Adventure Magazine Cover — page 29: what you’re looking at

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

- Tupahn the Thunderstorm which went to the maloca were Senhor Tom’s the feet of the senhorita may not have been in them.”’ I meant, of course, though I did not say so, that after being murdered she had also been stripped of the boots by her killers. Such low brutes would not be likely to throw away new, stout footwear, Pedro scowled as if he had not thought of that. After a few pufts at his cigaret, though, he said: “Perhaps., But Senhor Tom’s feet are rather small. The feet of such men as that one back on the creek are big and flat. I -do not believe his partner—if he had one— would be able to wear Senhor Tom’s boots. Yet the chief reasons why I believe the senhorita lives are because we were not allowed to see the prisoner, and because— ‘I feelin my bones that she is in that maloca.” As he had said at first, they were not good reasons. Yet both of them made us think before answering. To Senhor Tom, the fact that the captives had been kept out of our sight was the important thing. But I, who had known Pedro to uncover strange mat- ters simply because he ‘felt in his bones” that certain things were so, was thoughtful because of the memories of those times. “Tt sure looks mighty queer that the Bat kept his prisoner out of sight,” the explorer grumbled. ‘No reason why he couldn’t have given us a look at him.” “T think there were two reasons,”’ said I. “One was that he thought we would kill the brute. The other was that the pajé stopped him from granting our demands.” Pedro nodded quickly. “‘And that pajzé, as I have said, is at the bottom of it,” he insisted. from the first. He sent those spearmen to block us before he even knew who we were. I heard his orders.” “What were they?” “Vou did not hear? I remember now— you were trying to knock down a roof-pole. He said, ‘More enemies come. Stop them. Take this one away. Be quick.’ ” ‘“‘Then he called the captive an enemy?” asked Senhor Tom. “Why should he call a helpless white girl that? I’m afraid, old man, that you’re all wrong.” “Perhaps,” Pedro said doggedly. “But, right or wrong, senhor, I am going to see that prisoner with my own eyes before I go on to the great river. “By thunder, you’re right that time!” ‘““He opposed us Senhor Tom approved. “We've got to know who and what he—or she—is before we give up. And we’ve got to be up and doing, not sitting here like three bumps on a log. We’d better go on back to our canoe, get aboard, and pull out down-stream as if continuing our search; then land again at a good place and sneak up on the maloca. The Bat—or, more likely, that lousy priest—will send men after us. to be sure we’re gone, of course. So let’s go.” There was more snap in his tones than at any time since we left the tribal house. Hope was alive in him again, even if it lived on very scant food. He flipped away his cigaret-butt and arose. We too stood up. As we got into line again I happened to glance back, and as I did so a head faded out of sight behind a big tree-trunk near by. True enough, we were being trailed and watched by the Bat’s men. Giving the spies no sign that I knew of this, I set my face toward the creek and passed on with my friends. Speaking low, I told them we were under watch, so that they would walk and act in the right man- ner. Not once on our return trip did we look back—not once did we hear a sound from the silent shapes stealing along behind; but we knew they were there, all the way. At the creek we pretended to argue whether we should now go up or down- stream, pointing first one way and then the other. And then, as an excuse for taking both canoes, we feigned to disagree and separate. Senhor Tom and Pedro, in the bow and stern of one, shoved off in angry fashion and, at the mouth of the inlet, turned down-stream. In the other I went up the creek from some distance, then hesi- tated, looked back, scratched my head, ap- peared to change my mind, turned, and paddled fast to overtake my mates. If the spies waited long enough to see me return they probably told their pazé later that I was a fool who did not know his own mind. But we had the canoes. AFTER journeying around several loops in the wandering creek we left the flat land behind and once more entered a stretch of steep sloping banks. A little farther on we found a break in them of where we could slip out of sight. This we. promptly did. And when we had scouted a little in the forest above we made a camp. 23- Comichoo ans