with that man. It was the red-boned wild man, and the wild man was very
lame, having a hurt foot. They stood and looked at each other, and then
the wild man walked away, watching him closely and ready to shoot with
his bow. After he disappeared in the forest this hunter heard a long,
shrill laugh and words that sounded like 'Podavi.'"

"Podavi--Poor Davy!" ejaculated Knowlton. "That's he, sure enough! Then
he's near his own town now--he won't go far with a bad foot. We'd better
move as soon as we can. Ask about an escort."

Once more the bushman conversed with Monitaya. The ruler's smile
disappeared. For some time he sat gazing out over the heads of all,
evidently weighing matters in his mind. When he responded, however, it
was without hesitation.

"There is neither friendliness nor enmity between the two peoples, as
has been said," Lourenco stated. "Our business among the Red Bones is
our own affair, not that of Monitaya, and Monitaya will make no requests
for us. But in order that we may go safely and return without harm he
will send with us twenty of his best men. These men will have orders to
protect us at all times, unless fighting is caused by our making a
needless attack on the Red Bones. In that case the Mayorunas will do
nothing to help us. They will only defend themselves."

"Fair enough!" nodded McKay. "Tell him we'll start no fight. If any
trouble comes it will be from the other fellows. We'll leave here
to-morrow morning."

Lourenco translated the promise into Mayoruna. But the chief seemed not
to hear. His eyes had narrowed and were fixed on the face of Tim, who
still lay on his back and was giving no attention to what went on.
Following his look, the bushman gazed critically at the red-haired man.

Tim's florid face had paled. His mouth was drawn and his eyes stared
straight up, wide and glassy. Slowly he rolled his head from side to
side.

"Gee! Cap," he whispered, hoarsely, "I et too much. My head aches so I'm
fair blind, and I'm burnin' up. Gimme some water."

With a swift, simultaneous movement McKay and Knowlton put their hands
on his forehead. Lourenco and Pedro leaned closer and peered into his
face. All four glanced at one another. Pedro nodded. His lips silently
formed one dread word:

"Fever!"

CHAPTER XVIII.

FRUIT OF THE TRAP

Heavy hypodermic doses of quinine, aided by Tim's rugged constitution
and the fact that this was his first attack of the ravaging sickness of
the