ted the spot where the injured person lay.

It was under a great bombax tree, and on the shaded ground writhed a
man. The two stopped, horrified at the squirming figure. The man was
tearing at his face with his nails, and his countenance was bloody
with long scratches.

He cursed and moaned in Spanish, and Durkin, approaching closer,
recognized Juan the peon.

"Hey, Juan, what the hell's the matter? A snake bite you?"

The bronzed face of the sturdy little peon writhed in agony. He
screamed in answer, he could not talk coherently. He mumbled, he
groaned, but they could not catch his words.

At his side lay a small lead container, and closer, as though he had
dropped it after extracting it from its case, lay a tube some six
inches in length. It was a queer tube, for it seemed to be filled
with smoky, pallid worms of light that writhed even as Juan writhed.

"What's the trouble?" asked Durkin gruffly, for he was alarmed at the
behavior of the peon. It seemed to both tramps that the man must have
gone mad.

* * * * *

They kept back from him, with ready guns. Juan shrieked, and it
sounded as though he said he was burning up, in a great fire.

Suddenly the peon staggered to his feet; as he pushed himself up, his
hands gripped the tube, and he clawed at his face.

Perplexity and horror were writ on the faces of the two tramps. Maget
was struck with pity for the unfortunate peon, who seemed to be
suffering the tortures of the damned. He was not a bad man, was Maget,
but rather a weakling who had a run of bad luck and was under the
thumb of Durkin, a really hard character. Durkin, while astounded at
the actions of Juan, showed no pity.

Maget stepped forward, to try and comfort Juan; the peon struck out at
him, and whirled around. But a few yards away was the bank of the
stream, and Juan crashed into a black palm set with spines, caromed
off it, and fell face downward into the water. The glass tube was
smashed and the pieces fell into the stream.

"God, he must be blind," groaned Maget. "Poor guy, I've got to save
him."

"The hell with him," growled Durkin. He grasped his partner's arm and
stared curiously down at the dying peon.

"Let go, I'll pull him out," said Maget, trying to wrench away from
Durkin.

"He's done for. Why worry about a peon?" said Durkin. "Look at those
fish!"

The muddy waters of the stream had parted, and dead fish were rising
about the body of Juan. B