Adventure Magazine, April 10, 1924 — page 99: what you’re looking at

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

The King of No Man’s Land with utter silence, was proceeding up the new stream. In steady succession the crowded canoes behind crept up and berthed above that of José, disgorging their crews into the bush. Nobody spoke. The only sounds were rustlings among the leaves and the distant yapping of toucans somewhere farther up- stream. At length all were ashore and the canoes secured to snags or bush-stalks. Then José, who had been critically watching, turned to the Americans and calmly spoke. “I am hungry,” he said. “Let us eat some monkey-paste and——” “Cripes!”’ snorted Tim. “Eat? How quick do we git into action?” 3 “T have not said anything about action, have Ip” | “No, ye dummy, but we’re wise. g va le José looked keenly at him, then laughed. To Aillu, who now stood beside him, he muttered some command. The chieftain passed into the bush, grunting briefly to the warriors. They coolly got their tubes of meat and masata and fell to eating. “All in good time, friend Tim, all in good time,” said José. “The scouts must first smell out the land, and it may take some time. So we had best be patient and eat. And how do you know so much about my purpose here?” “Never mind. Mebbe I dremp it last night—though I still dunno why ye come here to scrap with Jiveros when we want to git to the Warm Beezers.”’ “That is what you shall soon learn.” “Yeah? Thanks!” Tim’s tone was sarcastic. He might have said more, but a head-shake by McKay silenced him. Some time passed. José was taciturn. The others ate and waited. At length a voice began to mumble, and the Americans - stared in astonishment at Curac, reporting to his commander. There had been no sound to indicate his coming, and he seemed to have materialized from the air. Aillu, too, was now standing beside José and listening. After a short conference the pair turned away and were gone in the bush. José, lounging against a tree, carefully dug up a little rubber pouch and began making a cigaret. “Say!” blurted Knowlton. “When do we fightr™ Let’s 97 “Not yet. There is plenty of time. The place is not far. Let my capitanes arrange their forces.” “Big place?” asked McKay, moving his head in the supposed direction of the Jivero settlement. José shrugged noncommittally, struck a match and puffed at his roll of bark and tobacco, regarding the restive trio with a mocking expression. He smoked the cigaret very deliberately, and not until it was reduced to a tiny stub did he move. Meanwhile the Indians nearest at hand remained squatting, only the slight movements of their carbines or lances betraying the tension of the wait. Those who had landed farther up-stream were out of sight in the thick growth. At last, with the same deliberation, José moved to his canoe. “Vamos,” he said. McKay strode to the dugout, and Knowl- ton and Tim to theirs. Then McKay checked, glancing at Nuné, who had been an impassive waiter and who now sought to resume her usual place. “Going to take her into this row?” he asked. “Why not? Are we not able to defend her? Get in.” Nuné was in place already, and José also. With no further comment, McKay took his own place. The paddlers gave way, and the canoe glided down-stream, then swerved into the tributary where Curac had gone scouting. Curac now had mysteriously disappeared again, and José was heading the line. The boat proceeded slowly. McKay, narrow-eyed and tight-jawed, peered fixedly ahead. José sat more loosely, though with rifle ready. Nuné remained impassive. In the next canoe, Knowlton and Tim leaned forward, tense and eager. And behind them came other dugouts bristling with weapons. Bend after bend was rounded, and still no sign of Jiveros was seen. Suddenly every man jumped as if fired upon from the bush. The silence had been shattered by an inferno of noise. Gun-shots crashed in a sustained roar. A howling chorus of ferocity mingled with a prolonged screech of fear and hate. The uproar came from some point not far ahead, the noise rolling down the tree-arched creek like a wall of water sweeping through a tunnel. And it kept coming. Co DOOLK (C@ S|