Adventure Magazine Cover — page 23: what you’re looking at

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

| Tupahn the Thedderstorm the pair behind me. Pedro, I knew, would give all his care to helping Senhor Tom move quietly, and I could use my eyes and ears altogether for tracking the men ahead. On the soft, watery ground of that low flat the footmarkswere easy enough tofollow. I judged that eight or more men had filed _ through that bush, and the tracks they left behind would have been plain even to a child—that is, a jungle child. Now and then I saw boottprints, but not often. This told me that the girl was walking with most of the men behind her. Nowhere could I find any sign of a scuffle or an attempt by _ her to break away from her new captors. This might mean either that she was not much afraid of them or that she knew any such effort would be useless. The trail wound along in a rambling way, veering around dense or thorny patches of undergrowth—the path of men~—without machetes to cut their way. But it always swung back eastward, and I knew the men were going as straight as they could to their. own little town. Either they were walking fast or they had left the creek earlier than we supposed, for I never got sight or sound of them. For that matter, my own gait was not speedy, for I paused at times to _ listen or to give my companions a chance to gain on me. Senhor Tom was doing splendidly.- Not once did I hear him stumble. As Pedro had said, the explorer was experienced in jungle travel and knew how to put his feet down, and with the pressure of the little stick to guide him he needed no words to make him step right. The couple walked so quietly that twice I waited until Pedro came into sight to make sure that nothing had hap- pened to them. Both times Pedro mo- tioned me onward, and after that I attended only to what was ahead. The ground began to rise and become firm. ‘Then the undergrowth thinned out and the light became more dim. Tall trees, their crowns thickly matted far overhead, towered around me. The trail became harder to follow now, as the tracks of the traveling band became much less plain on the harder dirt. Yet, by keeping keen watch of it, I remained on it until a smell stopped me. 3 It was the odor of wood-smoke, drifting on a little breath of air from some place not far ahead. As I stood quiet, shouting voices Eaunded faintly from a distance, and then % came a sound which might be either the barking of a small dog or the yapping of a toucan. The Indian town was near. Waiting until Pedro again appeared, I gave him a warning signal. He halted at once; and so closely was Senhor Tom at- tending to the movements of the guiding stick that they did not bump. I signed ahead, saw him sniff the air and listen, then come on more carefully; and I resumed my way. Only a few steps farther on I found a path. Here the tracks which I had followed disappeared. But I noted which way they turned on entering that path, observed the direction of the path itself—and then avoided it. Drawing back from it, I sig- naled again to Pedro, then began traveling toward the place to which the path led, though keeping well away from the beaten track. I wanted to reach the town unseen, not to be met on the way by some Indian who might alarm the others and force a fight on us before we could speak. Fight- ing was the last thing we wanted just then. The voices ahead became silent, but the yapping sound continued until it suddenly ended in a shrill yelp. There was no ques- tion now that it was made by.a dog, which had just been kicked by some one tired of his racket. With the ceasing of the animal’s noise all became quiet. Soon the roof of branches before us gave way to open sky, and bright light struck in among the trunks from a space empty of trees. Slipping along between the tall col- | umns, I reached their end. Beyond was a small cleating. In the clearing stood a long house. And that was all I saw—the house. a man, woman, or child—not even the yelp- ing dog—was in sight. Smoke rolled lazily from roof-holes, though, showing that the house was not empty. It was a maloca, or tribal house, and just then every one was inside. While waiting for Pedro and Senhor Tom, I studied the shelter. I had seen the malo- cas of wild men farther south, but not until recently had I been in the Tucuna country, and this tyle of shelter was new tome. In- stead of being circular in shape and walled with logs, it was oblong, with walls of palm- leaves; a place not built for defense, but the sort of house in which peaceable people ought to live. If those flimsy walls meant anything, these Indians were not warriors. Not~ Ss (EC) Eomichoo