won't be round here to
make no sour-caustic remarks and gum up yer party."

"Might be a good idea," McKay conceded.

"There he is now, the li'l' darlin'! Hullo, Joey, old sock! Stick around
a minute while I scoop a few more beans. Be with ye toot
sweet--vite--presto--P.D.Q."

Wherewith he demolished the rest of his meal with military dispatch,
proceeded doorward, smote the grinning army of Remate de Males a buffet
on the shoulder, and vanished into the night. A moment later his
stentorian voice rolled back through the nocturnal racket in an
impromptu paraphrase of an old and highly improper army song:

"We're in the jungle now,
We ain't behind the plow;
We'll never git rich,
We'll die with the itch.
We're in the jungle now!"

CHAPTER IV.

THE GERMAN

The door of the German's room opened. The German came out and marched to
the table. Two paces away he halted and faced the Americans, ready to
speak if spoken to, equally ready to sit and ignore them if not greeted.
McKay and Knowlton rose.

"Herr von Schwandorf?" inquired Knowlton.

"Schwandorf. Neither Herr nor von. Plain Schwandorf."

The reply came in excellent English, though with a slight throaty
accent.

"Knowlton is my name. Mr. McKay. The third member of our party, Mr.
Ryan, has just left."

Schwandorf bowed stiffly from the waist.

"It is a pleasure to meet you. White men are all too few here."

Seating himself at a place beyond that just vacated by Tim, he
continued, "You stay here for a time?"

"Not long." They reseated themselves. "We go up the river as soon as we
can arrange transportation."

The black brows lifted slightly.

"It is a dangerous river. You would do well to travel elsewhere unless
you have some pressing reason to explore this stream."

With an accustomed sweep of the hand he shooed the flies from the bean
dish and helped himself to a big portion. Over the legumes he poured
farinha in the Brazilian fashion.

"We have. We are seeking a tribe of people who paint their bones red."

Schwandorf's hand, conveying the first mouthful of beans upward, stopped
in air. His black eyes fixed the Americans with an astounded stare. He
lowered the beans, stabbed absently at a chunk of beef, sawed it apart,
popped a piece of it into his mouth, and sat for a time chewing. When
the meat was down he spoke bluntly:

"Are there not ways enough to kill yourselves at home instead of
traveling to this place t