to hazard it they would go, although they would be ready for instant flight if necessary.

The boats were brought up alongside the bank and made secure to small trees. Then the explorers climbed out and looked about.

“An ideal site for a village,” said Joe, glancing about.

“Trust the natives to pick out the best spots,” said Bob.

Slowly and cautiously they walked toward the village, gripping their rifles tightly. When within a short distance from the foremost hut they stopped, and the professor, who had studied the languages spoken in this region, called out loudly in the native tongue—or rather what he thought to be the native tongue.

There was no answer, and the explorers proceeded on into the habitation.

“No signs of life anywhere,” said Professor Bigelow.

“Perhaps another tribe invaded and killed the inhabitants,” suggested Mr. Lewis, glancing about.

“No,” disagreed the professor. “There is evidence that the place has been recently inhabited. For instance, look at those ashes over there,” pointing to a place where a fire had been built. “They are not very old. I know the signs. We can look for the tribe at almost any time now.”

“Seems strange that the women and children went away too,” said Mr. Holton, almost unbelievingly.

“They often do it,” answered the professor. “The women, you see, do almost as much as the men. In many cases they do much more. They many times go along on excursions into the forest to carry the weapons and the trophies of the hunt. And as this is a rather small settlement, we can take that for granted.”

“When do you think they’ll return?” asked Bob.

“That is hard to say,” was the reply. “It is all according to how long they have been out. They may be back in a few hours, or it may be a week. But,” he added, “I am all for waiting. The chances are we’ll be all right.”

They explored the huts and found them to be very substantially built. There were few pieces of furniture in them, but the largest hut, which was undoubtedly the chief’s, contained several articles of interest to the visitors. There were brightly decorated pots and kettles, carved sticks, jaguar hides, spears and clubs, bows and arrows and blowguns.

“Quite an elaborate display of implements,” remarked Joe, examining a blowgun with interest. This weapon was about ten feet long, round and tapering, and covered with a glossy substance resembling glue. At each end it was bound with heavy cord made from vines. A quiver of arrows was attached to it, and, with utmost care lest they be poisoned, he took one out. It was about three feet long and sharp as a needle.

There were many other objects of domestic use lying and hanging about, and they were examined especially by Professor Bigelow, who had found himself in an anthropologist’s paradise. Baskets, closely woven from a strange type of straw, were filled with farina; bone tubes for snuffing were strewn about, and many kinds of ornaments hung on wooden pegs.

Bob’s attention was attracted to a kind of necklace, which was strung with the teeth of some wild animal—unless, but this was hardly probable, they were human teeth.

“Not human,” smiled Mr. Holton. “Can’t you tell a monkey’s molars when you see them?”

“Sorry, but I’m not as much of a naturalist and zoÖlogist as you are,” laughed Bob.

Meanwhile Joe was cranking the movie camera, filming the entire village. As a matter of fact he had been engaged in doing this since they first sighted the village.

“These ought to be interesting scenes,” he confided to Bob, as the two walked toward the river bank.

“They will be,” was the reply. “Tend to break the monotony of the constant river-traveling.”

At the shore they found several native canoes tethered to trees. They were mere dugouts, but they looked staunch and strong enough to stem almost any current.

The youths spent several more minutes at the bank; then they made their way back to the others.

“What’d you find?” asked Mr. Lewis.

“Only native canoes,” Bob answered. “Only——”

He stopped and listened. What was that he had heard?

Again it came to his ears, this time louder and nearer.

“Sounds like someone’s shouting,” said Joe. “Sounds like——”

“Indians!” cried Professor Bigelow. “The Indians are returning!”