“RUN!” cried Bob in tones of mortal terror.

He tore down the path at full speed, closely followed by Joe, who was panting furiously.

The youths had a start of less than fifty feet, but how long they could keep in the lead they well knew, for hardly any creature, large or small, could elude the tireless chase of peccaries.

They dared not glance back for fear of stumbling, but feared that the wild pigs were gaining rapidly.

What would the boys do? How could they ever escape that furious drove?

Suddenly Joe’s foot slipped and he went down, his face as pale as death. He looked appealingly to Bob.

Bob wheeled about and brought his rifle to his shoulder. The nearest peccary was not more than ten feet away. The youth took hasty aim, then pulled the trigger.

At the report of the gun the animal fell, gasping and writhing about.

Bob worked the bolt on his rifle. He took a second aim at the next peccary and killed it.

For a moment, at least, the jungle was cleared, and by now Joe had arisen to his feet, although the pain in his ankle was terrific.

“Come on,” beckoned Bob. “We must get away at once. The rest of them will be here in a moment. Can you make it?”

“I—I guess so. My ankle hurts terribly, though.”

Not far away there was a large hollow, the place where the roots of a tree had been before a hurricane had uprooted them. To this the boys made with all speed. If they could only reach it in time there might be a chance of escape, for the peccaries would find it hard to climb the steep bank.

The youths scrambled down the edge and tumbled to the bottom. Then they began the task of climbing the opposite side. They reached the top just as the drove started down, and for the first time felt that they had a good chance of escaping.

“Make for the trail,” panted Joe. “Then we might get back to the village.”

They kept up the fast pace for a distance of several hundred yards, and then, panting and gasping, they slowed down to a trot.

“Guess we’ve thrown them off the track,” breathed Joe, hobbling along almost on one foot.

“Let’s hope so,” Bob answered, glancing around for a brief moment.

At last they parted the foliage and burst into the village, their faces red with fatigue, their bodies dripping with perspiration.

Mr. Lewis came out to meet them, and he glanced up in some surprise.

“What happened?” he asked, sensing that the youths had met with some misfortune.

“Peccaries!” returned Bob. “A drove of peccaries! Doesn’t that mean something?”

“Ah!” the naturalist exclaimed. “Well, it’s no wonder you’re so worn out. Let’s hear about it.”

Mr. Holton and Professor Bigelow now came running out, along with a few Indians.

Bob related their narrow escape from the wild pigs, and Mr. Holton shook his head gravely.

“You don’t want any more such encounters,” he said. “Good luck like that couldn’t happen twice.”

“At that, we would have got away sooner if Joe hadn’t sprained his ankle,” said Bob.

“A sprained ankle is a bad thing to have when in a wild land,” said Professor Bigelow, with a grim smile. “It often proves one’s own undoing. But now,” he added, “I’m off to converse with the chief. I’m getting a wealth of information about these strange people.”

But though he was meeting with success, the professor was destined not to be satisfied in prolonging his stay in this village. It happened in this way. The explorers were seated about the campfire one evening when the chief happened casually to mention a strange Indian tribe that lived in the remote beyond. At once the anthropologist was on the alert, ready to hear anything that Otari might say.

“Tell me something about them,” urged the scientist in the native tongue.

The chief explained that little was known about the tribe, except that the members were extremely warlike and did not hesitate to kill anyone that looked to be an enemy. Often they were cannibalistic, boiling their victims in huge clay kettles. Asked how he knew about them, Otari replied that one of his tribe, a born rover and adventurer, happened to come across them when on an exploring expedition in the upper reaches of the river. At first he was taken prisoner but was later released and allowed to return down the river.

For nearly five minutes after Otari had finished, Professor Bigelow was thoughtfully silent, absorbed in picturing the journey into the unknown. How wonderful it would be to visit this strange tribe! What an opportunity to win recognition from eminent men of his profession!

“How far away is this place?” he asked at last.

How far? A journey of many, many days through wild, heavily forested country. It would not be safe to attempt the journey.

The professor then asked the chief how he thought the unknown tribe would treat the explorers, and the big Indian shook his head doubtfully.

“Otanima turutee nevark [take big chance],” he said vaguely, and then proceeded to point out the many dangers that would accompany the venture.

But despite the Indian’s warning, Professor Bigelow was determined to investigate this unknown tribe. It was more than likely that Otari was influenced by native superstition and that the dangers that he feared were largely imaginative. After all he (Professor Bigelow) had looked up many other strange people in various parts of the world and had had little difficulty in winning their good will. Even the wildest of savages, if well treated and presented with gifts, were more or less easily won over. Surely this tribe would not be worse than others he had visited.

Professor Bigelow sought out his companions and put the facts before them, not hesitating to tell them that the venture would probably be dangerous and fraught with displeasures. But he pointed out much stronger that there would be a wonderful opportunity to study the most primitive of men, in addition to finding many strange, or perhaps unknown, animals.

The others listened intently, and in the end they were very thoughtful.

Bob and Joe remained silent. Here was a time when they thought it best not to voice an opinion, for they had had no experience in the work of exploring.

“If it were not for the fact that the boys are with us I would answer ‘yes’ at once,” said Mr. Lewis. “But since they are, I hardly know what to say.”

“It would be terrible if anything should happen to them,” put in Mr. Holton. “But they have proven that they are able to take care of themselves in almost any predicament, and we wouldn’t need to worry about them. Still, that wouldn’t prevent anything from happening to the whole party. Yet Professor Bigelow has shown that he has an enormous amount of ability to handle savage people, and I’d be willing to bet that in the end we’d come out all right. What do you think of it, Ben?”

“I’m willing to go if you are,” Mr. Lewis replied. “As you said, we’ll probably have little or no trouble.”

“Then you’ll go?” the professor asked.

The others nodded.

“Fine! I assure you that I will do all in my power to bring about friendly relations. And I might add that Otari has consented to give me a list of words of the strange tribe’s language. He got them from the fellow that wandered into their domain.

“Now the next thing,” he continued, “is to get our belongings together and pack them in the boats. You can start doing that now, while I look up Otari. I’ll be back in a very short time.”

The next minute he was gone, and the naturalists and their sons began the task of packing their provisions in the boats. For some time no one spoke. Then Mr. Lewis put down a box he was carrying and turned to the others.

“We don’t want to have any bloodshed if we can possibly prevent it,” he said gravely. “But there may be a time when we’ll find it necessary to use our rifles in order to protect our lives. In that case, every man must be depended upon to be wide awake and do his part in the shooting. Let’s hope that nothing like that happens, but as there is a possibility, it is best to be on the safe side. I think it might be wise to construct sides and a top on the boats, so as to ward off spears and poisoned arrows—if any should come our way. We can get the Indians to help us, and Otari will point out the best wood to use. What do you say?”

“I’m all for it,” replied Bob. “It might mean the difference between life and death.”

Professor Bigelow and Otari now came in, and the plan was explained to them. At once the professor gave his approval, and translated to the chief, who in the end sent men into the forest to pick out the best wood to be used in building the enclosure. Then the work of carrying the expedition’s belongings to the boats was resumed.

In a short time the Indians were back with a good supply of a light but tough wood, and the adventurers at once set to work at building the sides and top on the boats.

First the sides were built up to a height of about three feet; then a top was placed over about half of the length and fastened on securely. The material was so light that no difference in the standing of the boat was noticed. Yet Otari said that the tough wood would withstand a blow from any kind of native weapon. To prove this, he ordered one of his men to shoot an arrow at close range, and the sharp-pointed missile merely glanced off the wood and fell into the river.

The explorers were well pleased with this floating fort, and stood for some time admiring its staunch construction.

“Now to get to the other boat,” said Mr. Lewis, picking up a hammer and nails.

In less than an hour the second enclosure was built on the other canoe, and it appealed also to the explorers.

“Let’s get started at once,” said Professor Bigelow.

The last of their belongings was packed into the compartments, and then, with a sincere farewell to Otari and his tribe, the crew paddled them upstream on another stretch of the great river journey.

What new adventures and thrills awaited them?