THE RAPOSA
McKay and Lourenço, in a broad, low, musty-smelling room, faced a man
who stood and a man who sat. The man who stood was the old savage who
could talk in the Mayoruna language. The man who sat was the chief of
the Red Bones.
In his first words to the visitors the old interpreter revealed that the
name of the Red Bone ruler was Umanuh. Later on Lourenço informed McKay
that in the Tupi _lengoa geral_ of the Amazonian Indians (which,
however, was not spoken by this tribe) the word "umanuh" meant "corpse."
And whatever the name may have signified in the language of the Red
Bones, its Tupi definition fitted with disagreeable precision. For
Umanuh was a living cadaver.
Gaunt, gray skinned, lank haired, hollow of cheek and eye, with thin,
cruel lips so tight drawn that the teeth behind seemed to show through,
ribs projecting, clawlike hands resting on bony knees, his whole frame
motionless as that of a man long dead, the head man of the bone-dyeing
tribe was the antithesis of both the piggish Suba and the herculean
Monitaya. Only his eyes lived; and those eyes were cold and merciless as
those of a snake or a vulture. A man who ruled by ruthless cunning, who
would gaze unmoved on the most ghastly tortures, who would devour human
flesh with ghoulish relish--such was the creature who sat in a red-dyed
hammock and contemplated the impassive face of McKay.
"Umanuh, great chief, eater of his enemies, with fangs of the jaguar and
wisdom of the great snake, awaits the greeting of the one-whose-hair
grows-from-his-mouth," droned the old mouthpiece of the chief.
"Makkay, leader of the fighting men of the Blackbeards, whose voice is
the thunder and whose hand spits lightning and death, gives greeting to
Umanuh," responded Lourenço in a like droning tone.
A pause. Umanuh gave no sign of life. McKay, straight and cold, met the
unwinking stare of the chief with his own chill gray gaze. Between the
two who spoke not was a testing of wills.
"Makkay brings with him none of the Blackbeard warriors," pointed out
the interpreter, who seemed to know his master's thought. "He comes with
only the jungle men of light skins."
"Makkay needs none of his own warriors when he comes in peace. If he
came in war the terrible Blackbeards with him would cause the whole
forest to fly apart in smoke and flame. Since he walks in peace to visit
his friend Umanuh, of whose wisdom he has heard, he brings only his
friends the Mayorunas, who are friends also to the men of the Red
Bones."
Another pause. The old man now seemed somewhat uncertain of himself. The
silent duel between McKay and Umanuh went on. At length the chief's eyes
flickered a trifle. In a hissing whisper he said something.
"The men of the Mayorunas never come to this country unless seeking
something," the interpreter promptly spoke up. "What do they seek?"
"Only that which Makkay seeks."
Then, turning to the captain, the Brazilian added: "Capitao, we now have
reached the point to talk business. Have you any presents? And is it
your wish to give them now or later?"
"I have a few things. But I'll give them later--if at all. This chief is
hostile. Tell him what we're here for and see how he acts."
"It has come to the ears of Makkay," Lourenço informed the man of
Umanuh, "that a man of the Blackbeards lives among the men of the Red
Bones. Makkay would see that man."
Again the interpreter awaited his master's voice before answering.
"No man of the Blackbeards is among the men of Umanuh," he then denied.
"If he is not among them he is near them," was Lourenço's certain reply.
"He has been seen both by other Blackbeards and by the Mayorunas. I,
too, have seen him. He bears on his bones the sign that his mind is out
of his skull. His eyes are green and his hair touched with white. Umanuh
and his men know well that I speak true."
The pause this time was longer than before.
"There was such a man, but he is gone."
"Then Makkay asks his friend Umanuh to find that one. A chief so wise
can easily find him where others would see only water and mud."
"If he could be found what would the great Blackbeard leader do with
him?"
Lourenço thought swiftly. To say the Raposa was McKay's friend would do
little good. Friendship meant nothing to this unfeeling brute. Therefore
the bushman insinuated something which his cruel mind could comprehend.
"If a Red Bone man abandoned his people and went to another tribe, what
would Umanuh do to him when he was found?"
A cold glimmer in the chief's eyes showed that he thought he understood.
Moreover, he would much like to see what sort of torture this hard-faced
Blackbeard would use on a fugitive. It might be something even more
fiendish than his own pastimes. So the next reply came promptly.
"If that man is found the blackbeard will pay for him?"
"There are gifts of friendship for Umanuh," Lourenço nodded.
"The Blackbeard leader will pay more than the other Blackbeard?"
Lourenço almost blinked. What other Blackbeard? The Raposa himself? But
the Brazilian repressed his bewilderment.
"Makkay will first see the man to make sure he is the Blackbeard whom
Makkay wants," he dodged. "Then he will pay well."
"Umanuh will see the gifts now."
"The gifts cannot be shown now. They are packed away. When Makkay has
looked on the man Umanuh shall look on the gifts."
Another eye duel between the chief and McKay. As before, the captain's
eye proved the harder.
"Umanuh will think of the matter. Night comes. The man hunted by the
Blackbeard is not here. The Blackbeard and his men may stay to-night
across the water. When the sun rises again Umanuh will talk further."
"It is well. Let Umanuh tell his men to stay on this side of the water,
that we may not mistake them in the night for enemies."
When Umanuh had hissed assent the old man stepped to the doorway and
summoned the hatchet-faced warrior. To him instructions were given. He
turned and carried the commands to the tribesmen.
"Makkay wishes Umanuh peaceful rest," said Lourenço. With which he
flicked his eyes toward the door. McKay, with stiff stride, stalked out.
Lourenço followed. Both felt the snake eyes of the cadaverous chief
dwelling on their backs.
To the waiting Knowlton, Pedro, and Tucu it was briefly explained that
preliminary negotiations had been concluded and that camp now would be
made on the farther side of the creek. Tucu, observing that the Red Bone
mass behind was dividing again to let the visitors pass through, gave
the word to his men. The column began to move out, marching in reverse
order. Pedro muttered swiftly to his partner.
"Lourenço, see that house with the barred door where the clubman stands
guard. Remember where it is."
The other swept the loop in one quick glance, located the house, and
fell into step without a word, the guarded structure fixed on his brain
as clearly as if he had studied it for an hour. Walking down the
malodorous street, he said, quietly, "There will be a small moon
to-night."
"You are becoming a reader of the mind, comrade," Pedro grinned. No more
was said.
Down to the shore of the creek trooped the party, followed closely by
the hatchet-face and a score of tribesmen. The whites and the Mayorunas
got into half a dozen of the waiting canoes and paddled across. In other
dugouts the Red Bone men also crossed, but they did not land. As soon as
the borrowed boats were empty the tribesmen took them in tow and
returned to their own bank. The visitors were left on a partly cleared
shore, separated from their uncordial hosts by some twenty yards of deep
water. Not one canoe was left them. Furthermore, the Red Bones now began
activities indicating an intention to establish a night-long watch on the
irside of the stream.
"Taking no chances of our raiding them to-night, or even snooping around
town," said Knowlton. "Keeping everything in their own hands. Reckon
we'd better post sentries to-night, Rod, just to keep an eye on that
outpost of theirs."
McKay nodded.
"We four will take it in turn," he agreed. "Lourenço--Pedro--you--I.
Three-hour tours."
"Pardon, Capitao," interposed Pedro. "It would be well to change that.
You two senhores take the first two watches."
"Why?" frowned McKay.
"Because Lourenço and I wish to go visiting. We are much smitten with
the charms of the ladies here."
The captain's frown deepened, but he studied Pedro's devil-may-care face
keenly before answering.
"Humph! What's up your sleeve? Out with it!"
Pedro glanced around him and across the water. The tribesmen, both of
the Mayoruna force and of the Red Bones, were watching the colloquy.
"We are watched, Capitao. Let us make camp now and talk later. These men
do not understand our words, but we cannot tell what they may see in our
faces. Now speak harshly, as if I had been insolent."
McKay did. He thundered at the young bushman as if about to do him
bodily injury.
Pedro retreated a step, as if taken aback by the storm he had unleashed.
When McKay stopped he replied: "Excellent, Capitao. Now I go to start
work on the _tambo_."
He trudged away with a sullen gait. On both sides of the stream the
Indians muttered and looked at the tall commander with increased
respect. Truly, the Blackbeard was a fierce ruler and one who must not
be angered; he had the voice of a great gun and the temper of a jaguar.
That other man was lucky to have his head still on his shoulders!
When the camp was made at the edge of the bush and the four comrades
were grouped in their hammocks, Lourenço narrated in detail the
conversation with Umanuh. Knowlton reciprocated with news of what he and
Pedro had seen at the corner of the barred house.
"I almost jumped after him, Rod," he admitted. "Had all I could do to
hold myself. But I knew anything sudden like that might start war right
there, and we wouldn't have a Chinaman's chance of getting away with
him, so I stood fast. But he's here, and old Umanuh's a liar by the
clock if he says otherwise."
"He is the same man we saw in the forest, Lourenço, or my eyes are
twisted," added Pedro.
"Hm! Something very fishy here," commented McKay.
"Very fishy indeed, Capitao," Lourenço echoed. "The man is within call,
yet Umanuh says he is not here. And Umanuh wants us to buy the man. What
is more, he asks if we will pay more than the other Blackbeard. What
other Blackbeard? The man himself has a dark beard, and since we left
headquarters Pedro and I have grown black whiskers, too. Yet Umanuh
cannot mean the crazy man would pay him to stay here, or that either of
us Brazilians would try to buy him. There are no other men with black
beards--except the German woman-stealer; and of course he cannot be the
one."
"No?" Pedro asked, softly.
"No, certainly. Why? Of what were you thinking?"
Pedro's brown eyes twinkled, but he made no answer. He only inhaled a
long puff from his cigarette and looked across the water at the
hairpin-shaped town.
"What about that visiting trip of yours to-night?" McKay asked.
"I wish to see what is in that house with the barred door, Capitao. When
I am curious about such a matter Lourenço always becomes curious, too,
so I shall have to take him with me. If I did not he would say I was
making love to the chief's wives."
"_Por Deus!_ That may be all the barred house holds--the wives of the
chief," guessed Lourenço. "Why waste time and risk death to look into
that place?"
"_Quem nao arrisca nao ganha_, as the coronel would say--he who risks
nothing gains nothing. I feel that we should visit that house. Something
calls me back to it."
Lourenço studied his partner a moment, then nodded slowly. But McKay
interposed decided objection.
"Too dangerous. Also unnecessary. We'll get Rand--if the man is
Rand--through the chief. Your night spying might ruin everything and get
you killed into the bargain. Nothing to gain and all to lose. Stay
here."
Pedro's eyes hardened. But it was Lourenço who answered.
"Capitao, I think we had best do as Pedro says. It is a queer thing and
I cannot explain it, but I have known him to have such ideas in the past
and they have always worked out for the best. He himself does not know
why he does some things--things which look totally foolish and which
often are very dangerous--except that he feels like doing them. Yet I
have never known this foolishness to fail to turn out well. He and I
will go over to-night and see what we may see."
The captain's brows drew together. Flat insubordination! Then he
remembered that these men were not subordinates at all; remembered also
what Coronel Nunes said concerning their ability to get into and out of
dangerous situations. When Knowlton sided with them he capitulated.
"Up in the States we'd say Pedro was 'riding his hunch,'" was the
lieutenant's remark. "And I've known a hunch to bring all kinds of good
luck. Gee! I'd like to go across with you lads myself! But I'm no jungle
expert, especially after dark, and I'd only be in the way. Besides,
we'll sure have to stick here and keep up appearances while you're gone.
How will you get over? There's no way but swimming, and this creek's
probably inhabited by the usual 'gators and snakes and things."
"When one can travel only by swimming, one swims," Pedro smiled. "Leave
that to us, senhores. Now the sun sinks fast and I have hunger. Let us
eat."
Night was at hand. While the whites talked some of the Mayorunas had
quietly slipped away into the bush, seeking whatever fresh meat might be
obtainable without straying too far from camp. Naturally, the hunting
was poor so near an inhabited place, but now the absent men came
stealing back with a few small birds and one monkey. Though the savages
asked nothing and evidently expected nothing from the whites to eke out
this scant provision, the latter opened their meager larders to Tucu,
ordering him to see that every man had at least a few mouthfuls to eat.
Tucu, like a good commander, made no bones of accepting the invitation
for the good of his men. When all hands had stowed away the last meal of
the day the rations were reduced almost to the vanishing point.
"Those miserable whelps over there might have had the decency to give us
a few bites," Knowlton growled, looking at the Red Bone men on the other
bank, who were gorging themselves on meat brought by their women.
"It is quite possible that they intend to give us several bites later
on," Pedro suggested, with a mirthless smile.
"Uh-huh. Shouldn't wonder. But it's also possible that they'll have to
assimilate a few lead pills before chewing us up. Rod, we'll have our
work cut out standing guard to-night. I wouldn't put it past that lying
old Umanuh to try rubbing us out before morning."
"Nor I," concurred McKay. "Only question is whether he dares take a
chance against our guns and against the likelihood that Monitaya will
send other men to investigate our disappearance. Better keep well out of
sight."
As he spoke the last light of day vanished. Stars and a quarter moon
leaped out in the swiftly darkening sky. The small fire of the
expedition threw dim shadows against the poles of the night shelters.
Lights glimmered in the Red Bone huts, and other lights began to streak
across the gloom--the bright little lanterns of fireflies coasting along
the stream. But at the point where the Red Bone night guard lurked no
light shone. They had built no fire, and now they were almost invisible
in the faint moonshine--sinister shadows which even now might be
meditating murder or worse.
Lourenço lounged over to Tucu, who was watching those shadows with a
fixed cat stare, and informed him that until morning a man with a gun
would be always on guard while the rest slept. The Indian grunted
approval. By way of precaution against being killed by his own men, the
Brazilian added the information that later on he and his comrade would
leave the camp and go upstream for a time. At this Tucu's eyes dwelt on
his, veered to the lights of the town, and returned. In them was a
plain, though unspoken, question. The bushman ignored it and strolled
back to his _tambo_.
The moon sailed higher. The animal uproar of early night began to
diminish. The fire, almost buried under slow-burning wood whose acrid
smoke alleviated the insect pests, smoldered dull red. McKay and
Knowlton drew lots for the first sleep, the captain winning and promptly
getting under his net. In the Mayoruna shelter all was dark and silent,
each man sleeping lightly with one hand on a weapon. The two Brazilians
also were out of sight in their hut.
Up and down, a barely distinguishable figure, Knowlton passed slowly
with holster unbuttoned and rifle cocked, eyes turning periodically to
the Red Bone outpost and ears intent to pick any unusual sound out of
the night noise. Gradually the small lights of the town faded out. To
all appearance, sleep had whelmed it for the night. The watchers on the
farther shore stirred a little at times, but the blot they made in the
moonshine remained fixed in the same spot. The only moving things were
the khaki-clad sentinel and the blazing fireflies.
Another hour rolled slowly by. The sentinel stopped and stood at a
corner of the _tambo_. Now was as good a time as any for the Brazilians
to start their perilous reconnaissance. Perhaps they had gone to sleep.
He squinted at their hammocks. Yes, they were occupied. Stepping softly
to the hammock of Pedro, he lifted the net to whisper to the occupant.
Then he stared, dropped the net, and lifted Lourenço's curtain. A soft,
self-derisive chuckle sounded in his throat as he stole out again.
The hammocks were occupied, yes; but only by packs and rifles. Armed
only with machetes, the two bushmen now were--where? He did not even
know when or which way they had gone. Fine sentinel, wasn't he, to let
two full-grown men sneak away right under his nose? And if they could
get out so slick, why couldn't somebody else--a murderous Red Bone, for
instance--get in with equal facility?
Wherefore he became all the more alert. Instead of resuming his slow
pace, he stood quiet at a corner, scrutinizing everything within his
range of vision, listening more intently than ever. Two or three times
he leaned forward and lifted his piece as some splashing noise in the
creek came to him; but each time the cannibal guards on the other bank
also sprang to see what caused the sound, then grunted to one another
and relaxed, so he knew it was made by piscatory or reptilian life. Near
him nothing moved. And the moon sailed on westward, smoothly, steadily
measuring off the silent hours of the night watch.
Then all at once every nerve in him strained toward the back of the
_tambo_. Something was there! He had not heard it--seen it--smelled
it--but he felt it; a nameless thing that did not belong there. With
smooth speed he pivoted, looked, listened. Nothing there.
Motionless, feeling slightly creepy, concealed under the roof corner, he
waited. A sound came--a stealthy sound. Something was creeping in.
Lourenço and Pedro, perhaps? Stooping low, he peered along the ground
under the hammocks.
A man was coming--coming on all-fours like an animal. He was too
stealthy to be either of the Brazilians. Knowlton glimpsed him only
dimly, but he was sure this was no man who belonged here. And now, as on
a previous occasion almost identical in its circumstances, the watchman
acted in accordance with Tim Ryan's General Order Number Thirteen.
In three jumps he was upon the invader. His gun butt crashed down on the
rising head. The other collapsed on the ground.
Swiftly Knowlton snapped a match with his thumb-nail. The sudden flare
half blinded him, but what he saw made him suck in his breath. When the
match went out he turned the senseless body over, drew his pocket
flashlight, stabbed its white ray downward. Then he committed the
unpardonable sin of the army--he dropped his rifle.
Dark haired, dark bearded, streaked with red dye and bleeding slightly
at the nose, at his feet lay the man for whom the indomitable trio had
traveled thousands of miles and dared all the deaths of the jungle--the
Raposa.