e one hour. Then another man, and
so on. And how about letting Tucu lead the parade again?"

"Excellent, Capitao! I was thinking of that." Lourenco talked to Tucu,
who swung out into the current. The boat of the white men followed, then
the others. At a steady cruising speed the brigade surged on downstream.

Knowlton's allotted hour passed. Pedro took his place and was instantly
asleep. In turn he was aroused, and Lourenco laid down his paddle. But
just then Tucu's canoe slowed and floated in to the left bank.

The others backed water and looked at a very narrow ravine--almost a
cleft--in a rising hillside. Through it led a lane of water. From the
third boat, in which were two women of the Monitaya tribe, now came
voices carrying information to the Indian leader. At once he turned his
boat into the cleft.

"This is the connection we have been seeking." Lourenco explained. "The
women say the boats of their captors came through this crack in the
hill. At the end we shall find the creek of Monitaya."

The women spoke truth. After threading their way along the weedy
water-path, which was barely wide enough to give passage for the boats,
they emerged at a slant into another stream. Down this, with the sure
instinct for direction of the hereditary jungle-dweller, Tucu turned his
prow without asking the women whether to go with or against the current.
Once more on the waters of their home creek, the Mayorunas quickened
their strokes and howled merrily on toward their _malocas_.

Lourenco took his nap and resumed his place. Hour after hour the fleet
sped on. Noon passed without a halt, the paddlers munching at whatever
fragments remained from breakfast. By turns the Americans and Brazilians
each got another hour's sleep, McKay consenting to relax when all his
mates had rested. Rand dozed and awoke at intervals, seeming content and
comfortable despite his cramped position.

By four o'clock even the Mayorunas began to lag in their strokes.
Excluding the halt at sunrise, they now had been journeying for fifteen
hours, in the last nine of which they had covered many miles of
serpentine water. The heat of the day and the constant drive of the
paddles had taken their toll, and now the body of every man fiercely
demanded more food. McKay, knowing that in jungle travel distance is not
a matter of miles, but of hours, had begun to figure that the journey
which had taken nearly five days of overland work might be completed
that n