Human Heads Still Dripping!
The sight that Bob beheld was one that few hunters and scientists have
the opportunity of seeing. Strange sights were common enough in all
little-known lands, but this was indeed a wonder of wonders.
Not thirty feet in the air a bird resembling an eagle was carrying a
half-grown tapir with apparently perfect ease, although the tapir was
three times heavier than itself. The tapir was very much alive, as
indicated by its writhing movements, but these availed it nothing. It
might as well have been caught in an iron vise.
For several minutes Bob stared spellbound, taken completely aback.
Finally he called himself to action and raised his rifle.
"Dad and Mr. Lewis would no doubt welcome the addition of such an
unusual specimen as this eagle," he thought and then pulled the
trigger.
The report of the gun was immediately followed by the dropping of the
bird and its prey. It fluttered about for a moment and then lay still.
The tapir had been killed instantly by the fall.
Much to Bob's surprise, the bird could be lifted easily, and he
hastened on to the Indian settlement, confident that the naturalists
would nearly throw a fit over the strange eagle.
And he thought right. Mr. Holton and Mr. Lewis exclaimed in delight
and surprise when they caught sight of Bob and the strange creature he
was carrying.
"Where did you ever find it?" asked Mr. Lewis, and Bob was forced to
tell of the entire experience.
"The great hairy eagle," pronounced Mr. Holton, when the youth had
finished. "I thought they were confined to the jungles of Guiana,
didn't you, Ben?" he asked of Joe's father.
"Yes," was the reply. "Never heard of their being found here. Such is
unusual indeed. The claws are the most powerful of any known bird."
But there was little time for further examining the specimen, for the
wounded Indians needed treatment. The member of the crew was looked
after first, and then they turned to the chief's men, many of whom
were seriously wounded. As for those who had been struck by poisoned
arrows, treatment was unnecessary, for death had set in long before.
The better part of an hour was spent in giving first-aid to the
unfortunate savages, and in the end they felt that a large number of
lives had been saved by their actions.
"But don't think that the natives have no cure for human ills," said
Professor Bigelow. "The chances are that they know of many remedies
that surpass those of civilization in curing properties."
When the task was completed, the Indians invited the whites to come in
the main hut and participate in a feast in honor of their ability to
drive off the hostile invaders. The invitation was accepted at once,
for the explorers were all very hungry.
"Wonder what they'll give us to eat?" asked Joe, as they went into the
thatched hut.
"Perhaps it'll be better not to know," Bob grinned.
Whatever it was, however, it tasted good, and they ate heartily of
everything.
"Now I'm going to get in touch with the chief, whose name I recently
learned is Reemikuk," announced Professor Bigelow. "But first,
however, I must have my typewriter. That means a trip to the boats."
"And while he's doing that, Mr. Lewis and I can have a look about the
village," Bob's father said. "Perhaps you boys can show us the places
and things of interest. Will you do it?"
"To be sure we will," returned Joe. "But first," he said with a grim
smile, "you must prepare yourselves to see things that are
unpleasant."
"What do you mean?" his father demanded.
For answer the youths led the way to the trophy house and its hideous
contents.
Impulsively the naturalists shrank back in disgust at the scene. Never
had they laid eyes on such a place of horror before.
"To think," muttered Mr. Lewis, "that even these wild people could do
such hideous things!"
But despite the gruesomeness of the place they spent several minutes
there, unable to tear themselves away from its terrible fascination.
At last Mr. Holton made for the outside.
"Now for something more pleasant," he said. "What is there, boys?"
"Plenty," answered Joe. "There are games and baskets and carvings
and...."
All the remainder of that day was spent in examining the many articles
of interest made by the simple savages.
When at last they went back to the hut that was to be theirs during
their stay at the village, they found the professor in earnest
conversation with the chief and a witch doctor.
The Indians were talking slowly, so that the scientist could pick up
every word. He glanced up at the other whites only for a moment, so
deeply engrossed was he in what the savages were telling him.
"He seems to be enjoying himself immensely," observed Joe aside to his
chum.
"No doubt about it," Bob replied. "And look how the Indians are
regarding the typewriter. Probably think it's another of the whites'
magics."
Professor Bigelow _was_ enjoying himself. Every strange custom of the
savages appealed to him as a wonderful item to put in the book he
intended to write about the primitive inhabitants of these wild
regions. But two days later something happened that, although
considered a very interesting custom by the anthropologist, was not to
the liking of the other whites. A band of twenty-five warriors had
gone into the upper reaches of the river several days before, and now
they returned laden with--human heads!
"Ugh! Me for the hut," said Bob, a sickly feeling creeping over him as
he viewed the ghastly trophies.
And the others, with the exception of Professor Bigelow, felt the same
way. The anthropologist, however, seemed to be thoroughly enjoying the
terrible scene.
"How thrilling a custom!" he said to his friends that night, as they
prepared to retire.
For answer the others only groaned.
But if the explorers thought the mere carrying in of human heads was
gruesome, they were to witness something still more terrible before a
week would pass.