In Search of an Unknown Race — page 173: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

VAN. 161 ‘¢P’isened wid one o’ thim blow gun arrers—oh the murtherin’ cannibals!” he groaned, and covering his fat face with his hands, Father Felix, who was very tender-hearted, sobbed audibly. But the negro, only half realizing what had happened, raised the young man in his muscular arms as though he were a child. ‘‘Good Lord, Fader Felix!” he gasped, ‘‘dis yer boy mus’ be got out o dis—he’s only swounder like!” and without awaiting any response from the priest, he started back at a run, carrying his heavy burden with seeming ease. He was followed at a slower pace by the priest, whose rubicund visage was streaked with tears and perspiration. ‘‘What has happened ?” exclaimed Ninada, in a voice of repressed fear, as, accompanied by Manola, she ran down the steps of the veranda to meet the gigantic negro. Breathless and panting, Tom deposited the senseless form tenderly on the green sward under a silk cotton tree. ‘¢ He—he’s fainted, I reck’n, Miss Ninada,” panted the black. ‘‘ Tell ’em ter bring some licker or some- fin,” A half breed native servant of the priest’s, who had stepped from the house, strode to the spot where Ninada, with white, anguish-stricken face and clasped hands, was kneeling beside her cousin. Peering into the rigid features, he pushed up Van’s sleeve. As his eyes fell on the tiny wound, about which a bluish tint was gathering, he shook his head. ‘‘Him dead—killed wid pisen arrow!” said the native, rising to his feet, and looking accidentally or Gomichooks