ot so readily
impressed, and, with shrugging shoulders, he made answer:

"Well, uncle, I'm not quite so ambitious as all that comes to. May I
give you my idea of it all?"

CHAPTER VIII. A DUEL TO THE DEATH.

Professor Featherwit nodded assent, and, after a brief chuckle, Waldo
resumed:

"You can take all those big fellows with the jaw-breaking names, but as
for me, smaller game will do. Maybe a fellow couldn't fill his bag quite
so full, nor quite so suddenly, but there would be a great deal more
sport, and a mighty sight less danger, I take it!"

It was by no means difficult to divine that the professor had not yet
spoken all that busied his brain, but the thread was broken, his pipe
was out, and, emptying the ashes by tapping pipe-bowl against the heel
of his shoe, he rose erect, once more the man of action.

"You will have to clear up, lads, for I must make such few repairs as
are necessary to restore the aerostat to a state of efficiency. So long
as that remains in serviceable condition, we will always have a method
of advance or retreat. Without it--well, I'd rather not think of the
alternative."

That dry tone and quiet sentence did more than all else to impress
the brothers with a sense of their unique position. Back came the
remembrance of all they had gathered concerning this strange scope
of country since first settling down fairly within the shadows of the
Olympics, there to put that strange machine together, preparing for what
was to prove a wonder-tour through many marvellous happenings.

Times beyond counting they had been assured by the natives that no
mortal could fairly penetrate that vast wilderness. Natural obstacles
were too great for any man to surmount, without saying aught of what lay
beyond; of the enormous animals, such as the civilised world never knew
or fought with; of the terrible natives, taller than the pines, larger
than the hills, more powerful by far than the gods themselves, eager to
slay and to devour,--so eager that, at times, living flesh and blood was
more grateful than all to their depraved tastes!

"Do you really reckon there is anything in it all, Bruno?" asked the
younger brother in lowered tones, glancing across to where their uncle
was busily engaged in those comparatively trifling repairs.

"It hardly seems possible, and yet--would the members of four different
tribes tell a story so nearly alike, without they had at least a
foundation of truth to go upon?"