The Project Gutenberg eBook, Lost in the Wilds of Brazil, by James H. Foster

LOST IN THE WILDS OF BRAZIL
JAMES H. FOSTER

A large wildcat was greedily devouring the remains of a small deer.

LOST IN THE WILDS OF BRAZIL

JAMES FOSTER

THE SAALFIELD PUBLISHING COMPANY
Akron, Ohio New York

Copyright, MCMXXXIII
The Saalfield Publishing Company
Lost in the Wilds of Brazil
PRINTED IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA

The Exploration Series
By James Foster
Lost in the Wilds of Brazil
Captured by the Arabs
Secrets of the Andes
The Forest of Mystery

CONTENTS

CHAPTER I
A Startling Discovery

“LOOK here, Joe. There’s something stirring. I know the signs. Our dads wouldn’t keep together constantly, studying maps and reading books and making frequent trips to the museum, for nothing. It——”

“You’re right, Bob. They certainly must have something important in mind. And I have an idea as to what it is.”

“Another expedition into the unknown,” cut in Bob Holton, in tones that implied certainty.

“But where, do you suppose?” asked Joe Lewis, his brown eyes sparkling with interest.

“More than I know,” the other youth replied. “Could be any place. But wherever it is, I’ll bet they’ve been there before. They just travel from one end of this little old world to another in search of birds and reptiles and animals, and they always find them.”

“And always will,” added Joe with strong conviction. “Why,” he went on, becoming even more absorbed, “do you remember the time they went to Africa in search of a white rhinoceros?”

“Yes. Looked high and low for several months, and finally got one after all hopes had been abandoned. Oh, it takes them to do it. Just let the curator mention the things wanted, and if it’s at all possible, our dads will get them. All specimens are alike to——”

He was interrupted by the sound of footsteps from the side of the house and turned to see who the person might be. While he is looking expectantly, it might be well to tell who the boys were, and what had been their experiences up to the time this story opens.

Bob was a big fellow, strong and muscular, and endowed with the ability to do the right thing at the right time. He was one of the star players on the high school football team. Everyone liked him—he was so straightforward and sympathizing and trustworthy.

Joe was of medium size, with almost black eyes and a naturally dark complexion. He was lighter and less robust than his friend, but was possessed of fierce courage and bravery. He never started a thing without finishing it.

Mr. Holton and Mr. Lewis, fathers of the youths, were noted naturalists and collectors of specimens for museums and zoos. They had been nearly everywhere and always welcomed any hint that might start them on a new trip into the unknown. The two men had met several years before at a convention of scientists, and took a great liking to each other. As they both lived in Washington, D. C., they agreed to work together in behalf of a large museum, and Mr. Lewis made an attempt to purchase the residence next to that of his friend. He was at last successful in acquiring it, and then began the warm friendship between the two youths, Bob and Joe.

The boys were together much of their time and got along excellently, following in their fathers’ footsteps as much as possible by taking hikes into the woods to study nature. Fresh with the vigor of youth, they were having a grand time together, but would have had a still greater one had they been permitted to accompany the men on the various scientific expeditions.

“You’re only freshmen,” Mr. Holton had told them, about three years before. “Wait till you’re juniors or seniors, and then perhaps we will consider taking you along.”

Now the boys were in their senior year, or would be when school opened the coming fall, and were eagerly anticipating the future.

“If they’d only make a trip this summer,” said Joe, shortly after school had closed. “Then we might——”

Let us return to the boys, as they cast glances at the side of the house. The sound of footsteps grew louder, and the next moment Bob’s father came into view.

“Hello, Dad.”

“Hello, Mr. Holton.”

The naturalist returned the greetings and then made his way to a porch seat. Several moments he spent in lighting a cigar. Then he turned to the youths.

“What’s all this praise you’ve been giving Mr. Lewis and me for our scientific work?” he asked, trying hard to suppress a smile.

The young men grinned. They had not suspected this.

“You got it right,” returned Joe. “You two have done as much for the museum as anyone else in this old U. S. And that’s as straight as a lion’s tail when he’s about to charge.”

Mr. Holton laughed unbelievingly.

“I know your game,” he chuckled. “You’re paving the way to accompany us on that Brazilian trip we’re about to take. Right?”

Bob and Joe jumped to their feet in wild excitement. A trip to Brazil! Think of that! Then their supposition was correct. Something was stirring after all.

Mr. Holton guessed their thoughts and broke the short period of suspense.

“It’s an expedition to the jungles of the Amazon,” he explained, as the boys seated themselves and listened with breathless interest. “Going to get specimens of fauna for the museum. In addition, we wish to make a study of several wild Indian tribes there. It’s a trip I’ve always wished to take, but, strange to say, I’ve never had the opportunity. You boys probably know that this region is one of the least-known on the face of the globe. It has the world’s heaviest forests, some of the most savage of people, and a wide variety of birds and beasts.”

“Great!” blurted out Joe in a strange, animated tone. “How wonderful it would be! Away out in the wildest of Brazilian wilds, seeing strange and astonishing things—things that only a very few have the opportunity of seeing.”

“It’s my idea of adventure,” declared Bob, taking up where his friend had left off. “Why can’t you arrange to take us with you?”

The scientist eyed the young men intently with an expression of sympathy.

“Then you want to go that badly?” he asked, and then his eyes fell. He had been young himself once. How often had he visualized this very mission! How many times had he tramped through the heavy Western woods, imagining himself in a great tropical forest, with its mysteries, thrills, and tragedies! If those longings could only have been satisfied when they were strongest!

For over a minute Mr. Holton stared thoughtfully at the floor. Then, with twinkling eyes, he glanced up at the boys.

“What would you give to go with us?” he asked, his face brightening.

“What!” cried Bob, with a look that combined delight with bewilderment. “You mean that we can go?”

“Not exactly,” was the reply. “I just asked you what you’d give to go.”

“Everything!” blurted out Joe. “Everything we’ve got—and then some. Oh, do take us, Mr. Holton,” he went on more pleadingly. “We’re old enough by now to take care of ourselves.”

“I’d like to have you,” the naturalist said. “And so would your father. But your mothers——” Here he stopped. It was unnecessary to continue. The youths understood.

“But I’m sure they’ll consent,” Bob said, with a certainty that he was far from feeling. “Especially if they know you are willing to have us.”

“Of course there’s a possibility,” the man assured them. “But I wouldn’t be too sure of it. You know how they are. Unwilling to have their sons take any unnecessary risks. Well, perhaps they’re right,” he went on, tapping the chair thoughtfully. “Perhaps it isn’t best to tax good fortune too much. You boys are young and have a great future before you. What if anything should happen——”

“But, Dad,” Bob pleaded, “nothing will happen. We’d be with you and Mr. Lewis—and anyone else who would be along. Nothing has happened to you so far. You’ve always come back O.K.”

“We’ve had some narrow escapes, though,” with a shaking of the head. “Fever, wild beasts, savages, hurricanes—there’s no limit to the number of tragedies that may befall an expedition into the unknown. But then,” his tones became more lively, “you boys want to go with us regardless of these dangers, and if I must say so, I believe you’d make a good showing. I’ll talk the matter over with Mr. Lewis and your mothers and let you know later how things look.”

“Fine!” cried Bob, overwhelmed with joy. “Now tell us some more about this mission. What section of Amazonia do you intend to explore?”

“The lower middle,” was the response. “We intend to follow the Amazon to the Purús River, where we’ll branch off and travel by native canoes for approximately five hundred miles.”

Joe gave a long whistle.

“Five hundred miles by canoe!” he gasped, almost unbelievingly. “Seems almost impossible. How can you take food enough along?”

“Does seem sort of absurd. But we’ll manage it. And we expect to live on game and fish to a certain extent. Everything will have to be timed to a dot. We won’t dare stay any longer than our food supply lasts. When that begins to get low, back to civilization we’ll go.”

“How long do you expect to be gone?” Bob asked.

“We—ll, perhaps three or four months. We want to get as much done as possible. You see,” he explained, “as I said before, our stay is limited to the supply of provisions we have with us. If it were possible to carry enough, I would like to spend at least six months there. What a wonderful opportunity to study primitive man in his everyday life.”

“Should think it would be rather dangerous,” remarked Joe. “He might object and study you instead. Headhunters, I mean.”

“It’s a chance we have to take,” was the reply. “But after all, if we treat them kindly there is little danger. Human nature is much the same all over the globe.”

“I’ll trust you to come out all right,” Bob said.

“We hope to,” the scientist returned. “And we also hope to add greatly to the world’s knowledge of Brazil and its animal inhabitants.”

“At present that isn’t very much, is it?” Joe asked.

“You can’t exactly say that,” Mr. Holton answered, “for a large amount is known about different sections that have been more or less frequented by civilized man. But when you refer to the deeper, more inaccessible regions, then it’s different. Of course there have been numerous expeditions sent out to explore these unknown sections, but even now there is a large and interesting field open to the scientist.”

“Well,” said Bob, after a short silence, “I only hope that Joe and I may go with you.”

“We’ll see about it,” his father replied. “But I can assure you that consent from your mothers will not come without considerable—— Well! Look who’s here. Come on the porch and sit down, Ben.” He referred to Joe’s father, Mr. Lewis, who, as usual, was to be his intimate companion during their stay in Brazil.

Mr. Lewis was a man of medium height, with sparkling blue eyes and a complexion that was extremely bronzed.

“Hello, friends,” he greeted, seating himself and wiping the perspiration from his brow. “I suppose,” he said to Mr. Holton, “you’ve been telling the boys about our coming expedition to South America. Right?”

“Right!” echoed Bob. “And not only that, but Joe and I are going with you.”

“What’s that!” Mr. Lewis cried in surprise.

“Yes,” Bob’s father returned, “they’ve put in their request to be a part of the expedition. What do you think of it?”

“Well—a—I hardly know. How do you think their mothers will look at it?”

Mr. Holton shook his head.

“Impossible to say,” he answered. “But we can all guess. Still, if we see fit to take the boys along, we can put the matter before them. They may consent after considerable pleading.”

“Hurrah!” cried Joe, in tones of gratitude. “And I’m sure——”

He stopped suddenly and sniffed the air sharply.

“There’s something burning,” he said quietly, and then moved around the house.

The next instant he was back, pale-faced and panic-stricken.

“Our garage is on fire!” he cried. “It’s all ablaze!”

CHAPTER II
Firebugs at Work!

AT Joe’s ominous words, Mr. Lewis leaped to his feet.

“Come on,” he said in wild excitement. “We can’t get there any too quickly, for not only are the cars in danger but a satchel of valuable papers as well.”

“Something in connection with our expedition to Brazil?” asked Bob’s father, as he took second place in the race to the garage.

“Yes. They’re very important. I should have taken them in the house at once.”

As they turned to look at the scene, a feeling of helplessness crept over them, for already the blaze had leaped high in the air, and the crackling sound told that the fire had made considerable headway.

Bob rushed into the house and telephoned the fire department. Then, with Mrs. Lewis and Joe’s sister, he moved back outside, to see that the structure was blazing even higher.

Meanwhile the others had unlocked the doors and were inside, doing their best to roll out the cars. But the smoke was so thick that they were making little headway.

“Quick!” cried Mr. Holton. “Where are the keys, Ben?”

“I don’t know. I—I can’t seem to find them. Should be in my pocket. No, guess I left them in the house.”

The next instant he was gone, leaving his friends to survey the situation more carefully.

“It strikes me,” remarked Bob thoughtfully, “that if we wait for him to return with the keys it will be too late.”

“But what—how——” Mr. Holton stammered, but was interrupted by his son.

“The only way that I can see is to break the glass in one of the doors. Then we can get inside to release the emergency brake. How about it?”

“I’d hate to do that, my boy. Yet there seems to be no other way out.”

As Bob had stated, it was evident that if they were to wait for the keys the cars would be badly burned. There was a possibility that the gasoline tanks might even explode, for at intervals particles of ignited timber fell from the blazing roof and missed them only a few inches. Rapidly the flames crept downward. Already they were halfway down the wall and moving like lightning. There was no time to lose. Something must be done!

“Come on,” Bob urged, entering the garage once more. “We must get those cars out at any cost.”

He looked about for some object with which he could break a glass, but could see nothing.

“If there was only a board, or even——”

“Here,” came from his father, moving on up with a sharp piece of metal, “let me do it.”

There was a crash, a splintering of glass, and the next moment Mr. Holton was inside. It took but a second to release the parking brake, and then the car rolled easily out of danger.

“There,” panted the naturalist, rubbing his hand over his forehead. “Now to get to the coupé.”

Just then there came the sound of fire bells, and before they had attended to the other car, several fire trucks pulled up in front of the house. Their occupants were easily attracted to the scene of the fire, and they lost no time in hurrying back.

“Quick!” yelled Joe, almost panic-stricken. “Let’s get Dad’s private car out. The enamel is already off the left front fender.”

Again Mr. Holton made use of the iron pipe, and the remaining automobile was pushed out just in time to avoid a large section of the roof that suddenly caved in.

“A narrow escape!” breathed Bob, stopping only for a moment to examine the finish that had been slightly scorched.

“A very narrow one,” returned Joe, as he thought of what would have happened had the roof fallen on the top.

By now two lines of hose had been attached, and firemen were working unflinchingly to check the cruel flames which, owing to a strong north wind, were protruding several yards beyond the roof. Occasionally a spark would fly over to the house, and this did not in the least simplify the efforts of the fire fighters.

A large crowd had gathered to view the spectacle and included several of Bob’s and Joe’s friends who lived near by.

“Some blaze, eh, fellows?” was the comment made by John Peterman, a classmate in school.

“The biggest I’ve seen for an age,” put in Tom Rogers, another friend.

“How’d it start?” asked another.

“Beyond us,” answered Bob. “Do you have any idea, Joe?”

“No. I’m sure Dad wouldn’t have left a cigar stub——”

“Impossible,” his chum broke in, “for that blaze started on or near the roof.”

Mr. Lewis had now joined the others, and his delight was beyond words when he saw that the cars had been removed in time to avert disaster.

“I kept thinking that I could find the key,” he said. “I finally did, but not in time to save them.”

Gradually the flames were diminishing, and if the firemen kept up the good work it promised to be over in a short time.

“Good thing that your garage is quite a distance over,” remarked Joe to his friend. “One is bad enough without having two on fire.”

Finally the last blaze was extinguished amid a rousing cheer from the crowd, and, after closer examination inside, the firemen left the scene, and the crowd gradually thinned until no one was left but Bob, Joe, their fathers, and a few neighbors.

“Covered by insurance, isn’t it?” inquired Bob of Mr. Lewis, as they cast a resentful look at the charred beams of the structure that had once been a fine garage.

“Yes, but this may delay our expedition to Brazil for a week or two until I can look after the reconstruction of it. That is”—he glanced at Mr. Holton—“unless your father objects.”

“Not in the least,” came from that individual. “In fact,” he went on, “that is about the only way out.”

Bob and Joe walked into the burned building. All about were ashes—ashes that had once been the roof of the structure. The charcoal smell was strong about them.

“Don’t know where we’ll keep the cars tonight,” said Joe, glancing up through the hole in the roof.

“Guess we can find room in our garage,” his friend replied. “We only have the one car, and it doesn’t take up all the room by any means.”

“Awfully good of you.”

Suddenly Bob uttered an exclamation that brought his friend hurrying to his side.

“What is it?” Joe asked.

For answer the other youth pointed to a small tin box that was black from being in the fire. It had hung on the wall behind an old radiator hood, which had a moment before fallen to the floor.

“What could that be?” Bob Holton asked. “Does it belong to your dad?”

Joe reached up and took it down from its hanger.

“Has a hole in the top. And what’s that thing protruding from the side?”

“Beyond me. Could be a—— Great Scott! Come on. We must get it to your father at once.”

Bewildered, Joe followed his friend to the back door, where the two men were still conversing.

“What does this mean?” asked Bob coolly, handing the box to Mr. Lewis.

The latter examined it closely for a moment. Then, suddenly grasping the meaning, he stared at the others.

“Firebugs at work!” he exclaimed, fumbling the box nervously. “Someone set the garage on fire!”

CHAPTER III
Valuable Information

AT the remark Mr. Holton gasped in astonishment.

“Who would it be?” he asked. “Has anyone got anything against you?”

“Not that I know of,” Joe’s father replied. “Let me think.”

He assumed a mood of thoughtful anxiety, and Mr. Holton took the small box for a closer examination. It was about eight inches square, with a hole in the top out of which protruded a short iron stem. Inside, an alarm clock was still ticking.

“Hmm! That fire was probably set for ten o’clock,” Mr. Holton murmured, as he noticed that it was now nearly eleven.

“How long ago do you suppose it was set?” inquired Bob.

“Impossible to say,” the response came. “It couldn’t have been more than twelve hours ago, however.”

Mr. Lewis looked up.

“I can think of several people who could be bad enough to do this,” he said thoughtfully. “But I cannot say which one it would be.

“First I might mention a man who wanted to buy some specimens from me, but I declined to sell them. He had a sour disposition, and his temper was thoroughly aroused when, after he had offered large sums of money, I refused him. Said he’d get even some time.”

“What’d he want with them?” Joe asked.

“Wanted to sell them to a well-known museum. You see they were very rare birds that I got in New Zealand, and he’d have been offered a large sum for them.”

“Could be the very man!” Mr. Holton said. “Who else might have done it?”

“A rival naturalist,” the other returned. “Name is Davis—Thomas T. Davis. Perhaps you remember, Howard. The fellow with the gold eyeglasses and scarred face. Said he got it when a tiger sprang at him. Always——”

“Yes,” Mr. Holton interrupted, his eyes bright with sudden recollection. “The museum employed him awhile, didn’t it?”

Joe’s father nodded.

“He always had a dislike for me,” he went on. “Didn’t like it at all when I headed that expedition to central Asia.”

There was a short silence. Then Mr. Lewis made a resolution.

“I’m going to put this matter in the hands of detectives,” he said. “They may be able to figure it out.”

“That’s the thing to do,” Bob agreed. “Seems to me, though, that this first man you mentioned is responsible. The one who wanted to buy the specimens from you.”

“Could be. But I am very much in doubt as to whether he would do such a thing.”

“Are you certain that there is no one else that has anything against you?” Mr. Holton questioned.

“No. Not certain. But fairly sure.”

Suddenly Bob’s face lightened, and he turned to Mr. Lewis.

“Do you know where this man lives? The one who wanted to buy the specimens from you, I mean.”

“Why—yes,” Mr. Lewis faltered. “That is, I have it in my memorandum. What do you want with it?”

“Don’t know that it’ll be any good at all. But we could inquire of his neighbors what kind of man he is.”

“Good idea. Better let me go, though.”

Bob shook his head.

“Joe and I haven’t anything else to do,” he argued, “and we’ll be glad to do it.”

“All right. Come in the house and I’ll put his name and address on paper.”

In a short time Mr. Lewis was back with a folded paper, which he handed to Bob.

“Now use tact in getting your information,” he said. “Remember, don’t let the people you inquire of in on the secret.”

“We won’t,” came the response, and after securing permission to use Mr. Holton’s sedan, they left for the man’s address.

What would they find? Would the people living near know anything about this person? Would the youths find that he had moved and, owing to his criminal record, had told no one of his new location? These questions were in the minds of Bob and Joe as they went farther toward their destination.

After a twenty-minute ride they pulled up on a poor cross street near the city limits and gazed to their left at a small house set back from the sidewalk. Directly beside it was another house of slightly better appearance.

“That’s the place,” pronounced Bob. “Doesn’t look like anyone’s at home.”

“Let’s go to the house next to it,” suggested Joe, getting out of the car. “We’ll trust to luck that the occupants are not related to the man we’re after.”

The boys made their way to the door and knocked. For over a minute they waited in silence. Then, as it was evident that there was no one at home, they turned to leave. But at that moment a small car moved up to the curb and stopped. Two men got out and started toward the house where the alleged crook lived. But the second they caught sight of Bob and Joe they turned back to their car.

“Come on,” whispered Bob. “Let’s follow them. I have a notion that one of those fellows is the man we’re after.”

Joe nodded in agreement.

“Did you notice how strange they acted when they saw us?” he asked. “Perhaps they thought we were officers that had come to arrest them.”

The youths made their way to their automobile and had the motor started just as the other car whizzed away.

For over ten minutes they followed cautiously, and they were satisfied that the men had not noticed them. Then at last they turned up a dilapidated street and stopped in front of a small, weather-beaten house. Here they left the car and went inside, while Bob and Joe stopped a square away.

“Let’s go up and look around,” suggested Joe.

As quietly as possible, the boys walked up to the house.

“Come around to the back,” beckoned Joe. “There might be a window.”

His supposition proved correct, for they found one before they reached the back porch. The glass was out and the opening was boarded up fairly tight, but there were several large cracks.

Cautiously Bob leaned up close and peeped inside. Then he turned to Joe.

“Four men inside,” he whispered. “Two of them are the ones we followed. Wait! Let’s hear what they’re saying.”

Again he leaned over to the window, this time to listen. Joe squeezed up close that he might hear also.

“Where do you suppose he is?” one man was saying in a gruff voice.

“Left town, mebbe,” another answered. “Just plain slipped out on us, an’ him owin’ us a lot of dough.”

“The dirty tramp!” a third said with an oath. “We’ll get him, don’t you worry. No guy can put anything over on us!”

“He’s afraid of the cops, no doubt,” the first said. “Maybe—— But say! Speakin’ of cops, we saw a couple of guys at the house next door to him, and nobody lives there. Haven’t for two months. They might have been detectives.”

“He means us,” whispered Joe. “We scared them off, I guess.”

The man who had been silent now spoke.

“You may be right,” he said. “It don’t take them detectives long to get on a guy’s trail. If you stick around where you been keepin’ yourself they’ll get you sure. That’s prob’ly the reason why this guy ain’t home. Give him time. He’ll settle with us.”

But the first man was impatient.

“We want our dough now!” he bawled. “We was supposed to have it at noon an’ he didn’t come. He owes us a good many bucks, and for the spark machine too. He was supposed to pay for that, you know.”

Bob and Joe looked at each other. The spark machine!

“That proves it!” Bob whispered, gritting his teeth. “They’re the fellows that set your dad’s garage on fire, all right! We’ll make them——”

“Shhh!”

“But listen, Tim,” one of the men was saying, “there ain’t any use to get hot-headed yet. I know this guy pretty well. I’ve done a lot for him and he’s done a lot for me. He’s never backed out on me yet. He’s got plenty of money, even if he is tryin’ hard to get more.

“Here’s what let’s do. Let’s give him till tomorrow night, and then if he don’t pay us we can go after him.”

“All right.” And the agreement was made.

Bob and Joe looked at each other. What were they to do now? They had secured evidence that these men were the guilty ones. Now would it be best to report the matter to the police at once, or had they better wait longer for any further information that the crooks might unknowingly give them?

“Let’s wait a few more minutes,” suggested Joe. “They might leave the house just as we made for our car, and then it would be too bad.”

Bob thought this good advice, and he leaned against the house to wait. Joe remained at the window.

For a minute there was silence inside. Then the man called Tim got up from his chair and started for the door.

“Where you goin’?” he was asked.

“Over to see if I can’t collect that dough,” he growled. “Anybody want ter go with me?”

“What’s the use?” one fellow asked. “We was there not more than an hour ago.”

“All right. Leave it to me.”

He walked on toward the door.

“Come on,” muttered Joe. “Let’s get to our car before he gets away.”

As hastily, yet as quietly, as possible the youths ran around the back of the house and through the alley for a distance of about a square. Then they turned out to the street and to their car.

Joe had the motor started just as the crook left the curb.

“Let’s head him off,” suggested Bob. “We can easily get there before he does if we cut across and not take the through street.”

“Good idea,” and the car was turned up a narrow cross street.

Before long the boys were in the neighborhood of the house occupied by that man who had indirectly set Mr. Lewis’s garage on fire by hiring criminals experienced in that line to do it.

“Be careful and don’t get too close,” warned Joe, as they neared the structure.

“O. K. Let’s go around the alley. We can park there for a few minutes and nobody will know anything about it.”

The car was turned into the alley and parked almost directly behind the house. Then the youths got out to stretch their legs and decide on a plan of action.

“How will we work it?” asked Joe, glancing around to see if anyone happened to be watching them.

For a moment there was no answer. Then Bob had an idea.

“Let’s walk up to the back door,” he said. “There are a lot of trees and shrubbery close and we can hide behind them until we are sure that everything is all right.”

Joe agreed, and they made their way as quietly as possible.

When close enough, they saw that the door was shut and the blinds were drawn. It was evident that no one was at home.

Suddenly there came a noise from the front of the house and both boys concealed themselves behind a large clump of bushes.

“Someone’s coming around to the back door,” breathed Bob.

“Probably that’s Tim who came back here to collect the money owed him. The fellow we headed off, I mean. Yes, it’s he,” Joe observed, peeking down the side of the house.

The sound of footsteps grew louder, and the next minute the man stepped around the corner, fists clinched and face scowling.

“Come on,” said Bob, and leaving his place of hiding he launched himself with full force on the back of the crook.

CHAPTER IV
The Treacherous Crook

WITH an oath the man shook Bob off and turned to deal with him.

“You?” he growled in surprise. “You, little more than a kid, would dare to fight Tim Donnahan? Why, I’ll——”

The sentence remained unfinished, for at that moment Bob’s fist shot out with lightning rapidity and caught the man squarely between the eyes. Without an outcry he went sprawling to the ground and rolled over.

For a second he remained dazed. Then he recovered himself and regained his feet.

Summoning all his power he lunged forward, mouth foaming and eyes glaring with rage.

It was easy to see that Bob was dealing with no weakling. His heaving chest was in itself a symbol of strength, as were also the powerful arms and heavy body. But then neither was Bob a weakling, as he had displayed so many times before. True he did not delight in fighting, but when called upon he was able to give a good account of himself. If the truth be known, he had not only won cups and letters in high school football and basketball, but in boxing as well. Joe was lighter and less robust, although by no means easy to knock out.

Now, as the young men faced this crook, there was a strong desire to win in their minds. Here was a chance—perhaps the only one they would have—to bring these men to justice for their cruel, underhanded way of getting even with Mr. Lewis for a trivial matter.

They possessed two fears. What if this fellow had a gun with him and thought nothing of using it? And what if the arch-crook would emerge from the house?

“If he only stays away,” thought Bob, as he cleverly ducked the large fist that came with all force.

For nearly five minutes the fight kept up, neither of the participants gaining anything.

Then suddenly the man swung around in an unguarded moment and sent his fist crashing into Bob’s jaw. Taken unawares, the youth went to the ground, almost unconscious.

Grinning in triumph, the crook was reaching for a revolver when Joe leaped forward and threw him on his side. The impact hurled the gun several feet away, and both made for it.

But Bob was there first! He had struggled to his senses while Joe did his part to prevent calamity.

“Get back!” Bob commanded, flashing the automatic in the man’s face. “It’s all over now!”

For a moment the fellow could not believe that the tide had turned. He stared first at Bob and then at Joe, muttering to himself. Once he started forward, but, as the gun was pressed in his face, he shrank back, apparently giving himself over to any fate.

“Get goin’,” Joe commanded, advancing a step or two.

The order was obeyed, and they marched out to the alley, where Mr. Holton’s car remained, unmolested.

“Now,” said Bob, handing the key to Joe, “I’ll get in the back seat and guard this man, and you get in front and drive us to the police station.”

No conversation was carried on during the trip, for the boys resolved to take no chances.

“At any minute he might attempt a get-away,” thought Joe, as he increased the speed as much as was consistent with safety.

Through streets and side streets they went, until at last they found themselves near the city’s business district. It was thought best not to travel on the busy thoroughfares for fear of attracting attention.

After rounding a sharp corner, Joe found it necessary to stop quickly at a traffic signal.

Directly to the right was a horde of people, gathered to witness a ceremony of the Salvation Army. There were fully thirty in the crowd, and shrill notes of a trumpet attracted more spectators constantly.

Suddenly Bob and Joe were taken in total surprise. Their captive leaned out of the car window and, hailing the crowd of people, cried, “Help! A hold-up! Help!”

Immediately the people’s attention was attracted, and with wonder and curiosity they rushed toward the screaming man.

The two youths, because of the suddenness of the unexpected happening, could not immediately master the situation.

The crowd enfolded the car and rushed toward Bob and Joe, against whom the criminal had directed them.

“Well, of all the rotten experiences!” muttered Bob Holton, as a tall man grasped him by the arm none too gently. And upon glancing behind he saw that Joe, too, had been taken a mistaken prisoner.

So their captive had won out after all! Thus it seemed to the boys, but they clinched their fists, and Bob especially was determined not to be beaten so easily.

True they might wait and explain matters to the police, and if they did not believe, perhaps the judge would. But there was too much chance of losing, even though there was a possibility of winning.

The next instant they saw that it would be impossible to settle later, for the crook, deciding it best to take advantage of the situation, opened the door of the car, and with the words, “Arrest these fellows,” he ran down the street, leaving the crowd to stare in surprise and wonder.

Thinking it useless to explain to the people in time to recapture the man, Bob suddenly sent his fist crashing into the man who still had hold of his arm with such force that he went down in a dazed condition.

For a second the youth was free and, gathering courage, he broke through the mass of people and dashed down the street in pursuit of the escaped criminal, who could be seen some two blocks ahead.

“I ought to catch him after awhile,” the youth thought, as he noted that the man was rapidly losing ground.

Several more minutes brought pursuer and pursued to the Potomac River, and Bob feared that the man might attempt to swim across but was mistaken.

The youth was now close upon him, and when they came to a small clump of shrubbery, Bob resolved to end the chase.

“Here goes,” he thought, and, exerting himself to the utmost, he caught up and aimed his foot in the man’s path.

With an exclamation of rage the fellow went down head first in a clump of bushes.

Immediately he was up, and with a hoarse bellow he aimed a blow at his young enemy’s chin. But Bob dodged and with expert quickness sent his fist smashing into the man’s nose.

Stunned, dazed, bewildered at this youth’s daring, he again took flight, Bob at his heels.

Had the revolver not been taken from him by the crowd of people, Bob would have been tempted to open fire.

Suddenly a man appeared not far away, and Bob called to him for assistance. The stranger finally grasped the meaning, and not questioning the cause of the chase, started after the criminal from another direction.

“We’ve got him,” panted Bob, as he came within an arm’s reach. “It’s all over now.”

And so it was. With a terrific crack to the chin the youth sent his enemy to the ground unconscious.

“But what does this all mean?” demanded the stranger who had helped in the capture.

“He’s a criminal,” Bob answered. “Set a garage on fire. Tell you later if you’ll give me your name and address. Mine’s Bob Holton. I live at——Wait, here’s one of Dad’s cards.”

The stranger accepted the card and in turn gave his name and address, but it was evident that he was very much puzzled about the whole affair.

The criminal’s eyes were opening, and he squirmed about uneasily. At last he seemed fully revived and sat up.

“Where’s an officer?” Bob asked, looking about.

“Here,” came a shout, and the next moment a policeman stepped up, looked at the downed captive and then at Bob.

“Take this man to the police station,” the youth directed.

“You’re certain you’ve got the goods on him?”

“Yes. I’ll come along with you.”

Tim Donnahan slowly responded to the officer’s command to “rise an’ get goin’,” and they started to a police telephone, where a call for a patrol wagon was to be made.

Meanwhile Joe, who was left behind in the car when Bob made his escape, had resolved to free himself if it were at all possible. He saw that it would be impossible to break away as his friend had done, for the crowd was all the more determined to bring him to justice as a “hold-up man,” which they didn’t doubt that he was. So the only thing left was to do his best to make them believe what he told them.

“I tell you it’s a mistake,” he pleaded. “This first fellow that got away is the guilty person. We caught him after he had set fire to my father’s garage. We were taking him to the police station when he pulled his gag about being held up. You noticed he lost no time in getting away, didn’t you? Would a man who wasn’t guilty have done such a thing?”

His tones were so much in earnest that many of the people were inclined to believe him.

“He’s telling the truth, all right,” declared one man, nodding.

Several policemen now came up on motorcycles, and Joe again told his story.

“My friend is still after the crook down the street,” he said, as finishing words.

“All right,” one of the officers replied, as if he believed. “Suppose we go down the street and investigate. I’ll get in the car with you.”

Joe, glad of the chance to prove that he had told the truth, did as directed.

A little farther down they pulled up beside the crowd that had gathered at the spot where Bob had caught the criminal.

“There they are,” pointed out Joe, as he saw his friend, a policeman, and Tim Donnahan making their way to a telephone.

“Bob did get him,” observed Joe, overwhelmed with joy.

The car was stopped beside them, and a short discussion was held.

Bob was asked to tell his story, and the policemen noted that it exactly coincided with that told by the other boy.

“Looks like a clear case on you,” one of the officers said to Tim Donnahan, but the man remained silent.

“I’ll go with you fellows to the garage that burned,” the other officer said to Bob and Joe. “And meanwhile,” he went on, “we’ll send police out to get those other crooks you were talking about.”

Bob took the wheel, and in less than fifteen minutes they pulled up in front of Joe’s house and got out.

Mr. Lewis and Mr. Holton came out to meet them.

“What’s it all about?” the latter asked, as he noted the policeman.

“We’ve caught the fellows that set fire to Dad’s garage,” Joe answered, and then proceeded to tell of their experiences.

When he had finished, the men looked at their sons with intense admiration and praise. It was evident that the youths had gone beyond their expectations.

“It was a brave deed!” commended Joe’s father, patting them on the back.

But Bob protested.

“We didn’t do much. Catching that fellow wasn’t so hard.”

“You got the whole gang indirectly,” corrected Mr. Lewis. “Now,” he continued, “you fellows are entitled to a reward. What would you like to have?”

“Nothing,” returned Bob. “It wasn’t worth much. We came out all right and had a lot of fun at that.”

“I won’t have it that way,” rejected Mr. Lewis. “You boys must have a reward for your services, and I’m going to see that you get it. What would you like?”

There was a short silence. Then Joe’s eyes twinkled, and he resolved to venture a bold question.

“Let us go with you on that trip you’re about to take to the wilds of Brazil,” he said quietly.

CHAPTER V
A Worth-while Offer

BOTH Mr. Lewis and Mr. Holton smiled. It was evident that they had not expected this.

“That’s the only thing that’ll satisfy you?” the former asked, his mind working rapidly.

The young men nodded.

“We’ll be careful and do all we can for the good of the expedition,” said Bob anxiously. “Please arrange to take us along.”

There was a period of suspense. Then the men looked at each other.

“What will we say?” Joe’s father asked, totally undecided.

Mr. Holton had been mentally debating the subject. Now he was ready for an answer.

“Let’s let them go,” he said. “They’re as big and strong as we and are usually equal to any crisis. You see what they did to this gang of men. Shows they are resourceful, and that’s what you have to be in a strange land where danger lurks at every step. In my opinion they’d be a valuable asset to the expedition.”

The youths looked at Mr. Holton gratefully. They felt that the battle was nearly half won.

For nearly a minute Mr. Lewis was silent. Then he spoke with decision.

“I think you’re right, Howard,” he said. “We’ll have a talk with their mothers this afternoon, and I am of the opinion that they’ll give their consent if we go at them right.”

“Fine!” cried Bob joyously. “Do your best to win them over. I think they’ll agree to let us go, especially since they have so much faith in you. But say! You haven’t told us who all intend to make up the expedition. There isn’t to be a large number, is there?”

“No,” Mr. Holton answered. “We only intended to have three, Mr. Lewis, an anthropologist, and myself, but if you boys accompany us the number will, of course, be raised to five. And perhaps,” he went on, “that would be better than to have so few. You see it isn’t like an expedition into Africa, where there are plenty of native carriers to bear your provisions. We’ll have to rely more on our own resources and be extremely careful that we don’t get lost. Several million square miles of jungle is a wide area to cut into, especially when so much of it is unexplored.”

“Should think it would be great fun,” commented Joe, mentally picturing the many thrills that promised to make the trip interesting.

“It will be,” Mr. Holton returned. “But it will also have its dangers. These are mainly of human character. Why, it is said that there are tribes of Indians so uncivilized that they think nothing of——”

“Ahem!” Mr. Lewis cut in purposefully.

“What were you going to say?” Joe asked.

“Perhaps I’ll tell you some other time,” came the reply. “Right now I think I’ll have a look at my firearms. In all probability they need oiling.”

He left for the house, and the others remained for several minutes longer. Then Mr. Lewis departed also, leaving the youths to themselves.

“What do you suppose Dad was going to say—about the savages, I mean?” Bob asked, glancing around to make sure that the men were gone.

“Something that shouldn’t go into our young ears,” smiled Joe and then turned to the house.

As he did so he happened to glance out at the street, to see that two men were making their way up to the house. Each carried a small hand satchel. That they were strangers Joe guessed at once, although they might not be to his father and Mr. Holton.

Joe waited until the men were close and then turned to meet them.

“Naturalists by the names of Lewis and Holton,” one man said. “Can we find them here?”

“Yes,” Joe replied, wondering what was meant. “Come in the house and I’ll call them.”

The strangers did as directed, and Joe went around to find his father and Mr. Holton.

Bob took a chair on the porch.

Joe found the men cleaning their rifles. Neither could explain who the strangers were.

“Perhaps they’re from the museum,” said Bob’s father, as he and Mr. Lewis left for the living room of the Lewis home.

During the discussion Bob and Joe remained on the porch, not wishing to intrude on the naturalists’ private affairs. They were not there long, however, till Mr. Holton called them in with the others.

“Boys, this is Mr. Weslowe, and this, Mr. Duncan, both of the Neuman Film Corporation. The young man on my left is Joe Lewis; on my right, Bob Holton, my son.”

After a few casual remarks, Mr. Holton proceeded to tell why the representatives from the film corporation were there.

“You see, they learned of our proposed expedition into the wilds of Brazil,” he explained, “and they have come to make a business proposition. Suppose one of you continues,” he ended, looking at the men, “for if these young men are to be a part of the expedition they should know about this.”

“As you know, we are with the Neuman Film Corporation,” Mr. Weslowe explained. “Now this house is always on the lookout for an opportunity to take motion pictures of little-known places, and here is certainly an opportunity. Unexplored Brazil! Ah! What a chance!

“The minute Neuman learned of this expedition they lost no time in sending us out here to make an offer—one that we sincerely trust you will take up.”

He stopped to open his satchel and get out a folded paper. Then he continued:

“We want you to take motion pictures of Brazil for our company. Will you do it?”

For a few seconds no one answered. Then Mr. Lewis leaned forward.

“Won’t it be difficult?” he asked.

“On the contrary,” Mr. Duncan returned. “Very simple. Hardly anything to it. We’ll give you complete instructions and will not hold you strictly responsible for any lost film. In fact it nearly always happens that at least several score feet of film are lost on such an expedition, where wet and damp have so much to do with the success of the pictures taken.”

“Of course,” said Mr. Weslowe, “we realize that yours will be an expedition for the good of science, not to take moving pictures. It is for this reason that we will willingly place the responsibility, which isn’t very much, in the hands of these young men here—your sons.

“Now this will not mean,” he assured them, “that they must put in all their time for this cause. We only wish several scenes along the journey. For instance, you might start by taking a movie of Pará, or whatever other city you first reach. Then several hundred feet may be used along the mainstream of the Amazon, showing the gradual progress of the expedition. When you turn onto a less-known river, that’s when we want the real show to start. The country you’ll pass through will be wilder, and the pictures will be more interesting. But once again let me assure you that the apparatus we’ll furnish will be of the simplest design, and you need not worry about not meeting with success as far as that goes. And we’ll pay you well for your trouble. Here’s the contract. Read it over. See what you think of it.”

He passed the paper to Mr. Holton, who shared the reading with Bob, Joe, and Mr. Lewis.

CHAPTER VI
Off for the Wilds of Brazil

“WELL?”

It was Mr. Weslowe’s voice after the scientists and their sons had finished reading the contract.

Mr. Holton nodded.

“It’s all right,” he declared. “Contains nothing whatever that would be objectionable.”

Mr. Lewis agreed.

“We’ll leave the matter to the boys,” he said. “They’ll be the ones who will have charge of taking the pictures. And let me say that you can rely on them.”

“You haven’t said that we can go yet,” remarked Bob. “How about our mothers? Will they consent?”

“Yes,” Mr. Lewis answered. “They finally agreed. We were planning to make it a surprise later.”

“What!” cried Bob, while Joe gasped in astonishment.

“Fine!” blurted out Joe, after he had regained his breath. “We don’t know how to thank you enough. And I’ll be more than glad to accept this offer to take the movies. Bob will, too, I’m sure.”

“All right,” Mr. Weslowe said. “Here’s a pen. You men, as the ones in charge of the expedition, must sign here.”

They did as directed, and then the representatives prepared to depart.

“The film, machine, and other equipment will be here inside of a week,” Mr. Duncan said. “And you’ll find it as simple as we explained.”

Then they took their leave.

“A chance to make some money,” said Mr. Lewis to the youths, as they seated themselves on the porch awaiting the evening meal.

“Yes,” said Bob. “And I know we’ll find it interesting.”

“What kind of a camera do you suppose they’ll furnish?” Joe asked.

“Probably the small, simple kind that requires no tripod. All you do is press a button and the film is automatically exposed. But you’ll have to follow the instructions closely or the whole thing will be a total failure. And to a certain extent, Mr. Holton and I will be held responsible.”

Practically all of the next day was spent in the business district purchasing various articles to be used on the coming great adventure. In the evening when they returned home they were satisfied with everything they had bought. Bob and Joe were especially delighted with the new rifles that their fathers presented them, for they were of the very latest design.

“I suppose they’ll bring down anything,” said Bob, in reference to the guns.

“Anything but elephants, rhinos, and the like that have extremely tough hides,” his father answered. “You needn’t fear them, though, for we won’t come across them in South America.”

“What is considered the most dangerous game of that continent?” asked Joe.

“The jaguar, generally,” was the response. “He sometimes attains a length of nearly six feet and is extremely powerful. He has been known to attack a mustang, swim with it across a river, and place it in the thick bushes. Again he has been seen to open fish and heavy turtles with his powerful claws.”

“Poisonous snakes are also dangerous,” said Mr. Lewis, “although they seldom attack a man without first being disturbed.”

“There’s a remedy for every such bite, isn’t there?” inquired Joe.

“Yes. That is, for nearly every one. The strange part of it is that one antidote may be totally ineffective against one kind of poison, while it has effect on another. You see there are several types or classes of venomous reptiles, and each has a different type of poison. Hence several antidotes have to be carried so as to take no chances.”

“Anacondas are not poisonous, are they?” asked Joe.

“No,” replied Mr. Holton. “They are constrictors, that kill their victims by crushing them to death. Another name for them is ‘water boa,’ because they are found near a stream or mud hole. You boys probably know that they are among the world’s largest snakes, often being thirty feet in length and thicker than a man’s leg. They are capable of crushing an ox to death, and often tear up small trees by the roots.”

Joe shuddered.

“I don’t think I’d care to meet one of them,” he said. “Especially since I’m not an excellent shot like you and Dad.”

“And Bob,” added Mr. Lewis. Really Bob was not far behind the naturalists in marksmanship.

After the preparations for the trip were fully completed, the youths and their fathers rested, for the coming venture was to be a tiresome one, and it was wholly unwise to use too much of their energy that was to be so much needed later.

Meanwhile reconstruction work was being done on Mr. Lewis’s garage, and the workmen promised to have the task completed in three days.

“Won’t have to worry about that,” Bob assured his chum’s father. “You can just take it easy until the time comes to leave for Brazil.”

Mr. Lewis nodded but found out later, as did Mr. Holton, that to rest was impossible, much as they would have liked to. Frequent trips to the museum had to be made, visits to various libraries were necessary, and they found at last that a journey to Baltimore was inevitable. As might be expected, they were greatly fatigued when, although every matter was settled, only two days remained before the long mission into the unknown.

That afternoon Professor Bigelow, a noted anthropologist who was to be a part of the expedition, arrived at Mr. Holton’s home, where he was to remain until the expedition would leave. He was a rather small man, with heavy gray hair and a swarthy complexion that the boys rightly guessed was due to his many missions into strange lands to study primitive people. He at once took a great liking to the youths, and together they discussed many strange happenings, which the professor related in breath-taking tales. He told of adventures in darkest Africa, where many little-known clans of natives were studied. He thrilled his listeners with stories of narrow escapes from the Dyaks of Borneo, of journeys into Ecuador to investigate the savage head-shrinkers, into India, Mongolia, Venezuela, islands of the South Seas, and many other strange places. Yes, it was a great life—that pursued by an anthropologist.

“Two more things I’d like to know,” said Bob, the next afternoon. “First, what food will we take along?”

“That is all arranged,” his father replied. “A company in New York packed our provisions in light tin containers that are airtight and will float on water. You don’t need to worry about our having enough, for we took into consideration the possibility of a long, unexpected delay. What’s your other question?”

“This: Where do we sail from, New York? And on what ship?”

Mr. Holton gasped in astonishment.

“What!” he cried. “You don’t know that yet? I thought we discussed that matter several days ago.”

“If you did, I wasn’t there,” Bob returned, grinning. “We’ve been so busy with preparations that I haven’t given it a thought.”

“All right, I’ll tell you. We sail from New York on the steamer Empire, a vessel of ten thousand tons. It is scheduled to arrive in Macapá, which is several miles inland on the Amazon, in twelve days. Fairly good time, considering a stop at the West Indies.”

At frequent intervals Mrs. Holton and Mrs. Lewis expressed the desire for their sons to give up the thought of accompanying the expedition, but the boys did their best to convince their mothers that, while there were dangers attached, they were not as numerous as one might think.

“Come to think of it, you can’t blame them, though,” said Joe. “We’re rather inexperienced in the art of exploring.”

“We’ll come through all right,” Bob assured him. “Oh! How I wish the time would pass quicker!”

Despite Bob’s desire, the great day of leaving took its time in coming. But when it did arrive, everyone was in readiness.

“Weather’s cool and the sky’s clear,” observed Joe, as he and Bob lugged their belongings out to the front porch of Bob’s home, where the members of both households were to gather before the party would leave.

“Just the right temperature,” declared Mr. Holton, who had moved up in time to hear his son’s chum.

The train was to leave for New York at ten o’clock and the party barely had time to get breakfast and prepare themselves and their possessions, which, by the way, included the motion-picture cameras and several thousand feet of film, sent ahead by the Neuman Film Corporation.

Bob and Joe—and the others to a less degree—had studied the instructions on how to take motion pictures and felt that it would be an easy matter to carry them out.

Shortly after breakfast Mrs. Holton and Mrs. Lewis drove the family cars out in front, and the others carried out their belongings and got inside.

“The last we’ll see of good old Washington for several months to come,” sighed Joe, as he cast a final look at the homes they were leaving behind.

There were tears in the eyes of Mrs. Lewis and Mrs. Holton as they gave the youths and their fathers a warm farewell. Professor Bigelow also took part in the leave-taking, for he was well liked by all. Bob’s smaller brother and Joe’s sister gave tender good-byes, and with one last adieu the adventurers made their way down the platform and to the New York Limited.

CHAPTER VII
New York—And On

THE trip to New York, while interesting, was without incident, and they were glad to stretch their legs in the Pennsylvania Terminal, where hundreds of people from all parts of the country were assembled.

“Now what?” asked Joe, after a bountiful lunch.

“Better get to a hotel,” replied Mr. Holton, picking up his bags.

The party walked outside and hailed a taxi, the driver of which agreed to take them to a comfortable hotel near the waterfront.

“An outside room,” observed Bob, as he glanced at his ticket and followed the others to an elevator.

Their sleeping quarters were on the seventeenth floor, where a wonderful view of lower Manhattan and the waterfront could be had.

“Fairly high, but could be a lot higher,” observed Joe, as he gazed out at the scores of other tall buildings that were grouped about them.

“The trend is upward,” remarked Mr. Lewis. “Imagine how old New York will look fifty years from now, when there may be buildings two hundred stories high!”

“Suppose we go down and see how things look from the street,” suggested Mr. Holton. “Been a long time since we’ve been here.”

The remainder of that day was spent exploring Manhattan Island. They turned in early in the evening, for they were very tired.

“Tomorrow,” said Bob, as he threw himself on the bed, “we’ll see sights for sore eyes.”

And they did. The scene at the dock was one of absorbing interest to all, even as much as the men had witnessed it. Ships from all countries were anchored in dense rows, their crewmen busy loading and unloading cargoes. Boxes and bales were being piled in great stacks, awaiting transfer by motor truck. Passengers and spectators crowded closely around the sections where passenger liners were anchored.

“Here we are,” said Mr. Holton, pointing to a medium-sized ship between two other smaller boats. “The Empire. Looks staunch enough.”

The others agreed and then made their way up the gangplank. A white-clad officer came out to meet them and upon receipt of their tickets directed them to their staterooms.

“Large and comfortable,” commented Bob, as he set down his baggage and looked about.

“All you could ask for,” said Joe, who was to share the room with his chum.

The youths spent several more minutes in examining the articles furnished them for the voyage. Then Bob turned toward the door.

“Let’s go out on deck,” he suggested. “It won’t be long until the ship lifts anchor.”

On deck they found everything in readiness for the voyage, and the scene of action below was interesting to the extreme. Crewmen hurried back and forth with ropes, boxes, bales, and other objects, intent upon a purpose. Visitors scurried off the ship and stood by to witness the leaving.

“Everyone probably wishes he were going with us,” said Bob, as the crowd grudgingly stepped back for the gangplank to be pulled in.

The next instant the long-drawn, deep whistle of the boat sounded, and with the ringing of gongs the engines started. A streak of foam arose between the hull and the dock, and the ship started moving.

“Good-bye, America!” shouted Joe, leaning far out over the rail.

“Yes,” affirmed Mr. Holton. “It’s the last we’ll see of good old New York for many weeks to come.”

Mr. Holton, Mr. Lewis, and Professor Bigelow turned and walked to the other end of the deck. Bob and Joe remained where they were.

Neither of the youths said anything, for they were busy with their thoughts.

Who knew what perils might befall them before they would again see that land they so dearly loved?

CHAPTER VIII
The Beginning of Trouble

BOB and Joe found the ocean voyage very interesting, for it was something new to them. The waves, sea gulls, flying fish, an occasional shark, the painted horizon, and the ship itself all held their undivided attention and made them thrill at the fact that they were living through an experience that only a comparative few had the opportunity of enjoying.

They spent much of their time on deck, enjoying the never-ending charm of the ocean. Thus far the weather had remained peaceable enough, and both boys expressed a desire for it to continue thus. They had never witnessed a hurricane, but had heard from their fathers of how destructive a tropical ocean storm could really be.

“The ship looks strong enough to come through safely,” remarked Joe, as he cast eyes about the deck.

“Yes,” his friend replied. “She’s built on the stoutest possible lines.”

Section by section the youths explored the Empire and were much impressed by everything they saw. They visited the various passenger quarters, the bridge, the enormous kitchens, the hold, and last and most interesting, the engine rooms, where mammoth turbines turned harmoniously and kept the ship at a smooth, even gait. The vessel interested them greatly, and while not built on the enormous proportions of the huge liners that sailed between American and European ports, it was large enough to keep the youths wondering.

“One of the many man-made wonders,” said Bob, as he thought of how complex the engines were.

One of the things that impressed the boys most was the large supply of provisions that were taken along. There were literally tons of food, water, novelties, and other goods stored in great rooms, and every bit was to be used on this one voyage. Artificial refrigeration kept perishable food fresh and wholesome.

Early the next day Bob and Joe showed their first signs of seasickness. They had been standing at the rail watching the rolling of the waves and were growing rather tired when Joe turned about, his face pale and of a yellowish color.

“I think I’ll go to my berth,” he said, his voice unsteady.

“What’s the matter? You——”

“It came at last,” smiled Mr. Lewis, who had moved up to the youths. “I seldom knew it to fail. Seasickness is almost sure to be felt on the first voyage one takes. Bob, I’m betting that before two hours will have passed you’ll be as bad off as Joe. Of course,” he went on in a tone that he tried to keep serious, “let’s hope you’ll have better luck, but the chances are against you.”

Mr. Lewis’s prophecy proved correct. In fact it was less than one hour later that big Bob, after heroically postponing the dreaded seasickness as long as he possibly could, turned and went to his berth to join his stricken comrade.

“Too bad,” remarked Mr. Holton, closing the door of the stateroom after cautiously peeping in. “Perhaps their next voyage—if they take any more—will be free from unpleasantness.”

Throughout the remainder of that day the boys’ condition remained unchanged. If anything, they were worse off than before, and neither would look at a bite of food of any kind.

“This is terrible,” moaned Joe to his father, the professor, and Mr. Holton, who went in to see how the youths were.

“Cheer up,” Mr. Holton said in lively tones. “You can surely stand a couple of more days.”

He was right. It was two days later when the boys began to show signs of recovery. Then only very slowly did they resume their natural cheerfulness.

“Too bad we had to miss so much,” mourned Bob. “But I’ll admit there wasn’t much to see.”

“Nothing but water,” said Joe and then turned to go into the cabin. As he did so he happened to glance down at the stern and pointed for Bob to follow his gaze.

Leaning against the rail were the boys’ fathers conversing with an elderly bearded man, with a uniform that distinguished him as the ship’s captain. He seemed good-natured and humorous, for occasionally he would cause the men to laugh so hard that they would have to grip the rail to maintain their balance.

“Come over, boys,” Mr. Holton said, glancing up.

They did so.

“This,” he continued, “is Captain Crowell, chief officer of the Empire. Captain, this is Joe Lewis, and this, Bob Holton, the young men we were telling you about. What do you think of them?”

The old officer spent nearly a minute in looking the boys over. Then he turned to the naturalists.

“Spirited-looking chaps,” he grinned. “Look as if they’d like to deprive Brazil of every bit of animal life in it. Better not let them have a rifle. The jaguars will all make for cover.”

“Roasting us, are you?” retorted Bob.

“No. What creature, no matter how fierce, wouldn’t be afraid of two mates who captured a gang of desperate criminals all by themselves? You don’t need to worry about these fellows,” he said to their fathers. “They’ll take care of themselves and you, too, perhaps.”

Bob and Joe took a liking to the old seaman and intended to discuss many problems with him in the future.

“Maybe he can suggest something to do to while the time away,” said Bob the next day, when Captain Crowell was again referred to.

“That reminds me,” the other youth blurted out. “There’s a swimming pool in the second deck. Let’s go up.”

Bob readily agreed, and they were soon floating calmly about.

“We’d better get as much out of this as we can,” remarked Joe. “There won’t be a chance to enjoy this sport in Brazilian waters.”

“No,” put in Bob. “The alligators and piranhas and other dangerous forms won’t give us a chance to even wade.”

The youths were not the only ones to invade the swimming pool, however. As they neared the tropics, and the temperature steadily went up, people from all over the ship enjoyed its cool retreat, the pool becoming almost crowded. It was great fun. Nothing to do but just splash about.

Games also held the boys’ attention. Shuffleboard, quoits, deck tennis, horseshoes, and other activities played an important part in the daily life, and in times when they desired more quiet entertainment, the library, with its scores of books of all types, afforded interesting occupation.

Many leisure hours were spent conversing with Captain Crowell, who always had a humorous tale to tell. On one occasion, when they had been at sea nearly a week, Bob and Joe happened upon him standing at the rail, gazing up at the sky, on his face a worried expression.

“Big storm coming,” he said, after the salutation.

“A storm!” cried Joe and then looked upward.

Sure enough, clouds were banking heavily, and the sun was nowhere in sight. A stiff breeze had arisen, and with this came the smell of rain.

An officer came up and handed a slip of paper to the captain. He read it, and then, with a parting word for Bob and Joe, he turned and went toward the bridge.

The boys looked at each other. Were things going to turn out for the worse? Surely something serious was wrong, or the captain would never have acted in such manner.

“Getting darker,” Bob said, as he noted that the clouds were joining.

“Won’t be long before it’ll rain,” prophesied Joe, and he was correct, for it was less than ten minutes later that a heavy drizzle fell, forcing the chums into the cabin.

There they turned and looked out at the sea, which was rapidly getting higher. The wind was blowing fiercely, its velocity increasing with each minute.

“Well, boys, what do you think of it?”

It was Mr. Holton’s voice. He and his two companions had moved up to the glass, as had a number of other people.

“Suppose you answer that question,” replied Bob. “You’re in a better position to know than we are.”

“I believe we’re in for a bad one,” was the opinion voiced by Professor Bigelow. “But how long it will last is hard to say.”

Mr. Lewis nodded. “Tropical hurricanes are very uncertain,” he said. “Sometimes they last only a few hours, while at other times they keep up for two and three days.”

The boat was now rocking violently, and many people had difficulty in keeping their footing. Bob and Joe took chairs that were fastened securely to the floor. They intended to remain awake all night if the storm did not subside.

But exhaustion was stronger than their intentions, and finally they stumbled to their stateroom, ready for a night’s rest.

“Storm or no storm, I’m going to turn in,” Bob said, and then lost his footing and went sprawling to the floor, with Joe on top of him. The ship had suddenly tilted as she struck a mountainous wave.

“Wow!” cried Joe, gripping a water pipe and righting himself. “Better hold tight from now on or we’re likely to get a bad spill.”

By almost a miracle the youths undressed. Then they tumbled into their berths, to go to sleep at once.

About midnight they were awakened by a shrill, long-drawn whistle, and all the sleep knocked out of them, they were on their feet in an instant wondering what was meant by that unusual sound in the dark of the night.

CHAPTER IX
A Daring Rescue

“WHAT is it?” asked Joe, as he hurriedly slipped on his clothing.

“Beyond me,” Bob answered. “Come on. Let’s go out on deck. We may be able to find out.”

The ship was rocking terribly, and the boys found it difficult to keep their footing. But they finally managed to catch hold of a rail, and from then on it was easier.

Several other passengers were up also, intent upon investigating the strange whistle.

“Maybe the boat’s sinking,” suggested Joe.

Bob shook his head.

“Probably isn’t that. At least let’s hope not.”

With beating hearts the youths came up to the glass and turned to look out at the angry sea. Then their expression changed.

A short distance from the Empire was a small fishing schooner, its prow out of sight in the water. On the stern stood a score or more men, waving their arms frantically. It was evident that they were panic-stricken, for several of them occasionally shouted for help. The little boat tossed about violently on the crest of the mountainous waves, her front deck gradually fading from view. Every minute it seemed that the end would come.

“It’s sinking fast!” cried Joe. “Why don’t some of our crew do something?”

“They are. Look.”

Farther up on the Empire’s deck fifteen or twenty men, under the direction of officers, were busy lowering lifeboats, although it looked out of reason to let them down on that sea.

Suddenly Bob turned and started toward his berth.

“Where you going?” Joe asked.

“To get the motion-picture camera. Here’ll be a good chance to take some pictures. There’s plenty of light around here.”

The next moment he was gone, and Joe turned to the deck.

The roar of the storm was deafening, and the wind howled ruefully through the funnels and masts. It was as though the end of the world were coming.

In less than five minutes two lifeboats were lowered, four or five men in each one. Then slowly they made their way toward the doomed schooner.

Bob now returned with the movie camera and cranked away, delighted to get an opportunity to film such an unusual happening.

The boys, however, were not the only ones to watch the daring attempt at rescue. In fact the glass was now crowded with people, and Mr. Holton, Mr. Lewis, and Professor Bigelow came up and wormed their way to their companions.

“Most thrilling thing I ever saw!” exclaimed Mr. Holton, as he breathlessly directed his gaze at the puny boats, which wallowed heavily and threatened to be swamped at every moment.

On and on went the rescue boats, their occupants bailing furiously. Now and then they threatened to capsize but always righted themselves.

In what seemed to be a long period of suspense to the spectators, the Empire’s crew reached the fishing schooner, which was now far under water.

One by one the fishermen climbed into the lifeboats, although it was necessary to give sharp commands to prevent disorder.

When the last of the men from the doomed boat stepped into the lifeboats, the officer in charge gave the word, and they started back to the Empire.

The return trip threatened to be more perilous, for the boats were very low in the water with the added load. Hurriedly the oarsmen set to work, so that they might be a good distance from the schooner when it sank, for a whirlpool would be created, meaning certain disaster to all around it.

Once a giant wave passed over the little boats and they disappeared from view, amid gasps from the spectators. But the danger was soon over, and the lifeboats emerged unharmed, the crewmen bailing rapidly.

They were barely at the Empire’s side when the schooner sank. With a last look at the scene of disaster, the fishermen boarded the ship. They were water-soaked and shivering with cold, but were too glad that they had been saved from the hungry depths of the sea to make any complaints.

“They’re Portuguese,” observed Professor Bigelow, as the fishermen came nearer.

The men muttered several words of thanks to the Empire’s crew, but it was clear that few understood them. Professor Bigelow, however, picked up the meaning at once and translated to his companions. Mr. Holton and Mr. Lewis had a slight knowledge of that language, but could not keep up with the excited men.

“The captain says it’s too bad they had to lose the schooner,” Professor Bigelow said. “He said they did their best to save it from going down, but had to give up. They did not intend to be this far at sea, but the storm gave them no chance of turning back.”

In a short time the excitement was over, and most of the passengers again retired, for the next morning they were to sight the West Indies.

Bob was overjoyed at the success he had had in taking the movies of the rescue and knew they would be a hit with the Neuman Film Corporation. They were the first of any importance that had been taken on the ship, and, as Joe said, a little action now and then does a lot to liven up a thing.

The next morning the storm had completely subsided, and true to schedule the Empire sighted Porto Rico. There was a scramble of passengers who had reached their destination.

“Probably think they’ll be carried on,” smiled Bob, as a rather nervous man fled down the stairs.

At first the shoreline was so dim as to be hardly distinguishable from the low clouds, but it gradually grew more plain. At last trees and houses could be made out, and then the skyline of San Juan loomed up in the distance.

“Looks like a city,” remarked Joe.

“It is,” his father replied. “Has over eighty-five thousand inhabitants.”

“Will we have time to go ashore?” asked Bob.

“Yes. The ship remains in port for about three hours,” Mr. Holton answered.

As the Empire approached the city, she backed her engines and moved slowly into port, where a small crowd of people were massed to give greeting.

Several other boats, large and small, were anchored at the busy docks, and the Empire steamed in between two freighters, one of which was being loaded with sugar.

“Sugar is one of the principal exports,” explained Professor Bigelow, as the exploration party prepared to leave the ship on a tour of the city.

As soon as they were in port, the gangplank was lowered. The adventurers made their way down, among a score of other passengers, many of whom were to leave the ship here.

Bob and Joe were at once impressed by the native residents, for there was a great variety of races. Spaniards were the most numerous, but there were also Negroes, mulattoes, French, Americans, and a small sprinkling of Indians.

“Quite a variety,” commented Joe. “Though it is possible to see this very thing in parts of New York.”

The explorers found that it would be comparatively easy to walk to various places of interest, and, after passing the former governor-general’s palace, they resolved to take in as much of the city as they could in two hours.

They found that the city was built on Morro Island, although the mainland could be easily reached by the numerous bridges. The streets were regularly laid out, and in the white quarters the residences were rather attractive.

“Doesn’t look much like America, though,” said Joe.

The exploration party reached the Empire with thirty minutes to spare, and they took chairs on deck to watch the busy dock below.

All too soon the whistle of leaving blew, and visitors scrambled down the gangplank. Then, with one long blast the ship slowly steamed out to sea, leaving Porto Rico behind.

At last they were on the final stretch. There would be no more stops till they reached South America. Then only short stays at Paramaribo and Cayenne, which were important seaport cities about two hundred miles apart.

“How long will it be until we again see land?” asked Bob, as he and the others sat on deck.

“Two days,” replied his father. “No doubt that they’ll seem like a long time, too.”

And they did. Bob and Joe were no more vexed than the others, however, for the men were also anxious to get started into the unknown. But when at last they did sight South America they forgot the past and looked into the future.

The boys, with their cameras in hand, were the first to reach the prow. They were closely followed by their fathers and the professor, who also crowded in for a first view.

At first, land was only a speck far out on the horizon. Then only gradually did it take on form and color.

“We’re nearing Paramaribo,” pronounced Mr. Holton, as he made out the outline of the city.

“What country is it in?” asked Joe.

“Dutch Guiana,” the professor answered. “One of the smallest nations in South America.”

The Empire steamed into a port nearly as busy as that of San Juan, although most of the boats were small.

For a second time the gangplank was lowered, and as the explorers had a half-hour to spare, they started on a short walking trip of the city.

“Quite a bit different from San Juan,” said Bob, as he noted that many of the people were native Indians.

The others nodded. None of them had been here before, and they naturally took a great interest in these unusual surroundings. In fact Professor Bigelow was the only one who had ever seen South America before, but this did not lessen his enthusiasm.

The streets were, for the most part, narrow and straight, cutting one another at right angles. The party was surprised to find the houses extremely low, hardly any of them exceeding two stories. Some were built of brick, but most were of cane plastered with mud.

Several minutes were spent in rambling over the various quarters of the city. Then they went back to the ship, which was now nearly ready to sail.

“South America is all right to visit,” remarked Joe, “but I don’t think I’d care to live here.”

The others agreed with him.

“And yet,” said Professor Bigelow, “there are a number of cities that are very well developed. Take Rio de Janeiro and Buenos Aires, for instance. They are large, clean, and well kept. A street in Buenos Aires looks very much like a street in the United States.”

Soon the Empire was off, having unloaded a large cargo of American goods. Several passengers also took their leave here.

From then on the scientific party was restless and eager to get started into the unknown. As one nears his goal, he nearly always finds it hard to wait through the last few stretches. Bob and Joe especially were excited, for it was their first adventure. Their hearts throbbed as they eagerly anticipated the coming days.

That evening they arrived in Cayenne, the capital of French Guiana, and, as before, took a short trip about the city. It was much the same as Paramaribo, however, and they were glad to board the Empire again for the last leg of the long journey.

It was about six hundred miles to Macapá, the Empire’s destination, and the party settled back in anticipation.

Neither of the boys did anything of importance. They were too enthusiastic over the coming great adventure.

“Let’s take it easy on deck,” suggested Bob, and they arranged chairs for all of the party that cared to rest.

“There’s nothing like enjoying the spell of the ocean,” remarked Mr. Holton.

A few days later Captain Crowell announced that they were sailing up the mighty Amazon, and the explorers were thrilled to the bone. The Amazon! At last one of their strongest ambitions had been fulfilled. Bob and Joe were overjoyous, for they had had a strong desire to see this great water system.

“Doesn’t look like a river to me,” said Joe as he tried in vain to see the shore.

“Over a hundred miles wide at the delta,” said Bob. “It’s the greatest river system in the world.”

For several hours they steamed on up the great river, past small settlements, plantations, and green islands. Occasionally they would get a glimpse of beautiful wild vegetation, and their hearts would beat fast. Then, almost without knowing it, they came to Macapá.

There was a fairly good port, and the vessel took her place between two small river steamers. The long ocean voyage had come to an end.

CHAPTER X
In the Heart of the Jungle

“NOW what?” asked Joe, as the party passed on down the gangplank.

“Better get our belongings together first,” said Mr. Lewis. “Then we can make inquiries about the leaving of a boat that’ll take us to our destination.”

“But what about finding a place to stay overnight?” asked the professor.

“You needn’t worry about that.”

All looked around, to see that Captain Crowell had moved up behind them.

“I heard what you said,” he remarked. “And let me say that you are welcome to your berths on the Empire until we leave for New York. That may be tomorrow, or it may be the next day. Go on up and make yourselves at home.”

The party accepted the invitation with warm thanks. Then they moved on up to the boat.

“Pretty soft,” smiled Bob, as they sat on deck. “We might have hunted for hours before finding rooms.”

It was late that night when the party retired, but all slept well and awoke the next morning ready for any plans that might be made.

After breakfast Mr. Lewis and Mr. Holton left for the dock, where they would make inquiries about the leaving of a boat for farther upstream. Bob and Joe followed a road out of town to see the country.

They hiked for perhaps two miles, looking sharply about. Then, as there was not much new to see, they turned and went back to town, desirous of finding out what information, if any, their fathers had gained about the leaving of a boat.

By luck the boys met their fathers in the main street, and there were smiles on the men’s faces.

“Pat us on the back,” smiled Mr. Holton, so overjoyed that he could hardly keep his composure.

“What!” cried Bob. “You’ve found a boat so soon?”

The naturalists nodded.

“By chance we met the captain of a small freight vessel that happens to be going up the Purús to Acre, on the Bolivian frontier,” said Mr. Holton. “Sheer luck, I calls it. Any other time it would have been necessary to wait three or four weeks before finding such an opportunity. Of course we wouldn’t have waited that long, though. We would have found it necessary to take two boats, one to Manáos, and one on up the Purús. But the way things are now—” he smiled broadly—“we’re all set for a pleasant voyage, with no stops till we reach our destination.”

“When does the boat leave?” inquired Joe.

“In less than three hours,” his father answered. “That means we’ll have to hurry and get packed.”

They walked on down the dock to the Empire and found Professor Bigelow in the library. He looked up smilingly and placed his book back on the shelf.

“What did you find?” he asked.

Mr. Holton told of obtaining passage on the boat to the Purús, and the anthropologist was delighted beyond words. The delay was maddening to him, even though he was able to keep his time occupied.

It did not take the party long to get their possessions together, and after locating Captain Crowell and thanking him for the use of the berths, they left for the newly chartered boat, which was anchored farther down the pier.

“Small but staunch-looking,” commented Bob, as they came to it.

“Built on rather speedy lines, too,” added Mr. Lewis.

They lugged their baggage up on deck, to be met by the burly captain, who in his rough attire was a strange contrast to Captain Crowell. He was good-natured, however, and readily showed the explorers to their sleeping quarters.

“Hope you have a jolly voyage,” he boomed, leaving for the cabin.

“I told you boys wrong when I said we don’t stop till we get to our destination,” Mr. Holton corrected himself, as the party started out to the rail. “The boat stops at Manáos, but only for a couple of hours. We’ll have time to go about the city.”

A little later the boat’s whistle sounded, and then came the faint chugging of the engines.

“We’re off!” cried Joe excitedly. “Off on the last stretch of our journey.”

Soon the waterfront of Macapá was left behind, and the Selvas, for that was the vessel’s name, steamed out to the middle of the mighty Amazon.

The explorers did not move from deck until one of the crew announced that the noon meal was ready.

“Wonder what we’ll have to eat?” asked Joe, as they went into the dining room.

“Probably salt pork and a few other dishes of cured food,” returned Mr. Lewis, and he was right.

“It’s all right for a change, anyway,” said Bob.

The boys spent the remainder of that day in exploring the boat and were impressed by everything they saw. Aside from the fact that it was rather old, it was worthy of the great river on which it steamed.

“Let’s hear something about Manáos,” Bob said to his father that night. “If we are to see it soon, I’d like to know what to expect.”

“It’s a wonderful city,” Mr. Holton replied. “Large stores, office buildings, hotels. If what I’ve heard is correct, we will be astonished.”

And they were astonished. In fact, when they pulled into the busy port, the boys’ eyes almost popped from their heads. Even after hearing about Manáos from their fathers, they could not believe that they would find anything like this away out in the heart of the vast wilderness.

“Has a rather impressive skyline,” observed Joe, gazing ahead at the outlines of the hotels and office buildings.

“Many of the structures are new,” put in Professor Bigelow. “The city’s growth has been rather rapid. But now,” he went on, “suppose we get off the boat and take a short trip about town.”

The adventurers easily procured a map of the city. Then they boarded a street car for a ride down the principal business street.

“Modern is right,” commented Bob, gazing out at the large buildings, hotels, theaters, and stores.

They passed many points of interest, including the Theatre of Manáos, the many parks and gardens, schools and colleges, and monuments and statues. And to cap all this, they spent several minutes in one of the most complete museums they had ever been in.

“Truly a great city in the heart of the forest,” said Mr. Holton, as they prepared to board the boat for the continuation of the journey.

They got to the Selvas with barely five minutes to spare. Already the crew were making ready for the long voyage that was to follow.

Shortly later they were again in the midst of the forest, after having left Manáos behind.

“I see we’re not the only passengers on the boat,” said Professor Bigelow, glancing across at two men who sat near the stern.

“Probably they’re rubber gatherers who have a plantation farther down,” was the opinion voiced by Mr. Lewis, and his guess was right, as they later found out when an acquaintance sprang up between the Brazilians and the Americans.

That acquaintance was delightful and tended to relieve the monotony of the trip. The men, Acmio and Piemo by name, took a liking to the explorers and told of many strange sights of the jungle. They knew nothing, however, of the region the expedition was going to penetrate.

“I bet we won’t find anything, either,” said Joe. “No one seems to have been far in the interior.”

At last the Selvas came to the Purús River, and down this it steamed.

“Considerably narrower than the Amazon,” observed Bob. “But at that it’s a good many rods across.”

“The Purús is noted for its crooked course,” remarked Professor Bigelow. “The sand bars occur with such regularity that the natives reckon distances by counting the number of them.”

At this time of year the water was rather high, for the rainy season was barely over.

They steamed on for the greater part of that day before coming to a settlement, and this was small and crude. They did not stop, although several men came out to greet them.

As they steamed farther, the river became more crooked. In fact it was often impossible to see more than three hundred feet ahead. And as they penetrated deeper into the jungle, vegetation became more dense. Great clusters of bright-colored flowers lined the banks, tall trees showed themselves above the other growth, parasitic vines wound themselves around forest giants. Ferns, high grass, small bushes, oddly shaped stalks—all these caught the eyes of the explorers.

After a long journey they reached the mouth of the Tapauá, and at a small town between the two rivers the boat stopped. Here the adventurers got off.

It seemed strange to set foot on ground out here away from civilization. Why, it was almost like another world! For some time Bob and Joe could not realize that they were now in the very heart of the great Amazon jungle.

The captain of the Selvas had given the party a letter of recommendation to a Brazilian who would be able to fit them out with boats and Indian crew. He lived at the edge of the town, and to that place they went, led by Mr. Holton.

They found the man sitting idly in his thatched house. He was very tall and slender, but looked to be possessed of great strength.

“You are Senhor del Pereo?” asked Mr. Holton in the native tongue.

“Sí,” the man replied.

Bob’s father took out the letter and handed it to him.

He read carefully for several moments. Then his face lighted.

Sure he would help them. Anyone who was a friend of the captain was a friend of his. It would be easy to get a boat—or boats, for that matter—and he knew of several trustworthy Indians who would readily act as guides. But he knew nothing about the distant country. Few people did. It was a land of mystery.

Mr. Holton translated to Bob and Joe. Then he again turned to the Brazilian.

“You will lead us to the boats and guides now?”

“Yes.”

They started out, the Brazilian in the van.

He led them around the village to a large native hut, in front of which sat several semi-naked Indians. They were on their feet in an instant when they caught sight of Senhor del Pereo, and with friendly greetings listened to what he had to say.

For several minutes he conversed with them in their native tongue, and in the end they nodded in acceptance.

“They will go,” he said to the explorers. “They will be your guides in an unknown country.”

CHAPTER XI
On the Alert

“NOW the next thing is to get boats,” said Mr. Holton.

Senhor del Pereo announced that it would be possible to get them at once, without having to have them constructed, and the explorers were delighted.

He led them down to the river bank, where two large canoes were aground. Each was about thirty-five feet long and capable of carrying a ton and a half of cargo with ease. Mr. Holton and Mr. Lewis were amazed.

“They are not native canoes,” Mr. Lewis said, as he noted the deep, full lines and high freeboard.

The Brazilian explained that they had been used by a party of British hunters on the Purús River, and were purchased when the men were through with them for a small sum.

“Got it all over Indian boats,” remarked Bob, glancing farther down at several that were moored.

The Indians had accompanied them to the boats, and now Senhor del Pereo introduced the ones who were to be a part of the expedition. There were six of them—three to attend to each boat. All were large, strong fellows, capable of any kind of work required by the venture, and the Brazilian assured the explorers that they could be relied upon.

After attending to a few more matters with Senhor del Pereo, the party set about loading their provisions and supplies in one of the boats; the other was to be used as a storeplace for the specimens they would collect.

Bob and Joe did a good share of the work. Then occasionally they would take motion pictures.

When the last box was lifted up, Mr. Holton gave the sign, and, with parting words with the Brazilian who had done so much for them, they got in the foremost canoe and were paddled upstream by the crew. At last they were off for the unknown.

“Now for the fun,” smiled Joe, as he cranked the movie camera and looked expectantly into the green depths of the bordering jungle.

“I suppose you’re referring to hunting,” said Mr. Lewis. “Well, we’ll do plenty of that a little later. But first we want to penetrate a large distance from any outposts of civilization.”

At the start, the river was rather wide, but it promised to narrow later.

They glided swiftly on for perhaps three hours. Then Mr. Lewis suggested that they stop for the noon meal. Meanwhile, the crew could be resting.

The boats were brought to a stop at a large sand bank, and all climbed out to stretch their legs after such a long journey in more or less one position. Bob and Joe felt like running and shouting.

“Like to go in for a swim,” said Bob, wiping the perspiration from his streaming brow.

“So would everyone else,” returned Mr. Lewis. “But with the alligators and piranhas and other dangerous aquatic forms it’s absurd even to think of such a thing.”

“Are they this close to the Purús?” asked Joe. “I thought they were found deeper in the jungle.”

Mr. Holton shook his head.

“Piranhas and alligators are very common all through this region,” he said.

Mr. Holton and Mr. Lewis got out a ration of food, while Bob and Joe attended to minor tasks. Professor Bigelow looked after the plates and utensils.

In a short time the meal was prepared, and all ate in quiet contentment. The food tasted good after those three long hours of constant traveling.

Bob and Joe glanced at the frowning jungle, which was but a short distance away. It seemed to challenge the explorers to penetrate its leafy depths, although in many places this was almost impossible.

“Quite a variety of trees,” observed Bob, his eye scanning the edge. “I suppose there are hundreds of different kinds.”

“There are,” answered Professor Bigelow. “All different kinds, from mahogany to bacaba palms. Much of the wood is worthlessly soft and useless, but mahogany and a few others are shipped to all parts of the world. There would be a much greater amount sent out, though, if it were all buoyant. The fact that many of the logs are not prevents them from being floated downstream.”

The explorers spent several minutes in the shade of a large tree, talking and chatting merrily. Then the professor suggested that they move on, and the others were more than glad to do so.

“You’re right,” Mr. Lewis told the professor. “We want to cover as much ground as possible today.”

The provisions were packed in the boat. They then boarded, to be paddled upstream by the Indians.

There was plenty of room to move about, and the youths shifted their positions frequently. Not because they grew tired of the scenery, however, for at every yard there was something new to see. Bright-colored flowers lined the banks, red-leafed bushes were common, tall palms, grotesque vines, ferns, plants of all kinds that baffled the boys. Occasionally they would pass dead branches covered with living orchids. Then again there were trees that themselves had flowers. Once they came to a tree over fifty feet high with wide, spreading branches that were covered with yellow blossoms.

Often the river would bend sharply, making necessary utmost caution by the crew. On one such occasion the explorers were engaged in conversation when suddenly a loud splash from ahead made them look up. Then, as they rounded the bend, they saw something that made them jump to their feet and grasp their rifles.

CHAPTER XII
A Fearful Sight

ON the bank not far away were at least fifteen large alligators, their hideous jaws partly open as they basked in the hot sun. Frequently one would plunge into the water to cool itself, and then there would be a terrific splashing about.

As soon as possible, the Indians stopped the boats, and the explorers viewed the creatures with a terrible awe. Here was their first encounter with the wild life of Brazil. Here, not far away, were some of the most terrible reptiles of South America.

For some time the alligators did not seem to notice the human invaders. Then they one by one crawled off the bank and sank a few inches beneath the water.

“Evidently don’t care for our company,” said Joe in a low tone. He had brought the movie camera to his shoulder and was taking in the unusual sight.

It was thought best not shoot any of the reptiles for fear of causing an undue commotion. Then, too, it would prove difficult to get the victims in the boat with so many others around.

In a short time no traces of the creatures were left, and the Indians again turned to the paddles.

“Is it safe to go on?” asked Joe.

“Yes,” the professor replied. “They probably won’t attack the boats. And if they should they could do little or no damage to the stout hulls.”

For a few seconds he conversed with the Indians. Then the party resumed the journey, keeping a close watch about.

No more was seen of the alligators, and the explorers again were quiet. But now they were more anxious than ever before, for the past experience had stirred their sporting blood and made them long for a jaunt in the forest. Even Professor Bigelow was affected, and he sat fingering his rifle as if awaiting another such incident.

“Alligators and crocodiles are very much alike,” said Mr. Lewis, wishing to break the silence. “The only difference is in the canine teeth. In the alligator they fit into pits in the upper jaw; in the crocodile they fit into notches. Otherwise they look alike.”

“Which is the most ferocious?” inquired Joe, thoroughly interested.

“Scarcely any difference,” his father returned. “Both are bad enough when they’re after you.”

For a time the adventurers paddled near the center of the river, in order to avoid heavy piles of brush that lay near the shore’s edge. They did not feel like talking. The mid-afternoon sun beat down upon them until they were dripping with perspiration. Why, even summer Florida weather was nothing to this!

The water glistened like silver. It was almost impossible even to cast eyes upon it, for the reflection of the sun was extremely blinding.

For entertainment and amusement the boys’ fathers and Professor Bigelow related some of their experiences, which Bob and Joe never grew tired of hearing. The naturalists told of encounters with wild animals; the professor, of savage people. Bob and Joe sat in silence, marveling that before long they could tell of happenings probably as much or more breath-taking.

Suddenly, as they neared a patch of bright red bushes, Mr. Holton called to the Indians to stop the boat.

“What is it?” asked Bob, and then his gaze followed that of his father.

Not far away on a low branch was a large oriole, almost the size of a crow, with a red and white bill, and yellow, green, and brown plumage. It uttered not a word, although no one doubted that it could.

“We must have that bird,” whispered Mr. Holton. “It is rather rare, and few of them are in museums. Keep quiet now, while I get a small gun.”

The others obeyed. The naturalist found a suitable shotgun. He raised it to his shoulder, took careful aim, and pulled the trigger.

The next moment there was a terrible screeching and wailing. The bird fluttered about for a brief second, then fell into the water.

“You got him,” said Bob joyously. “You——Well, of all things!”

The reason for his exclamation was not far to seek. No sooner had the bird struck the water than a rather small fish darted to the surface, caught the bird by the breast, and bit it in two. It evidently did not like the taste, however, for the remains of the bird’s body were left to float on the water.

“Stung!” exclaimed Mr. Holton, regaining his breath. “The piranhas spoiled the chance of getting that specimen.”

“So that fish was a piranha?” asked Joe, looking to see if he could locate it in the dark water.

“Yes,” Mr. Lewis returned. “They’re mean creatures, all right. Got a temper like a bull. They’ll attack anything from jaguars to people, and they usually do the job right. I once heard of a man devoured by them in a very short time.”

“It wasn’t very large,” said Bob. “Looked about like a pickerel to me.”

“It isn’t their size,” his father returned. “It’s their ferocity—and strong, sharp teeth.”

“Let’s don’t worry about the bird,” consoled the professor. “We’ll probably see more of them later on.”

The naturalists resolved to follow the professor’s advice and regard the matter as one of the many discouragements that could be expected at almost any time.

“After all, we didn’t lose much,” said Mr. Lewis. “But then—but then——”

As they paddled on, signs of life became more frequent. Once there was a small flock of bright red birds, and the naturalists had more luck in bringing them in as specimens. None was shot near the river; only those on shore were aimed at. A little later they saw the first monkeys since they had turned down this river. They had often heard the little creatures in the depths of the jungle, but had never been successful in getting a glimpse of them.

Along toward evening Mr. Lewis suggested that they go ashore and pitch camp for the night. His friends agreed, and after making sure that the Indians were willing, he gave the word and the boats were turned into a little cove, where they were tied to a stout tree.

“Plenty of room around here,” observed Bob, as he got out and stretched his legs. “No trees within a radius of several score feet. Ought to be fairly good protection against night marauders.”

The tents and poles were untied, and after locating a suitable site the stakes were driven to the ground, the poles hoisted, and the hammocks hung.

Then a bountiful supper was prepared, and the party ate hungrily. Bob and Joe especially partook of large quantities, for their appetites were those of youth.

After the meal the explorers sat in a group, chatting merrily. Even the Indians took part in the conversation, answering many of the whites’ questions about the jungles they were passing through. Bob and Joe had trouble in understanding them, but their fathers translated whenever there was any difficulty.

A little later, darkness fell suddenly, and with it came the chill of night.

“Seems strange that the nights should be so cool when the days are so hot,” remarked Bob, going into the tent for a coat.

“Does at that,” said Mr. Lewis. “But it’s true of all tropical places.”

Soon the sky became dotted with countless numbers of twinkling stars. Soon afterwards the moon came out in full splendor, flooding the boundless expanse with enchanting light, and casting a reflection on the water beautiful beyond description.

The explorers were filled with awe as they sat staring into the vast jungle, thrilled that they were the only inhabitants on this wild shore.

For some time no one spoke. Then Mr. Holton rose and looked at his watch.

“Getting late,” he said, walking over to a box of supplies.

“Yes,” agreed Professor Bigelow. “I suggest that we turn in.”

The others agreed, and they attended to last-minute tasks.

“Ordinarily it is the Indians’ duty to stand guard,” said Mr. Lewis, glancing at the brawny crew, several of whom had fallen asleep. “But since they’ve worked hard and unflinchingly, and are nearly worn out, I suggest that we whites take turn about on this first night. We’ve had it comparatively easy all day. Then, too, it will increase their respect and liking for us. What do you think?”

“I’m all for it,” declared Professor Bigelow. “Now who is to have the first watch?”

It was decided to draw straws, the person getting the shortest to be the first guard.

By chance the short piece fell to Bob, and he took his place just outside the tents, sitting on one of the boxes, a rifle in ready grasp. The others retired to their hammocks.

For over a half-hour Bob stared quietly into space, glancing occasionally at the sparkling river. Then he decided to change his position.

But at that moment there came a crashing sound on the far side of a group of palm trees.

The youth was on his feet at the instant, wondering what the noise meant. Then he decided to find out.

“It’s only a short distance from camp,” he thought. “There’s no harm in going over there.”

Grasping his rifle, he stole quietly in the direction of the strange commotion.

It did not take him long to reach the patch of trees. Then he wormed his way through the tall grass for a distance of perhaps twenty feet.

The next instant he shrank back, for the sight that met his eyes was fearful and repulsive.

CHAPTER XIII
The Death Struggle

BESIDE a patch of bushes was a large wildcat, greedily devouring the remains of a small deer. Most of the deer’s body has been torn to pieces, so that only the head remained intact. There was a terrible stare from the wide eyes that caused Bob to shudder in disgust.

The tiger-cat was evidently very hungry, for it would scarcely bite out one section when it would tear into another, crunching horribly. Occasionally it would shift its position and sample various parts of the body. It finally crouched at the stomach, and in no time stripped the flesh from the bone.

The sight was not wholly to Bob’s liking, but he could not tear himself away. After all, the occasion was not one so terrible. All wild creatures must eat, and this is the only way they know.

Bob lifted his eyes from the feast to the great cat, and for the first time saw how beautifully marked it was. Why had he not noticed that before? Probably because he was much more impressed by the meal. The wildcat’s fur was of a light brown, spotted and barred with black and darker brown. Its abdomen was pure white, and seemed spotlessly clean. It looked about four feet long, exclusive of the tail.

“Doesn’t look very ferocious,” Bob thought, but he knew what would probably happen if the creature were to discover him in its domain.

For several minutes the feast continued, the animal’s hunger seeming to increase rather than lessen.

Suddenly there came a rustling sound from behind a low shrub.

Instantly the cat was on its feet, tail erect, eyes staring.

The rustling sound continued, and a moment later another cat of the same type leaped out into the clearing, took in its surroundings carefully, and then made for the body of the deer.

But it did not get far. A moment later the first tiger-cat crouched itself and sprang at the invader’s throat. Then a terrific combat took place, the memory of which was to remain with Bob for many years to come.

The creatures thrashed constantly about, each trying to inflict a death wound. They growled horribly, and occasionally one would cry out in pain. Sometimes they reared up on hind legs, biting and tearing fearfully. Then again they would be on top of each other, stamping and tearing to the height of their ability. For nearly five minutes the fight continued, and by now it was evident that the invader was getting the worst of it. Instead of being on the offensive it slunk back, trying in vain to ward off the assaults of its enemy. Suddenly it fell back, as a vital part was pierced. The first tiger-cat had won.

A few more minutes were spent in awaiting any further movements from the defeated, but as none came the victor resumed its feast.

“All over,” Bob muttered to himself. “A swell fight, too. I wouldn’t have missed it for anything. But say! This fellow would be a fine specimen for Dad and Mr. Lewis. I wonder if I can plug him. Don’t think the dead one will be of much use to them, it’s so badly mauled.”

The moon was still shining down brightly, and it was nearly as light as day. This was both an advantage and a disadvantage. True, it would be much easier to get a good aim at the animal, but the light would make Bob much more easily seen. Still he resolved to chance it.

Gripping his rifle firmly, he parted the bushes and rose to his feet. But the slight commotion caused the tiger-cat to turn about, and rage came into its eyes as they lighted on the youth. What was this new type of creature that had come to interrupt the feast?

Bob raised his rifle to his shoulder and awaited a chance to fire an effective shot. But none came. The great cat crouched to spring.

“I’ve got to get him,” said Bob, gritting his teeth.

Then, as the animal launched itself into the air, the youth took rapid but careful aim and fired.

The bullet sped true, entering the open mouth.

The tiger-cat fell at the boy’s feet, twitched about for a moment, and then lay still.

“Hurrah!” Bob cried, exulted beyond words. “I got him. And what a fine specimen.”

The rifle shot had aroused the rest of the expedition, and they came running out, wondering what was meant.

“What’s up?” demanded Mr. Holton, as he first caught sight of his son.

“Plenty,” Bob replied and led them to the bodies of the wildcats.

Everyone cried out in surprise and amazement at sight of the beasts.

“Ocelots,” pronounced Mr. Lewis. “I didn’t know that they were this common. How did you happen to come across them?”

Bob was obliged to relate the entire experience. He told of how he had come across one of the creatures at the body of the deer, of the thrilling combat that took place when the other ocelot arrived, and of shooting the survivor. The party listened with breathless interest, and even the Indians demanded a translation.

“An unusual happening,” said Professor Bigelow, looking at Bob in admiration and wishing that he had been present.

“Takes old Bob to do it,” smiled Joe. “And that required some nerve, too. The first wild animal he’s ever met.”

“It’s a case where the first is one of the most savage,” remarked Mr. Lewis, directing a glance at the creature’s sharp canine teeth. “The ocelot is next only to the jaguar in ferocity and daring.”

“Not much left of the deer he was feasting on,” observed Joe. “I suppose he would have left little more than the skeleton if Bob hadn’t so rudely interrupted him.”

Mr. Holton and Mr. Lewis procured knives and began the task of skinning the creatures. It was believed that both could be used, as the one that had been previously killed was not as badly mauled as Bob had thought.

In a short time the skinning was completed, and they again retired for the night, Bob remaining throughout the remainder of his watch. Nothing more happened that night, however, and they awoke the next morning to witness a beautiful sunrise. Breakfast was soon over, and then began the task of breaking camp.

“Let’s hurry,” urged Professor Bigelow. “We want to cover twenty miles today, if possible.”

“And we will if rapids don’t bar our way,” said Mr. Lewis.

Soon the belongings were packed in the boats, and they started on up the river. Meanwhile Bob and Joe were taking motion pictures quite often and were always on the lookout for new sights. Many times did they regret that they had been unable to film Bob’s experience of the night before.

The men kept their time occupied in writing notes and collecting specimens, which were growing in number hourly. Already there was an abundance of game. Monkeys quite often were crowded in the trees, birds of brilliant plumage were more numerous, various small animals darted out, and once Joe caught a glimpse of a wild pig running through the underbrush.

“When are we going ashore?” asked Bob. “Looks like here is a good chance to get some specimens.”

“It undoubtedly is,” Mr. Holton returned. “And we would try our luck now if Professor Bigelow were not anxious to find a strange tribe of Indians that’s reputed to be somewhere in this region. When we locate it we can stop and stay at one spot as long as the professor chooses, for game will probably be abundant, and we will have the chance to get scores of specimens.”

That day they made nearly twenty-five miles, and all were delighted that no rapids loomed up to hinder them.

“There’s nothing that puts you at more inconvenience than rapids,” said Professor Bigelow, as they sought out a place to camp for the night.

They found the spot they wanted beside a rocky knoll, not far from the river. There was a small open space a short distance away, and to this the party made. Again preparations were made for the night, and then the evening meal was prepared.

“Let’s turn in early,” suggested Mr. Holton, after they had finished eating. “The three Indians in the back boat complained that one of the clamps for an oar is loose, and it may take quite a while to repair it. For that reason we must be up early in the morning.”

The clamp, they discovered later, had been split through, making it necessary to carve out a new one. To do this was not easy, for suitable wood had to be cut and measurements taken. All told, there was a delay of over three hours.

“Now let’s go,” urged Professor Bigelow, his patience almost exhausted.

Day after day the miles were laid behind them in both a pleasant and disagreeable manner. In times when treacherous rapids offered a hindrance, they struggled unflinchingly, often knee deep in the water or mud. But there were chances for relaxation, when there was nothing to do but take it easy in the high seats of the boats. Bob and Joe could not fully realize that they were not in a dream but that this was the real thing—a wild, untamed land in the very heart of vast Amazonia.

“It’s great, Joe, old boy,” said Bob, when over a week had passed. “I’ve often visualized this expedition, but my expectations are far surpassed.”

One morning when they were paddling swiftly along, Professor Bigelow uttered a cry of delight and pointed to the bank.

“Indians!” he cried excitedly. “At last we’ve found a band of Indians!”

CHAPTER XIV
The Deserted Village

PROFESSOR Bigelow was right. On the shore not far away were a dozen or more native huts, grouped in a cluster about one that was larger and more carefully built. All about on the ground were various objects of daily life, such as wooden machetes, pots and kettles of clay, pieces of wood, and hides and skins of animals. But, strain their eyes as they did, the explorers could see no Indians.

The explorers were uncertain as to whether it would be safe to go ashore, but finally Professor Bigelow resolved to take the chance. He was as excited as a boy, and seemed not able to wait until the boats could be turned to the river bank.

The crew, however, were a bit dubious about the venture into an unknown village. They had heard stories of how explorers had been massacred by savage Indians, and as they had never been far as this upstream, they were at a loss to know how the strange tribe would treat them.

Still if the strange scientist was bound to hazard it they would go, although they would be ready for instant flight if necessary.

The boats were brought up alongside the bank and made secure to small trees. Then the explorers climbed out and looked about.

“An ideal site for a village,” said Joe, glancing about.

“Trust the natives to pick out the best spots,” said Bob.

Slowly and cautiously they walked toward the village, gripping their rifles tightly. When within a short distance from the foremost hut they stopped, and the professor, who had studied the languages spoken in this region, called out loudly in the native tongue—or rather what he thought to be the native tongue.

There was no answer, and the explorers proceeded on into the habitation.

“No signs of life anywhere,” said Professor Bigelow.

“Perhaps another tribe invaded and killed the inhabitants,” suggested Mr. Lewis, glancing about.

“No,” disagreed the professor. “There is evidence that the place has been recently inhabited. For instance, look at those ashes over there,” pointing to a place where a fire had been built. “They are not very old. I know the signs. We can look for the tribe at almost any time now.”

“Seems strange that the women and children went away too,” said Mr. Holton, almost unbelievingly.

“They often do it,” answered the professor. “The women, you see, do almost as much as the men. In many cases they do much more. They many times go along on excursions into the forest to carry the weapons and the trophies of the hunt. And as this is a rather small settlement, we can take that for granted.”

“When do you think they’ll return?” asked Bob.

“That is hard to say,” was the reply. “It is all according to how long they have been out. They may be back in a few hours, or it may be a week. But,” he added, “I am all for waiting. The chances are we’ll be all right.”

They explored the huts and found them to be very substantially built. There were few pieces of furniture in them, but the largest hut, which was undoubtedly the chief’s, contained several articles of interest to the visitors. There were brightly decorated pots and kettles, carved sticks, jaguar hides, spears and clubs, bows and arrows and blowguns.

“Quite an elaborate display of implements,” remarked Joe, examining a blowgun with interest. This weapon was about ten feet long, round and tapering, and covered with a glossy substance resembling glue. At each end it was bound with heavy cord made from vines. A quiver of arrows was attached to it, and, with utmost care lest they be poisoned, he took one out. It was about three feet long and sharp as a needle.

There were many other objects of domestic use lying and hanging about, and they were examined especially by Professor Bigelow, who had found himself in an anthropologist’s paradise. Baskets, closely woven from a strange type of straw, were filled with farina; bone tubes for snuffing were strewn about, and many kinds of ornaments hung on wooden pegs.

Bob’s attention was attracted to a kind of necklace, which was strung with the teeth of some wild animal—unless, but this was hardly probable, they were human teeth.

“Not human,” smiled Mr. Holton. “Can’t you tell a monkey’s molars when you see them?”

“Sorry, but I’m not as much of a naturalist and zoölogist as you are,” laughed Bob.

Meanwhile Joe was cranking the movie camera, filming the entire village. As a matter of fact he had been engaged in doing this since they first sighted the village.

“These ought to be interesting scenes,” he confided to Bob, as the two walked toward the river bank.

“They will be,” was the reply. “Tend to break the monotony of the constant river-traveling.”

At the shore they found several native canoes tethered to trees. They were mere dugouts, but they looked staunch and strong enough to stem almost any current.

The youths spent several more minutes at the bank; then they made their way back to the others.

“What’d you find?” asked Mr. Lewis.

“Only native canoes,” Bob answered. “Only——”

He stopped and listened. What was that he had heard?

Again it came to his ears, this time louder and nearer.

“Sounds like someone’s shouting,” said Joe. “Sounds like——”

“Indians!” cried Professor Bigelow. “The Indians are returning!”

CHAPTER XV
Danger at Hand

“QUICK! Let’s get to the boats at once!” cried Mr. Holton. “It won’t do for them to find us here in the village.”

The explorers hastened to the river bank with all the speed they could put into their legs. Not until they were safe in the boats did they draw a breath. Then they cast glances about the shore.

The shouting grew louder, and the next moment twenty-five or thirty semi-naked Indians burst into the clearing and made for the huts. But one that was evidently the chief called them back and pointed to the river, where the explorers’ canoes were moored.

“Now’s the time to act,” muttered Professor Bigelow, getting out of the boat.

He strode up to within fifty feet of the Indians, throwing his hands apart in a gesture of friendliness. Then he called out something that the other whites did not understand.

Immediately there was a turmoil of excited chattering, in which the chief took the biggest part. Then the latter called back to the professor, who listened eagerly. In the end there was a smile on his face.

“It’s all right,” he said to the explorers, beckoning them to come ashore.

“Sure there’s no danger?” asked Mr. Lewis.

“It will be safe. The chief welcomed us into the village.”

Mr. Holton was the first one out of the boat, followed by Joe, Mr. Lewis, and Bob. The crew trailed.

They did not think it wise to bring their rifles, for the Indians might suspect them. But each had a revolver in his holster, and it was Mr. Lewis who warned them to be on the lookout for any treachery.

Professor Bigelow waited for them to come nearer. Then he led the way into the village.

For several minutes he carried on conversation with the chief and seemed to have little or no trouble in understanding him. The Indian regarded him soberly most of the time, but at several of the professor’s remarks he smiled broadly.

“The professor’s building up a feeling of good will,” grinned Bob, a new glow of respect for the scientist coming over him.

“He’ll manage those savages all right,” said Mr. Holton, as he recalled some of the encounters with savage people that had been told of Professor Bigelow.

The conversation ended with an introduction of the other whites to the Indians, and after a few more casual remarks Professor Bigelow resolved to tell why they were there.

While the remainder of his party waited in ignorance of what was being said, he related the details of the expedition: why it had been organized, what its purposes were, and where it intended to explore. All this he put in the simple language of the natives, and although it was difficult to convey many ideas correctly, he succeeded admirably.

The chief’s answer was that he and his people would furnish information about their daily life, and, if the whites so desired, they would also help in getting specimens. The big Indian stressed the point that these were the first white people he had ever seen, although several of the older members of the tribe had met a party of them many years ago.

Professor Bigelow translated what had been said, and the naturalists were joyous. They could gain many things by remaining here with these simple people.

As soon as the novelty had worn off, the chief, whose name was Otari, escorted the party to one big hut, where they were to remain at night during their stay at the village.

“Plenty of room here,” observed Joe, glancing about the thatched walls.

“Yes,” Bob agreed. “Not a bit crowded. It’s one of the best dwellings in the settlement.”

Much room as there was, however, there were only a few pieces of native furniture and implements. A large box-like table, assembled with wooden pegs, stood in the middle of the room. Beneath it were five or six clay pots and containers, each washed clean. In one corner were two bows and arrows and a blow gun.

“They sure use poor taste in furnishing a house,” grinned Bob. “But I suppose for them it’s sufficient.”

Professor Bigelow thought it wise to bring in their belongings from the boats, but the others were a bit dubious about the safety of them.

“We can leave the crew to guard them when we are away,” he said. “I don’t think even that will be necessary, for I have a light, portable safe that I take on all expeditions such as this.”

He opened a large box and took out several flat pieces of metal. To his friends’ astonishment they were easily lifted, although they looked to weigh seventy pounds each.

“They are magnalium,” he explained. “About the lightest and strongest metal there is.”

There were lock clamps at the edges of each piece, and these were fitted into each other. In a short time a large safe stood before their eyes.

Bob gasped in astonishment.

“That’s a new one on me,” he confessed. “Never heard of anything like it.”

“It’s also new to me,” said Mr. Lewis. “I knew there were such safes, but heretofore I have never seen one.”

“But,” hesitated Mr. Holton, “what kind of an explanation will we give the Indians? It occurs to me that they would take this as a kind of insult. Might get it in their heads that we thought they would steal something.”

“Restrain yourself from worrying about that,” the professor consoled him. “I’ve used this before many times. As an explanation, we’ll simply say that the safe is a place to store the belongings where we can have them easily at hand. Then, too, it will prevent any of the children from curiously straying into our hut to meddle with things. I’ve never yet had any trouble.”

The safe was large enough to hold the professor’s typewriter, paper, a few books, and various other essential objects. In addition, there was room for rifles, ammunition, knives and preparations used in skinning, and several other articles that it was best to lock up.

“It’s just the thing,” remarked Joe. “Now we can be sure that valuable possessions will always be here when we get back from a hunting trip.”

“I will probably spend most of my time in here writing and conversing with the natives,” Professor Bigelow said. “So when you are out you can be doubly sure that things will be all right.”

It was now about meal time, and the chief wanted to bring the explorers dishes of native food, but they thanked him, saying that they would use their own provisions.

“For my part I don’t care for any of their delicacies,” grinned Joe. “You can never tell what you’re getting.”

“True enough,” laughed Mr. Holton. “For that reason we’ll stick to our own grub.”

After lunching bountifully, the explorers rested on the straw beds and felt much better for it. When an hour had passed, Mr. Holton rose and walked over to the supplies.

“Let’s go out specimen-collecting,” he suggested, getting out a rifle and small shotgun.

Bob and Joe were on their feet in an instant, their faces radiant with delight. At last had come a chance to explore the jungle, with its many thrills, wonders, and tragedies. How they had longed for it!

“Can’t get there any too soon for me,” said Bob, grasping his rifle.

Mr. Lewis also agreed, and they started out toward the back of the village, Bob and Joe in the lead.

There was a fairly well blazed trail at the edge of the last hut, and the hunters resolved to follow it.

“Probably won’t be much large game along this path, but there will undoubtedly be others branching off from it,” remarked Mr. Holton, as he took the lead and plunged into the jungle.

That jungle interested the youths immensely, for the variety of tropical vegetation was wide. Trees of all types grew one beside another, their leaves coming in contact with each other. Many of the trunks were encircled with parasitic vines, which, in many cases, caused the trees to be stunted. All about on the ground were shrubs and bushes and tall grass that hindered walking.

“Have to be careful here,” warned Mr. Lewis, carefully avoiding a low shrub studded with sharp-pointed thorns.

“Right,” agreed Bob’s father. “Keep a ready hand on your rifles, for there are countless creatures that may be dangerous.”

Although the jungle seemed thick at the start, it was nothing to what they found it later on. Vegetation was certainly dense. Large clusters of ferns barred the way, their enormous leaves suggesting forests of prehistoric times. Gay flowers loomed up here and there, tempting the hunters to stop and marvel at their beauty. Oddly shaped plants were numerous, among them being a stalk that grew straight up for a distance of perhaps ten feet, then spliced and fell to the ground in several places.

Bob and Joe had expected much, but this was beyond any of their anticipations. Nature was certainly bountiful in displaying her art in these little-known places.

After a fifteen-minute hike they reached a region of thick bushes, many of which bore sharp-pointed thorns that were far from pleasant to encounter. Even with their heavy clothing, they emerged with torn garments and with bruises that stung and pained severely. But the unpleasantness was lost before the many tropical wonders that presented themselves.

Suddenly a flock of white birds flew overhead, and Mr. Lewis and Bob fired their shotguns together. At once four fell to the ground, amid the terrible screeching of the others.

“Egrets,” said Mr. Holton, upon examining the birds.

As the hunters moved on they added many other birds and small animals to the collection. One of the most remarkable of the latter was a large ant-bear, with a long, slender head that terminated into a toothless mouth. The creature was about four feet long, with a bushy tail protruding another two feet.

Bob and Joe did their part in the specimen-collecting, and they at once won the recognition of their elders for their accurate shooting. Bob was especially praised, for he was not far behind the men in marksmanship.

The hunters had been out several hours when Mr. Lewis suggested that they get back to the village.

“Professor Bigelow and the others may worry about us,” he said. “In my opinion we have been out long enough for the first time.”

The others agreed, and they were about to retrace their footsteps when Joe caught sight of something that turned his blood cold.

CHAPTER XVI
A Thrilling Encounter

PROTRUDING from a tree bough not ten feet away was a long, sinister snake, its evil eyes glistening in what little sunlight penetrated the dense jungle. Whether it was poisonous Joe did not know, but he knew that even though it were not it would be dangerous to the extreme.

As cautiously as possible he nudged his companions, and then the naturalists held their rifles tighter. Here, only a short distance away, was a jararaca, one of the most poisonous of Brazilian reptiles—a snake that often was known to take the aggressive.

For a moment there was silence—an ominous silence that ended in a blood-curdling hiss.

Mr. Holton and Mr. Lewis raised their rifles and took long and careful aim. Bob followed suit, although he was not sure that his aim would be true.

Then, just as the snake prepared to strike, the men fired simultaneously, and Bob pulled the trigger a second later.

In such a crisis it was necessary that their bullets take effect, and they did.

The reptile’s head was shattered into a horrible pulp that was all but sickening, and the great body lashed about in pain. For several minutes the movements continued; then, as life faded out, the snake became less active, finally stretching out into one last mass.

“Whew!” breathed Bob, relaxing for the first time. “That was some encounter.”

Mr. Holton nodded in affirmation.

“If we had been stung by those terrible fangs it would have been the last of us,” he said, casting a resentful look in that direction.

“The venom is extremely powerful,” remarked Mr. Lewis, wiping the perspiration from his brow. “It is yellow in color, and takes effect almost immediately. The nervous system becomes paralyzed in a very short time.”

“A pleasant way to die—I don’t think,” muttered Joe, shrugging his shoulders.

They made a wide circle about the reptile’s body and started on the return journey.

“I’d like to have it as a specimen,” remarked Mr. Lewis, referring to the jararaca. “But in its shattered condition it would not be worth the taking.”

The hunters rested awhile under the shade of a large hardwood tree, whose branches extended out over a great distance. Then Mr. Holton took up his belongings, and the others did the same.

Gradually the jungle became less dense, and at last they came to the village, where they were given a hearty greeting by the Indians, who were glad to see the hunters back in the village. They found Professor Bigelow in the hut, his hands flying over the keys of the typewriter.

At first he did not notice them, thinking they were Indians, but finally he lifted his gaze.

“What kind of luck did you have?” he inquired absently.

The others hesitated a moment at the professor’s almost unconscious question. It was evident that the anthropologist was becoming deeply absorbed in this work of observing the daily life of the little-known Indians. Then, with a wink at the others, Mr. Holton decided on a preposterous answer to see how the professor would take it.

“We brought down two tigers and an elephant,” he said, in as sober tones as he could summon.