t and watched for the shadow of
death to blanch the face of their stricken mate.

But the minutes dragged past and Yuara's eyes did not grow dim. His
first resignation over and his fighting blood aroused, he was battling
grimly against fate. At times his deep respirations were broken by
sudden gasps, and spasmodic quivers shook his whole body. But he
breathed on, paying no heed to the burning pain of his ripped and salted
arm.

"By cripes! he's puttin' up a man's scrap!" blurted Tim. "Stay with it,
old feller. Ye'll win out yet!"

And as more minutes passed and the wounded man still breathed, a murmur
of wonderment passed among the cannibals and the men of Nunes. Yuara
should be dead, yet he was not even paralyzed. Such a thing had never
before been known in this bush.

Lourenco touched Pedro's arm.

"Find a spot where we can make camp," he said. "I must stay here to
speak to the wild men if words are needed."

Reluctantly Pedro went away. Soon he was back with news of a suitable
place. He found all bending closer over Yuara, whose breathing had
become stertorous and whose eyes seemed fixed.

"Going!" was the bushman's thought. But the others would not have it so.

"How 'bout a shot o' booze to jolt his heart, Cap?" suggested Tim, whose
whole soul was in the fight.

McKay nodded. Knowlton quickly produced brandy and poured a stiff dose
down Yuara's throat. It took hold at once, and light came back into the
Indian's eyes.

"Got a good chance yet," McKay asserted. "Don't loosen that tourniquet.
Let the arm mortify, if necessary, but hold that blood away from the
heart at all costs. I'll chop his arm off at the shoulder before I'll
give in."

His hard-set face showed he meant it.

Lourenco spoke to the Mayorunas, urging that camp be made at once. He
and Pedro strode away, and all three of the Indians followed.

"Really think he'll pull through, Rod?" Knowlton asked, then. "If he
does you're a miracle worker."

"It's an experiment," McKay confessed, watching Yuara with unswerving
intentness. "Never saw this done, but it's worth a try--and I honestly
believe it will work. I saved an Indian over in Guiana once by cutting
off his arm as soon as he was hit, but I want to keep this fellow's arm
for him if possible. Feed him some more salt."

Time passed unheeded. Sounds of labor not far off told that camp was
being built. Presently the absent five returned, two of the Mayorunas
carrying a crude but strong lit