guard
lest they become the hunted instead of the hunters.

For the past two days they had moved thus. The last fresh meat had been
shot miles down the river, where a well-placed bullet from the rifle of
McKay had downed a fat swamp deer. Since that day not a gun had been
fired. The rations now were tough jerked beef and monkey meat, slabs of
salt pirarucu fish, and farinha, varied by tinned delicacies from the
stores of the Americans. Henceforth gunfire was taboo unless it should
become necessary in self-defense.

At length the fore canoe halted with an abruptness that told of back
strokes of the blades hidden under water. McKay, bowman of the trailing
craft, also backed water, while his mates held their paddles rigid. The
two boats drifted together.

"This is the place," Lourenco said, speaking low.

The Americans, scanning the shore, saw nothing to differentiate the spot
from the rest of the wilderness growth. Yet Lourenco's tone was sure.
Pedro's face also showed recognition of his surroundings. With no
apparent motion of the paddles--though the wrists of the paddlers moved
almost imperceptibly--the canoe of the bushmen floated to the bank. They
picked up their rifles, twitched their bow up on land, and turned their
faces to the forest.

"Stay here," was Pedro's subdued command, "until you hear the bird-call
which we taught you down the river."

He and Lourenco faded into the dimness and were gone.

"Beats me how them guys find their way 'round," muttered Tim. "I could
land here twenty times hand-runnin', but if I went away and then come
back I'd never know the place."

"It's all in the feel of it," was McKay's low-toned explanation. "They
find places and travel the bush as an Indian does--by a sixth sense.
Take them to New York City, guide them around, then turn them loose--and
they'd be hopelessly lost in ten minutes."

The others nodded agreement and sat watching. In the shadows no creature
moved. Afar off some bird cried mournfully like a lost soul condemned to
wander forever alone in the grim green solitudes. No other sound came to
the listeners save the ever-present hum of the big forest mosquitoes, to
which they now had become indifferent. For all they could see or hear of
their two guides, they might as well have been alone. Yet they knew the
Brazilians were not far away, threading the maze with sure step and
scouting hawk-eyed for any sign of danger.

At length a long soft whistle sounded in the