“OH!” groaned Bob hopelessly. “Guess it’s all up with us.”

“No, it isn’t,” the other youth retorted. “You remember what we said to do in such an emergency, don’t you? Act extremely exhausted, as if we couldn’t move another foot. Lie on the ground—do anything to make them feel sorry for us. They will if the thing is carried out right.”

The cries were gradually getting louder, indicating that the Indians were coming closer. Occasionally some savage would chant louder than the others, and then there would be a grand chorus of shouts and yells.

“They’re getting nearer,” muttered Joe. “Come on, let’s lie on the ground. Act as if you’re half dead.”

The youths threw themselves on the soft grass and awaited developments.

They had not long to wait.

A figure burst into view from around a bend in the trail. Another, followed by fully twenty other savages, their gruesome faces showing surprise and bewilderment at sight of the youths.

Who were these persons—persons of a strange color? Were they enemies? Were they on the ground waiting for a chance to kill? What was that strange long thing that was beside them? What were they doing here? Had they been sent down from the sky to bring destruction to villages, or had they wandered from an unknown region in the remote beyond?

For fully ten minutes the savages were silent. Then they began chattering loudly and moved stealthily up to the boys, bows and arrows and blowguns in readiness.

Bob and Joe waited in terrible suspense, half expecting to be pierced by deadly weapons. The youths longed to move about, if only for a moment. Once Joe felt an itching along his back, and the desire to scratch was almost uncontrollable, but he finally managed to remain quiet.

An Indian that was evidently the chief felt of the boys’ bodies and limbs carefully, while his men looked on, ready to send an arrow at once if necessary. At last, after feeling the beating of the boys’ hearts, the native regained his feet and conversed with the others.

Then Bob and Joe were picked up by strong arms and carried through the jungle.

Where would they be taken? What was to be their fate? Could they gain the friendship of the savages? These questions were in the youths’ minds as they were being carried along the trail.

“Maybe they’re going to put us in boiling water,” thought Joe, and he shuddered in spite of himself. “But then,” he finally reasoned, “they probably won’t do that. After all, very few tribes are cannibalistic.”

How long the tramp continued, Bob and Joe did not know, but at last, after what seemed several hours, they came to a spot where the path broadened into twice the original width, and a few minutes later they parted the bushes and came to a large native village, where at least sixty wild Indians were walking about. At sight of the warriors and their burdens the Indians rushed forward and crowded around, their eagerness to get a view of the strange people resembling that of small children at a circus.

There was a turmoil of excited chattering, in which everyone took part. Questions flew thick and fast, and it was all the warriors could do to answer them.

Bob and Joe were placed in one of the native huts and for a short time left to themselves. There was a crude door at the entrance, and this was shut to keep out the curious.

Then for the first time they opened their eyes and looked about.

“We’re in a fairly large hut,” whispered Bob, glancing about. “And there are several pieces of furniture to keep us company. Over there is a kind of a table, laden down with pots and—— Hurrah! There’s our rifle. What do you know about that!”

“They’re certainly generous,” admitted Joe. “It’s a wonder they didn’t take it and start pulling the trigger, which would no doubt have resulted in five or ten of them getting their brains blown out.”

“But now,” mused Bob, “what do you think? What’ll they do with us?”

“I don’t happen to know,” was the response. “But we’ll——”

He ceased abruptly, as he noticed that the door was opening. The youths took a sitting position and tried to act as innocent as they could.

A second later the chief entered, followed by ten others. They stopped short when they noticed that the boys were sitting up, and stared in wonder.

Bob and Joe threw their hands apart in a gesture of helplessness and smiled gratefully. Bob beckoned the men to come in the hut.

They stood undecidedly at first, but finally, convinced that these strangers meant no harm, moved on in the dwelling.

Then the boys did all they could to convey the idea that they were thankful to the Indians for saving them from death from exhaustion, and in the end it looked as if they had succeeded. Not until the big chief smiled, however, did they feel secure, for there were grim looks on the faces of all the savages. But when the chief showed his teeth in friendship, the youths felt that the battle was won. With the head native on their side things looked a great deal brighter.

“Now for something to eat,” said Bob to his chum. “I’m not particular what it is, just so it’s nourishing.”

He put his hands to his mouth, and began working his jaws as if chewing. Then he imitated drinking. The chief understood, and he gave directions to one of his men, who dashed off to another part of the village.

Meanwhile the others stood gazing at the youths, who in their sun-tanned condition were scarcely less dark than the Indians themselves.

In a short time the Indian returned with plates and pots of food, which he placed on the ground beside them.

“Do you suppose the stuff’s all right?” asked Joe, hesitating to begin eating.

“Don’t know why it wouldn’t be,” Bob returned. “Why should they poison us? At present we’re too much of a curiosity to kill. They’ll at least wait for the novelty to wear off.”

The food tasted good despite the fact that the boys were ignorant as to what it was. They ate heartily, and in a very short time their strength was restored.

Then by signs they asked permission to walk around the village. At first the natives hesitated, but at last the chief nodded in approval, and the youths got to their feet.

“If we could just speak some of their language,” said Bob, as they went out of the thatched house.

“Be easy then,” affirmed Joe. “But maybe we can get them to take us to the river, and then Professor Bigelow can talk with them.”

The chief led the way around the settlement, pointing with pride to many articles that were the results of the Indians’ handiwork. Many objects were totally new to the boys, and they viewed them with interest. But when they came to one large hut they saw something that turned their blood cold with horror.

Hanging thickly on the walls were scores of dried human heads, their features perfectly preserved. In fact the ghastly trophies were so thick that there were no cracks between them.

Bob and Joe glanced around the room in terrible awe. Suddenly, as they turned about, their eyes fell on something that again caused them to be horror-stricken, this time more than before.

Near the corner were two heads that were—white!

“Explorers,” breathed Bob, rather nervously. “Or were they missionaries? At any rate these heads were those of white men—and they’ve been killed for their heads!”

The youths felt fairly sick, and once Joe reeled as if to fall. But he got a grip on himself and resolved to take matters as they were. At present they were in no danger. The terrible and yet genial chief seemed to be their friend. But how soon his lust to kill would come to the surface they did not know.

They spent no more time at the horrible trophy house, for it contained such things as one might see in a nightmare. Bob and Joe made up their minds to seek out something more pleasant.

They found it in a large board that had lines crossing and crisscrossing from one side to the other. The chief got out a box and took out several wooden pegs, which he placed in the spaces on the board. He moved them back and forth and laughed.

“Must be some kind of a game,” concluded Bob, thoroughly interested.

The boys spent several hours in touring the village, and although they were constantly enfolded by the crowd of curious savages, they enjoyed the experience. It was unique and different, but they felt some repulsion for the various activities carried on by these heathen people.

“All right for a visit,” mused Joe, “but I don’t think I’d care to live here.”

“I’d feel a whole lot safer back in the boats with our dads and the professor,” said Bob, as he thought of the hideous dried human heads. “Still,” he went on, “I suppose we should do all we can to help Professor Bigelow. Here is a chance for him to get plenty of information of the kind that he wants most.”

Late that afternoon Bob and Joe took the rifle and, motioning for the chief to follow, started into the jungle just back of the village. They intended to give the native a real surprise and thrill, such as he had never before had.

At last he went with them, probably wondering what the strange whites had in mind, but willing to find out.

“Maybe we can show him how to kill a jaguar,” said Joe, keeping a sharp watch over the forest.

No game was in the immediate vicinity of the village, owing to the frequent hunting trips made by the savages. But when they had gone several miles there came fresh signs that wild creatures were close by.

Suddenly they caught sight of a large tapir rooting in the tall grass.

Bob took the rifle and, motioning to the Indian, he pointed to the gun and then to the animal.

A moment later he pulled the trigger.

At the report of the weapon the big Indian jumped in fright and was on the verge of running back to the village, when Bob pointed again to the gun and then to the tapir, which was now dead. Then for the first time the chief caught the meaning, and he looked at the boys with something like worship in his eyes.

What strange magic was this? A long thing that spouted fire had killed a tapir instantly, without a struggle. These people must be gods.

From that moment on, the chief’s friendship for the youths increased to devotion, which at times promised to be embarrassing. But Bob and Joe did not care. This would be all the better opportunity for Professor Bigelow to secure information on the savages’ daily life and customs.

The three hunters trudged on farther, hoping to stir up more game. The boys wished particularly to get a shot at a jaguar, so that the power of the gun could be demonstrated still further.

“The old boy’d just about throw a fit if he saw the rifle pot off the king of Brazilian wild beasts,” smiled Joe.

At last they burst through a thick mass of vegetation and found themselves on the bank of a small stream.

At once Bob and Joe were wild with delight, for this stream evidently was a tributary of the river. And the river was what they wanted to find above all else.

“Hurrah!” cried Joe, overwhelmed with delight. “We’ve as good as found our party already!”