"Guess not," McKay answered, serenely, turning toward the hotel. "Come
on, boys. Let's get our stuff ready to ride."

Less than two hours later their rooms were vacant, their duffle was
stowed in the long dugout, the Peruvian crew stood arrogantly eying the
Brazilians who had gathered to witness the departure, and the Americans
were bidding good-by to Remate de Males in general and its German
resident in particular.

"Mr. Schwandorf, we thank you for your efficient aid," said Knowlton,
extending a hearty hand. "You have helped us to get going with all
dispatch, and we trust that we can repay the favor soon."

"You owe me no thanks," was the curt reply. "I would expect you to do as
much for me if our positions were reversed. I wish you luck."

"Get aboard, Tim!" McKay ordered, setting the example himself. Tim
obeyed, first giving the important Joao d'Almeida Magalhaes Nabuco
Pestana da Fonseca a real American handgrip and getting in return a
double embrace from that worthy official. Whereafter he winked and
grinned expansively at several women garbed in violent hues of red,
yellow, and green, frowned slightly at Schwandorf, lit the last cigar he
was to smoke for many a long day, and, as the dugout began to move,
erupted into a more or less musical farewell to the females of the
species:

"The Yanks are goin' away,
Pa-a-arley-voo!
They're movin' on to-day,
Pa-a-arley-voo!
The Yanks are goin' away, they say,
Leavin' the girls in a heartless way,
Rinkydinky-parley-voo!"

With one final wave of his cigar to the gesticulating Joao and the
grinning women he turned his back on the town and faced the little-known
river and the inscrutable jungle. But neither his eyes nor his thoughts
traveled beyond the bow of the boat. Through narrowed lids he studied
the swaying paddlers and the piratical Jose. And in his mind echoed the
whispered warning of Joao, delivered during the effusive embrace at
parting:

"Comrade, watch those _bastardos Peruanos_."

CHAPTER VI.

IN THE NIGHT WATCH

Day by day the long canoe crawled into the vast unknown. Day by day the
down-flowing jungle river pushed steadily, sullenly against its prow, as
if striving to repel the invasion of its secret places by the
fair-skinned men of another continent. Day by day it slid past in
resentful impotence, conquered by the swinging blades of the Peruvian
_bogas_. And day by day the close companionship of