the harsh cries of unseen parrots flying two by two in
the sunlight above the matted branches. The world of the pathless tropic
wilderness, ever dying, ever living, was about its daily business. The
five invaders were about theirs.

As the paddlers dipped, however, Knowlton held back.

"Say, Rod, we didn't tell these fellows about Schwandorf's Indian. Hold
up a second, men."

While all rested on their paddles he spoke of the mysterious messenger
dispatched from Nazareth. Pedro and Lourenco contemplated the river,
then frowned.

"That may be of importance, senhores," said Lourenco. "It may change
everything for us. We saw a lone Indian go past the coronel's place,
traveling fast, three days before you came. I would give much to know
where he is now and what word he carries. A short man with a bad left
leg, you say. We shall keep watch for such a man. Perhaps we may meet
him."

Wherein he predicted more accurately than he knew.

The canoes swung out and the paddlers settled into the steady stroke to
which they were growing accustomed. Hour after hour they forged on, the
Brazilians adjusting their speed to that of the Americans, who had not
yet attained the muscular ease of habitual canoemen. The miles flowed
slowly but surely behind them, the sun rolled higher and hotter, the
silence of approaching noon crept over the jungle on either side. Then,
as the time drew near when they would land for a more hearty meal than
that of the morning, Pedro pointed ahead.

Up out of the bush on the Peruvian shore rose a vulture. It flapped
sullenly away as if disappointed. The bushmen, quick to note anything
that might be a sign, paid no attention to the bird's flight, but marked
with unerring eye the spot whence it had taken wing.

"Let us cross, comrades, and see what we may see," Pedro called. "If
nothing is there, we can eat."

But something was there. All saw it before they landed--the stern of a
small, speedy canoe almost concealed in a narrow rift at the bottom of
the bank. In the soil of the rising slope were the prints of bare feet.
And Pedro, scanning the tracks narrowly after he and the others reached
shore, asserted, "These were not made to-day."

Up the bank they climbed, silent and watchful. At the top Lourenco took
the lead. In under big trees the five passed in file. A short distance
from the edge Lourenco stopped, looking at the ground. The others spread
out and stared at the thing he had found.

Between t