t was then, after the weeks of brooding
and confinement that nerves snapped and the picture of war formed
itself as a saving diversion before the blood-shot eyes of the savages.

At this stage no one was safe. The war party might at any moment find
itself ambushed by the very ones it hoped to surprise. The snap of a
twig; the dropping of a fruit from some tall tree; each sudden sound was
interpreted as the twang of a hostile bow. Overwrought nerves peopled
the jungle with spectral enemies; they found relief in combat and
destruction.

And, above all the scenes of desolation, above the turmoil and the
strife, the grim storm god ruled supreme, heartlessly sending new
deluges and crashing bolts in answer to the prayers for deliverance.

The Cantanas had ventured farther down the river than was their wont.
The season had been a remarkable one. Never had there been such
abundance along the stream that for many years had served as their
annual camping-ground. They revelled in the luxury of a care-free
existence. Fish teemed in the water; turtles came in hordes to visit
the sandbank; and birds in countless numbers filled the air with
twinkling wings and harsh screams. They had only to take, to eat, and to
make merry for it was not their nature to look too seriously upon the
morrow.

And then, like a fateful omen of troubled times on the horizon came the
first sign, the first warning of the impending change.

The tribe was small, reduced in numbers by the periodical inroads made
upon it by some of its neighbors. Also, led by an aged man who relied
more on charms and incantations than upon valor, it stood in a fair way
of utter extermination.

Among the men was a youth of promise, Oomah by name. He was a general
favorite, praised by the men for his deeds of courage and daring,
admired by the women and beloved by the children.

Oomah was only seventeen. Still, at that early age he stood half a head
above any other member of the tribe and was built in proportion. It had
been hinted on more than one occasion that he was to be their next
leader. But, if he knew of it, he gave not the slightest evidence of the
fact. He went about his affairs as stolidly as ever, indifferent to all
but the urge of the water, the lure of the forest and those other things
that rounded out the well-filled days of the annual period of
recreation.

And now the time had arrived when that period must soon come to a close.
But the sun was shining st