Tim's hard blue eyes and a glance at his
fist curled around the butt of his belt gun, the _bogas_ backed up. A
moment later they were thrown boldly into their own part of the boat by
Jose, who blistered them with the profanity of three languages at once.
Then McKay came through and took charge.

"That'll do, Tim! Same goes for you, Merry! Jose, I'll handle this. You,
Francisco! Get up!"

The curt commands struck like blows. Every man obeyed. And when the
squat steersman again stood up McKay went after him roughshod. In the
colloquial Spanish of Mexico and the Argentine, in the man talk of
American army camps, he flayed that offender alive. Jose himself,
efficient man handler though he was, stared at his captain in awe. And
Francisco, though not given to cringing, skulked like a beaten dog when
the verbal flagellation was finished.

Turning then to the Brazilians, McKay formally apologized for the
insults to them.

"It is nothing, senhor," coolly answered the bowman--though his glance
at the Peruvians said plainly that it would have been something but for
the swift punishment by the Americans. "Again I say--may God protect
you! Adeos!"

The Brazilian boat glided away. The Peruvian craft crawled on upstream
in silence.

When the next camp was made all apparently had forgotten the affair. The
men badgered one another as usual, though none mentioned Francisco's
split mouth; and Francisco, himself, albeit sulky, betrayed no sign of
enmity. After nightfall the regular camp-fire meeting was held and at
the usual time all turned in. One more night of listening to the sounds
of the tropical wilderness seemed all that lay ahead of the secret
sentinels.

Sleep enveloped the huts. Snores and gurgles rose and fell. Tim himself,
for the sake of effect, snored heartily at intervals, though his eyes
never closed. Through his mosquito bar he could see only vaguely, but he
knew any man walking from the crew's quarters must cast a very visible
shadow across that net, and to him the shadow would be as good a warning
as a clear view of the substance. But the hours crept on and no shadow
came.

At length, however, a small sound reached his alert ear--a sound
different from the regular noises of the bush--a stealthy, creeping
noise like that of a big snake or a huge lizard. It came from the ground
a few feet away, and it seemed to be gradually advancing toward his own
hammock. Whatever the creature was that made it, its method of p