Adventure, December 3, 1920 — page 73: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

The Tucandeira had been scouting about between that river and the Huallaga for a big company which intended to apply for a great oil concession there. This he had done until he tired of that region, when he outfitted this boat, hired Indian paddlers, and started on his long journey of more than two thousand miles. As the Indians would go only a certain dis- tance from their homes, he had changed .crews several times, and the last change had been a bad one. At Loreto he had been able to get only two—‘‘bad actors,” as he called them, who carried knives. When he decided to turn southward and explore this region the Loreto men became surly, and the farther they went the uglier they grew. Finally, two days before he met us, they tried to kill him. So after that he had to paddle alone. He did not say what had become of those two cutthroats, and we did not ask. He saw us glance at his revolver, and he laughed, showing a double row of big white teeth. “Say, I like you jiggers!” he said. “You know when not to ask questions. You’ve knocked around some yourselves.” We nodded. Then we told of what we had seen and done here on this wild river. We spoke of caves of vampires where we had been in danger of death; of a crazed Indian woman who lived in a hollow tree and poisoned all who came near it by thorns set. in the ground; of a human ant-eater who lived with a monkey, dug gold, and killed three men who had shot that monkey and would have taken the gold. We told of savages who shrank men’s heads, and of an old Scotchman in armor who had led us into battle against them. We described how we had fought a whole village of drunken cabdoclos in order to free a girl from a cage where she was kept by her brutal father. Last, we spoke of a wonderful voice we had heard singing in the night beside a bay full of fireflies, and how we had found the singer to be a murderess. “T’ll say you gents have had some trip,” said Senhor Locke, “or else you have the finest imaginations I’ve mét up with.” “Do you mean, senhor, that we are liars?” Pedro asked softly. “Ho ho! Not at all, hombre. Loosen up your grip on that rifle. Don’t go on the prod until somebody says something. And let me give you a friendly tip: Start anything with me and I may bite your face plumb off. T’m hasty that ‘way.”’ “Tt would take strong jaws to do that.” “Which same I have.” He grinned again, and a devil danced in his dark eyes. ‘Always pleased to demonstrate.” And he reached his left hand to a bush beside him, put a branch as thick as a finger into his mouth, and bit. Then he spat out a piece of wood. ~ 63 I picked it up. It was cut through as if by a knife. “Rasy!” he laughed. “Try it yourself.” Pedro tried. He stepped over to the same bush and bit the same branch. He bit so hard that I could see the veins in his temples swell. Then he ground his teeth. Finally, angered, he yanked at the bush. “Don’t tear it up by the roots,” the black- bearded man snickered. ‘Don’t chew it, either. Just bite.” Pedro let go, spat out shreds of bush, and rubbed a bleeding lip. The branch was deeply dented, but not bitten off. “Your jaws are better than mine,” he ad- mitted. “Quite so. Let’s see you try this one.” Rising, he stepped over to a tree with low limbs, picked one at the height of mouth, clipped off some leaves with a knife, and set his teeth into the clear space. ‘Then he lifted his feet from the ground and hung there, held up by the grip of his jaws. For a minute or two he stayed in that position before dropping his feet. As he let go he said easily: “Tt’s really harder than the other. your neck muscles too, you see.” “T see,” said Pedro. “And I am not foolish enough to try it. I may want to eat again after a while, and how could I do it with a broken jaw and'‘no teeth? Por Deos, senhor, you can bite like a tucandeira!”’ “T happen to be good at it,” he said, as we turned back toward the canoes. “Probably you have some stunt of your own that would make me look foolish. But it isn’t gun-play, old timer, so don’t— chkk!”’ He choked and stumbled sidewise. I caught a glimpse of something around his neck. Then something fllicked down past my eyes and yanked at my stomach so hard that I fell back- ward. I turned as I fell, trying to put one aa to the ground and draw my machete with the other. But my arms were fastened to my body. I fell flat. Shrill yells sounded. Living bodiés jumped on me. Something warm and heavy struck my head, forced my face into the dirt, and held it there. ‘Sanied down “beside me. myself up, but could not. face upward and looked. Beside me was a naked Indian, lying very quiet. He had been the weight on my head— had sat on it until shot off. I tried to squirm over farther, but the other men holding me forced me down. All I could see was a mass of bush and a big bare foot that stepped within an It gets SHOTS cracked out—six fast shots, followed by clicks of an empty gun. The weight on my head rolled off and I tried to heave So I twisted my . EORNIELOOO© (C@