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“The old boy’d just about throw a fit if he saw the rifle pot off the king of Brazilian wild beasts,” smiled Joe.

At last they burst through a thick mass of vegetation and found themselves on the bank of a small stream.

At once Bob and Joe were wild with delight, for this stream evidently was a tributary of the river. And the river was what they wanted to find above all else.

“Hurrah!” cried Joe, overwhelmed with delight. “We’ve as good as found our party already!”

CHAPTER XXV
Reunion at Last

THE chief was puzzled by the actions of Bob and Joe, and the boys realized it, but there was no use trying to explain. It would take more than signs to convey the idea that more whites were near the river.

“Suppose we try to get him to go with us,” suggested Joe. “Think he will?”

“Hard to say. We’ll find out.”

The youths beckoned the Indian to come with them, and they were surprised to find that he did so without hesitation.

“He probably intends to do anything we ask from now on,” said Bob. “Our ability to kill wild beasts with fire was too much for him. Maybe he thinks he’ll die like the tapir if he refuses.”

There was a narrow trail along the bank of the stream, and Bob led the way down it, followed by Joe and the chief. The boys intended to make as much time as possible, for they wished to reach the river as soon as they could. How far away it was, they did not know. Perhaps a large number of miles.

“If we can just keep the chief with us everything will turn out fine,” said Bob.

All the rest of that day they trudged on, keeping their rifle ready for any savage jungle beast that might show itself. The Indian kept with them tirelessly, and many times he proved of valuable assistance in pointing out the easiest course through the underbrush.

Along toward evening they stopped at a large open space that was devoid of vegetation.

“Better stay here for the night, hadn’t we?” asked Joe.

“Yes,” Bob replied. “You stay here and build a fire while the chief and I go in search of game. Don’t think you’ll be in any danger. We’ll be back in a short time.”

Bob and the Indian started out down the bank of the stream, confident that they would see game sooner or later.

They had not far to go.

At a sharp bend in the trail a small animal, the name of which Bob did not know, darted out and made for the water.

But it did not get there.

Bang! came the report of the rifle, and the bullet sped straight. The creature fell dead at once.

This time the Indian did not show signs of fear, for he knew what was to come. Instead he looked at Bob with awe and wonder in his eyes.

Back at the clearing they found that Joe had started a large fire. The warmth of it felt good as the chill of the fast-approaching night fell.

“You did have some luck, didn’t you?” observed Joe. “Wonder if it’ll be good eating.”

“Hope so.”

The animal was skinned with Bob’s hunting knife and placed over the fire to bake. Then the three sat together to witness the falling of night. As usual it came suddenly, and they huddled closer to the fire.

In time the animal was thoroughly baked, and then they began the meal.

Suddenly the chief got up and dashed through the jungle out of sight, leaving the youths to wonder at this sudden departure.

“Think he’s gone?” asked Joe, trying to catch sight of the Indian through the dense vegetation.

“Doesn’t seem possible that he’d desert us as abruptly as this,” replied Bob. “He seemed to be all our friend.”

The youths waited silently, almost convinced that the man had left for good.

But a moment later he emerged from the jungle as suddenly as he had disappeared. In his arms were several varieties of what was evidently wild fruit.

He ran toward the boys with a smile as he glanced first at the roasted animal and then at the fruit he was carrying. When he reached the fire he deposited the stuff near, and then sat down to eat.

“A welcome addition to the meal,” said Bob joyfully. “Takes these savages to know what all the vast forest contains that’s nourishing.”

Nevertheless the young men were careful to see that the Indian ate first before they sampled any of the wild fruit.

“Take no chances,” remarked Joe. “Ten to one he means no harm, but it’s best to be on the safe side.”

The chief ate of everything, however, and then the boys followed suit. They found that all of the fruit was delicious, with flavors that they had never before tasted.

There were large, round melons, like a cross between a watermelon and a cantaloup. There were bulbs resembling potatoes, bunches of small bright-colored berries, and wild bananas.

It was a meal unlike any that the boys had ever eaten. They felt like savages themselves, and were delighted that soon they would come to the river.

“Won’t it be wonderful to see our party again?” asked Joe, deeply touched.

“Sure will,” Bob replied. “But we don’t want to be too sure that everything will turn out all right. Something else may turn up that’s not expected.”

After the feast the three sat in silence, watching the moon float silently and majestically over the great jungle.

At last Joe turned to put more fuel on the fire.

“Hadn’t some of us better turn in?” he asked. “We’ve had a tough time of it today and need rest.”

Bob agreed, and they set about arranging watches.

“I’ll be the first guard,” announced Joe. “You and the chief curl up by the fire and get some sleep. I’ll call you in a few hours. We’d better not disturb the Indian tonight.”

Thus it was arranged, and Joe sat idly beside the fire, his rifle near by.

His watch passed without incident, and at last he tapped Bob on the back. They changed positions, Joe retiring and Bob keeping a lookout for intruders.

Despite the fact that Bob had a strange feeling that something would happen, the night passed peacefully, although the youth was confident that wild animals were just beyond the zone of firelight.

In the morning Joe and the Indian were up early, preparing to hike on. The former still did not know where the boys were going or what their purpose was, but he showed no signs of hesitation.

“We want to see the river today,” remarked Bob, as they again took up the trail.

“I think we will,” the other youth returned. “We made good time yesterday, and if the luck continues, we will today.”

All morning they tramped without a stop. They were tired and exhausted, but did not wish to lose time until necessary.

About noon they came to another clearing, and Bob moved that they stop for the noon meal.

The chief and Joe went into the jungle a short distance away to gather wild fruit, which alone was to serve as their meal.

In a short time they returned with a bountiful supply, and then the feast began.

“Several new additions to our menu today,” remarked Bob, as he noticed that there were cocoanuts, roots like carrots, and a plant resembling cane.

The three ate heartily of everything, and then they started on.

“Stream’s getting wider,” observed Bob, several hours later.

“Yes,” returned Joe. “The river shouldn’t be very far away.”

He had scarcely uttered the words when they rounded a sharp curve and found themselves at the junction with the river.

For a moment the youths could hardly believe their eyes. Here at last was the thing they had been searching for all these days – the thing that would lead them to their fathers and the others of the party. Never had anything looked so good to them.

“At last!” breathed Joe, too delighted for words. “Now let’s hurry on up to the boats.”

“How do you know we should go up?” demanded Bob. “They could be easily farther downstream as well.”

“I know it,” was the response. “But it seems to me that I remember passing this stream several hours before we stopped.”

“All right. Let’s go.”

They had to search quite a while before a path was found that followed the river.

“If we keep up this good time, we’ll surely see the boats today – if they’re there to see,” said Bob, as he led the way up the trail.

Notwithstanding this, they hiked on constantly for the remainder of the afternoon without coming to the explorers’ boats.

“Perhaps if we fire rifle shots it will attract their attention,” said Joe, and he sent out three shots, repeating at intervals.

“What’s that?” said Joe, raising a hand for silence.

“Thought I heard an answering report,” he said. “But maybe – Yes, there it is again. And there.”

Two shots had sounded from afar, and at once the boys responded with Joe’s rifle.

“Now let’s move on upstream,” said Bob. “If we can meet them halfway it will be all the better.”

The youths again followed the trail, the Indian chief close behind them. They realized that the answering reports had come from afar and that it would take no little hiking to get to them.

About every five minutes Joe raised the rifle and fired, each time receiving an answering shot.

Finally, after an hour’s constant traveling, they heard a crashing sound in the jungle not far ahead, and they were on the alert at once.

A moment later Mr. Lewis and Mr. Holton emerged and looked about.

Their eyes fell on Bob and Joe, and the men rushed forward in intense relief and thankfulness.

“Boys!” cried Mr. Holton, almost unable to believe his own eyes.

The next instant they were stammering out words of thanksgiving at finding their sons alive and apparently none the worse for their experience.

“We didn’t see how you could possibly escape tragedy,” said Mr. Lewis gravely. “Getting lost in the vast Amazon jungle is a serious thing, especially when you have no food of any kind with you.”

“All the time we were in doubt as to how we’d come out,” said Bob. “Worst part of it was that we were afraid to hike far for fear of getting farther away from the river, but we knew we couldn’t get any place sitting down.”

“Tell us all about it,” urged Mr. Holton, and the youths related their experience from start to finish. They told of shooting the jaguar, of the necessary abandoning of Bob’s rifle, and of the flight that followed. And at last of coming across the strange tribe of Indians that was probably the one Professor Bigelow had been searching for.

“A fearful experience,” breathed Mr. Lewis, when the youths had finished. “Not many could have had such good luck. If you hadn’t come across the Indians, your fate would probably have been sealed by now.”

“But wait,” hesitated Joe, with a sudden recollection. “Here’s the chief of the tribe we got in with. We finally got him to come with us.”

He glanced around, but the Indian was nowhere in sight.

“Strange,” mused Bob. “He was here a few minutes ago. Could he have left?”

He called loudly, but it was unnecessary. The man had only stepped behind a bush, undecided as to whether to come in sight of the other whites, and at once left his place of concealment and walked out warily.

Bob and Joe beckoned for him to move up to them. At first he was uncertain, but finally concluded that it would be safe to venture nearer.

The boys introduced him as best they could by signs, and although it was rather awkward, they felt that much of his uncertainty vanished before the cordial attitude of Mr. Lewis and Mr. Holton.

“Now we must get to the boats,” Joe’s father said. “Professor Bigelow will be worried about us, if he is not by now.”

They hiked on up the river, the chief following.

“Won’t the old boy be surprised when he finds that Professor Bigelow can talk with him!” smiled Joe, as they rounded a long bend.

“That isn’t a strong enough word,” laughed Mr. Holton. “Still,” he hesitated, “we don’t want to be too sure that this Indian is from the tribe that the professor was searching for.”

The boats were several miles distant, and it would require several hours’ traveling to get to them. But the whites were all overly anxious and made good time.

At last, after passing through a thick grove of palms, they sighted the boats in the distance.

Professor Bigelow came running up at once, a broad smile of thankfulness on his bronzed, scholarly face. He gave the boys a welcome almost as warm as that of Mr. Holton and Mr. Lewis. The crew, too, took part in the reception and muttered words of joy at seeing Bob and Joe alive and unharmed. Even the Indians who had previously attempted desertion joined in, outwardly at least.

“But look here, Professor,” said Bob. “We’ve found the savage tribe you were searching for and have brought you the chief.”

“What!”

For answer Bob motioned for the Indian, who was standing several score feet down the path, to come closer. He grudgingly did so, and the professor was taken completely aback in surprise and joy. His eyes opened wide, and it was some time before he could regain his composure.

“How can I ever thank you enough?” he muttered, his eyes on the sober Indian. “We might have searched for days and days and then not found the tribe.”

He turned to the chief and said something that the others did not understand. At once the savage’s face lightened, and he began chattering so rapidly that the professor had to put up a hand for silence.

“I’m sorry, but I’m not that familiar with his language,” laughed the professor. “I think, though, that if he’ll talk slowly I may be able to understand him. Luckily he’s from the same tribe that Otari told about.”

Again Professor Bigelow turned to the Indian and this time asked him to talk more slowly.

He did, and a long conversation followed. It was broken and awkward, but in the end the professor gained a large amount of information. There was a smile on his face as he turned to the others.

“He says he will tell me all I want to know about his people if I will go with him to his settlement. His people will treat us all right. I don’t think there is cause to worry about that. What do you think about going?”

“All right with me,” returned Mr. Holton. “That was one purpose for coming up here, you know. And the chances are that we’ll find an abundance of fauna in those remote forests. I’m all for it.”

“Fine,” burst out Professor Bigelow. “Then we’ll go at once. But first,” he hesitated, “we’ll have to decide who will go and who will stay with the boats.”

“Why not take the boats with us?” suggested Joe. “The stream that Bob and I followed to the river is deep, even if it isn’t wide. I think we can easily paddle through.”

The others gave their approval at once, and they moved on up to the boats.

They decided to get a lunch first, however, for all were tired after the day’s strain. The chief was in no special hurry to get back to the village, as he had often left on long hunting trips alone.

Soon after the meal the provisions that had been taken out were packed in the boats, and then all climbed in.

“Now let’s make time,” urged Mr. Lewis, and the crew paddled them upstream.

The afternoon was rapidly wearing away, and before long it would be night.

At last Mr. Holton called to the crew to stop the boats.

“It’s unsafe to paddle farther,” he said. “Suppose we turn up into that little bay over there.”

The suggestion was carried out. Then they made camp.

“Hope nothing happens tonight,” said Bob, as he prepared to turn in for the night.

“I’m with you there,” his chum returned. “Somehow I’ve had enough thrills for a while.”

But he had no way of knowing how soon action would present itself in a big way.

The next morning they were up early, preparing to resume the journey shortly after breakfast. The chief of the strange tribe told Professor Bigelow that they should reach his village late that day, if all turned out well.

“I’m not especially anxious to get back among those wild men,” Bob said aside to his chum. “But we must do all we can to help Professor Bigelow.”

Late that afternoon the chief said something to the anthropologist and pointed to a clearly defined trail that wound away through the heavy vegetation.

“He says that here is where we leave the boats and head for his village,” the scientist told the others in animated tones.

“Fine!” exclaimed Mr. Lewis, also delighted that the journey had come to an end. “There’s a place that will act as a harbor,” pointing to a groove in the shore.

He directed the crew to paddle the boats to land, and as soon as this was done all climbed out and made the crafts fast to staunch trees.

Professor Bigelow turned to the savage and conversed for several minutes. Then he moved to the boats.

“The village isn’t far away,” he said. “It will be safe to leave our provisions here for the time being.”

As a precaution, however, and also because the naturalists wished to secure new specimens, they carried their rifles and a good supply of ammunition.

The chief led the way along the path, the others close at his heels. The path was so well cut that they had no trouble in walking along briskly. A half-hour, the Indian said through Professor Bigelow, would be all the time required to get to the village.

Suddenly the explorers heard a faint screaming and shouting that came from the village, and at once the chief began chattering nervously.

Professor Bigelow gave a groan and translated to the others.

“He says that probably a fight is taking place between his tribe and another,” said the scientist.

“What!” cried Mr. Holton excitedly. “Then that means that we whites may have to use our rifles after all. Ask him if the other tribe is using poisoned arrows.”

The savage nodded in affirmation when the question was put before him, and the whites tightened their grips on their weapons.

“I guess this means that we’re in for some excitement,” Bob confided to his chum, as the party again followed the trail.

Ten minutes later they parted the foliage and came abruptly within full view of the village. All uttered cries of consternation at the furiousness of the battle that was taking place between the two savage tribes.

CHAPTER XXVI
The Terrible Battle

SPEARS and arrows and darts flew thick and fast, striking down many a man on both sides. Fierce cries filled the atmosphere and made the Americans shudder. Here in the untamed wilds of Brazil was taking place as terrible a battle as the world had ever known. Savages – wild, hostile Indians – were the participants, and no people anywhere were more terrible when excited to insane fury.

For some time none of the explorers spoke. They were too captivated by the scene. But at last Mr. Holton turned thought into action.

“Get your rifles in readiness,” he commanded. “It’s up to us to drive this tribe away. The chief’s men seem unable to do it.

“Now we’re all good shots,” he went on. “Suppose we fire a volley of bullets and see if we can’t make them leave without bloodshed. If we can’t, we’ll have to shoot to kill. Come on, now.”

The whites raised their rifles, and, one at a time, pulled the triggers. Five shots rang out, much to the surprise of the savages. But as no damage seemed to be done by the strange reports, the Indians regained confidence and sent spears and arrows in the explorers’ direction. As a result, one of the crew went down, wounded in the thigh.

“We’ll have to shoot to kill,” said Mr. Lewis at once.

He raised his rifle and, taking careful aim, fired at the nearest native, who went down instantly.

Mr. Lewis’s shot was followed by those of the other whites, and at once panic ensued among the invading savages.

After only a thin defense, they took to their heels with cries of fright and bewilderment, leaving their dead and wounded behind.

“Guess that drove them off all right,” said Bob with a grim smile. “Come on, let’s – But wait! Look! The chief’s tribe is worshiping us.”

Bob was right. The Indians had fallen to their knees, waving their arms and muttering words that were not understood even by Professor Bigelow.

Even the chief, accustomed as he was to the rifles and the whites’ power to bring down animals, bowed his head in awe at his tribe’s deliverance.

It was a most embarrassing situation, and for a time the explorers were at a loss to know what to do next.

Finally Professor Bigelow walked forward and uttered kind words, at the same time raising hands for the savages to rise to their feet.

He succeeded well. At once they got to their feet and resumed something of their usual attitude, although they were not quite convinced that these people were not gods.

The chief went forward and conversed with them so rapidly that Professor Bigelow could not keep up.

“He’s telling of his visit to our camp,” the scientist said. “He perhaps considers it a much-prized experience.”

As soon as the chief had finished, the Indians jabbered excitedly, eager to get all the details. Occasionally they would look at the whites as if they considered them super-beings.

“They can’t get over the thought that we have higher powers than they have,” mused Bob. “But maybe,” he hesitated, his thoughts going back to the terrible trophy chamber of dried human heads that was one of the tribe’s prized possessions, “it will be just as well to let them go on thinking that way. It would be hard to say when they might turn against us if they thought we were ordinary persons.”

“Turn against us?” demanded Mr. Lewis, rather surprised. “What makes you think they would do that? They seem all right.”

“Don’t know that they would,” Bob replied, exchanging meaning glances with Joe. “Still it’s wise to be on the safe side.”

It was evident that Bob’s significant statement had the men highly puzzled. Finally Professor Bigelow demanded an explanation.

“There’s nothing to it – except that these people are headhunters,” said Joe. “If you don’t believe it just take a look at the place where they keep the heads. And say! They’ve killed a couple of white men, too.”

Astonished gasps came from Mr. Holton and Mr. Lewis, but not from Professor Bigelow. Anthropologist as he was, he had suspected this from the start. Very few savage tribes in the wilds of Brazil did not have that custom.

Suddenly a groan made all turn about, to see that the Indian of the crew who had been wounded by a spear had regained consciousness. His side apparently pained severely, for on his face was a look of agony.

Mr. Holton got to work at once.

“Ask the chief if we can have some water,” he said to Professor Bigelow. “Bob, suppose you run down to the boats and bring a box of antiseptic. Go as fast as you can. Meanwhile we’ll be taking care of others that were wounded.”

Bob grabbed a rifle and dashed off down the path for the stream.

He reached the boats in record time and hurriedly got out a box of first-aid materials. Then he made his way back to the village.

But he had gone only a few yards when a fluttering noise caused him to look up.

At once his jaw dropped in astonishment, and a look of surprise and wonder came on his face.