co evaded.

"What do you plan to do now?"

"Eat--smoke--talk--sleep."

McKay eyed the bushman keenly, feeling that he was holding something
back. But, feeling also that this pair knew what they were about, he
bided his time. When all had eaten and tobacco smoke was blending with
that of the burning wood, Lourenco drew the arrow from the ground and
studied it. Then he passed it to Pedro, who, after a critical
examination, held it in the blaze until the deadly head was burned away.

"A big-game arrow of the cannibal Mayorunas," said Lourenco. "The point,
with its sawtooth barbs, is made from the tail bone of the araya, the
flat devilfish of the swamp lakes. That fish, as you perhaps know, has a
whiplike tail armed with that bone; and if he strikes the bone into your
flesh it breaks off and stays in the wound, and you are likely to die."

"But in that case death comes from gangrene," McKay remarked. "This
point has been dipped in wurali poison."

"You have seen such arrows before, Capitao?"

"Seen the poison before, yes. Over in British Guiana. The Macusi Indians
make it from the wurali vine, some bitter root or other, a couple of
bulbous plants, two kinds of ants--one big and black with a venomous
bite, the other small and red--a lot of pepper, and the pounded fangs of
labarri and couanacouchi snakes. They boil all this stuff down to a
thick syrup, and that's the poison. The man who makes it is sick for
days afterward."

"Our cannibals make that poison in much the same way. Yet Guiana is many
hundreds of miles from here, and our Indians know nothing of those
Macusi people. Queer, is it not, that the same plan should be used by
savages thousands of miles apart?"

"Rather odd. Must have started from some common source hundreds of years
ago and spread around. Queerest thing is, though, that a poison so
deadly doesn't spoil meat for eating."

"Huh?" exclaimed Tim. "Mean to say them cannibals can kill us by
scratchin' us with a poison arrer and then stummick us afterwards?"

"Exactly. You'd taste just as sweet as ever, Tim--maybe more so. Cheer
up! They say it doesn't hurt much to die that way; you're paralyzed so
quick you just sort of fade out."

Tim shook his head, his abhorrence of poison strong as ever. Knowlton
spoke.

"I've heard that this wurali poison is much overrated, that it will kill
only birds and monkeys, not men."

"_Por Deus!_ Whoever said that was a fool trying to appear wise!" Pedro
snorted