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diff --git a/old/69554-0.txt b/old/69554-0.txt deleted file mode 100644 index 1fd5ba1..0000000 --- a/old/69554-0.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,5613 +0,0 @@ -The Project Gutenberg eBook of The boy explorers in darkest New -Guinea, by Warren H. Miller - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and -most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions -whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms -of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at -www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you -will have to check the laws of the country where you are located before -using this eBook. - -Title: The boy explorers in darkest New Guinea - -Author: Warren H. Miller - -Illustrator: Frank Spradling - -Release Date: December 16, 2022 [eBook #69554] - -Language: English - -Produced by: Tim Lindell, David E. Brown, and the Online Distributed - Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This file was - produced from images generously made available by the - Library of Congress) - -*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE BOY EXPLORERS IN DARKEST -NEW GUINEA *** - - - - - -THE BOY EXPLORERS IN DARKEST NEW GUINEA - -[Illustration] - - -[Illustration: [See page 205 - -ALL THE GENEROUS INSTINCTS OF YOUTH ROSE UP IN HIM AT THE SIGHT, AND -WITHOUT THINKING FURTHER HE RAISED HIS PISTOL AND FIRED AT THE NEAREST -PYGMY] - - - - - _THE BOY EXPLORERS SERIES_ - - THE BOY EXPLORERS - IN - DARKEST NEW GUINEA - - BY - WARREN H. MILLER - - _With Illustrations by_ - FRANK SPRADLING - - [Illustration] - - HARPER & BROTHERS PUBLISHERS - NEW YORK AND LONDON - - - - - THE BOY EXPLORERS IN DARKEST NEW GUINEA - - Copyright, 1921, by Harper & Brothers - Printed in the United States of America - - - - -CONTENTS - - - CHAP. PAGE - - I. ARU 1 - - II. INTO THE JUNGLE 22 - - III. PIRATE VISITATIONS 42 - - IV. NICKY ENCOUNTERS A DEATH ADDER 65 - - V. THE OUTANATAS 83 - - VI. THE CURATOR’S AIR PISTOL 98 - - VII. CASSOWARY CAMP 116 - - VIII. PYGMY LAND 136 - - IX. THE FIGHT AT THE CRATER 160 - - X. CINNABAR MOUNTAIN 177 - - XI. THE FLIGHT TO THE COAST 198 - - XII. THE ESCAPE TO ARU 219 - - - - -ILLUSTRATIONS - - - ALL THE GENEROUS INSTINCTS OF YOUTH ROSE UP - IN HIM AT THE SIGHT, AND WITHOUT THINKING - FURTHER HE RAISED HIS PISTOL AND FIRED - AT THE NEAREST PYGMY _Frontispiece_ - - THE WAY LED BACK THROUGH THE SAME TRAIL - THE NATIVES HAD COME UP ON, THE JUNGLE - PATH WORKING GRADUALLY DOWNWARD TO - THE LAGOON _Facing p._ 96 - - THEN A SHIVER WENT THROUGH THE BIRD, ITS - EYES FLUTTERED CLOSED, AND THE GRIP OF - ITS BILL LOOSENED, WHILE THE BOY TUGGED - HIMSELF FREE ” 132 - - THE PISTOLS BARKED IN UNISON WITH THE HIGH-PITCHED - YELL THAT THE MAN LET OUT ” 226 - - - - -THE BOY EXPLORERS IN DARKEST NEW GUINEA - - - - -THE BOY EXPLORERS IN DARKEST NEW GUINEA - - - - -I - -ARU - - -“Land ho! fellows--yonder to the east. Can you make it out?” - -The two youths beside the tall man who had spoken shaded their eyes -from the tropical glare and searched the cloud banks on the horizon of -the blue Banda Sea. - -“I think I see it, sir,” said Dwight. “Part of those clouds seem to -have faint white lines in them.” - -“I see it!” exclaimed Nicky, peering through his glasses. “It’s -developing out like a camera plate--high, jungly mountains that seem -to be floating in the clouds. I see dark spaces now, with streaks of -sunlight edging the outlines of the hills. Hurrah for Aru!” - -“That’s not Aru; that’s Ke’,” returned the man. “Aru is too low and -flat to be seen yet. It lies to the east of Ke’. Our bungalow is on -Kobror, the southernmost of the Aru Islands; we ought to pass the port -of Dobbo in a few hours.” - -The three white men were standing before a small palm-thatched deck -house which was their home on the Malay proa _Kuching_. Curator Baldwin -of the National Museum was their leader. He was a tall, rangy giant of -a man, his sinewy frame clad in tropical khaki, with the inevitable -puttees of the East accentuating the muscular leanness of his long -legs. One placed him easily--mining engineer or leader of a scientific -field party, captain of his team in college days, most likely, that -commanding sort of man to whom exploration in dangerous out-of-the-way -places is all in the day’s work. - -And the choleric blue eyes that looked a man in the eye from under his -pith helmet, the sunburnt face with its gray mustache and firm chin, -warned the casual stranger that here was the last man in the world to -trifle with. - -The two youths beside him were scarcely less noteworthy. Their -resolute, weather-tanned young faces bespoke the hardy outdoorsmen, of -the same breed, but younger, as the curator. Dwight was tall and spare, -with a keen hatchet face and merry gray-green eyes that twinkled at one -when he talked, yet they could grow hard and cold as ice in time of -peril. Nicky was stout; habitually good-humored, habitually chuckling -over the least joke, and always finding one and making himself the -butt of it on every occasion. They were a great team; always “joshing” -each other, always differing on every conceivable subject, yet devoted -to each other and to the curator, whom they adored as an athlete and -admired as a scientist. For two years they had been his assistants on -expeditions in Africa and in British Guiana. He had picked them for -this trip because of their tried and proven resourcefulness in facing -conditions as they found them in wild lands. As unlike, physically, -as two boys could be, they were alike in one thing--their sturdy -independence of character. Original in everything they did, they copied -no one, neither in their outdoor equipment nor in their ways of living -when in the jungle. - -The Malay proa on which the party was sailing bore the house flag of -the museum floating from the end of her seventy-foot foreyard. In -these days of interisland steamers you will not see so many of her -type, once the most common craft of the Banda Sea. Her sails were huge -mats of palm-fiber; her masts tripods of bamboo; and her body, built -on Ke’ by the greatest boat builders of the Malay Archipelago, was of -hewn logs, doweled together along their edges and secured by ribs of -teak bent in and lashed with rattan to projections on her planks. There -was not an iron nail or a spike in her anywhere, but the curator had -chartered her for the museum’s field expeditions among the islands as -the best ship for the purpose, for her crew of Javanese and Bugis cost -but their rations of rice and fish, with a small wage, and she could -sail anywhere and be repaired at any island with native palm and rattan. - -Over the smooth rollers of the Banda Sea she bowled southward on the -east monsoon, steadily rising the low hills of Aru to the east. By -midafternoon she had come off Dobbo, the principal pearl port of the -Aru Islands, and the captain altered her course slightly, heading for -the coast of Kobror, the wildest of the two great mainlands of Aru. - -Out of the coral reefs that surround the harbor of Dobbo put forth a -long, black canoe. Her crew of naked blacks foamed up the water in -spats of spray with their paddles, singing and shouting as they came. -Up in her high carved prow sat a white man, dressed in the cottons of -the equatorial tropics, with a Japanese-bowl hat sheltering his head -from the sun. He rose and waved them a greeting as his canoe drew near. - -“Proa ahoy! I say, are you there, Baldwin?” he shouted. “I’m going on -to Kobror with you.” - -“Hello, Bentham! That’s fine, old man! Come right aboard and we’ll have -tiffin.... Did you get my letter? These mail steamers only touch Aru -about once in a dog’s age, they tell me. How are you, old new-chum?” -greeted the curator, grasping Bentham’s hand as the canoe shot -alongside and her crew of mop-haired Papuans leaped aboard to mingle -with their own crew. - -“How am I, dea-rr man? My word! Rippin’! Yes, I got your letter, -doncherknow. Have a bungalow for you; I fancy it’s more or less done -in, but it’s out in the jungle, as you wanted,” he replied, shaking -hands heartily. - -“It was mighty good of you, Bentham!” thanked the curator. “We’ll fix -it up and make it our headquarters while down here. We’re stopping on -Kobror a day or so after paradise birds.” - -He turned to introduce Dwight and Nicky, who had been studying Bentham -curiously. The bold, independent swagger of the Australian was written -in every line of his sunburnt face. He was the representative of the -Aru pearl company, the curator had told them, sole white man in a whole -group of islands peopled by native black savages. - -They led the pearl trader to their house on deck, where the Javanese -cook served tiffin. It was a cozy little retreat, about ten feet square -by perhaps six high, and was built of bamboo arches thatched with -palm-leaf attap. Its floor was raised some six inches above the wet -deck by springy bamboo poles laid side by side, and the thatch walls -were lined with fragrant sandalwood boxes, which also served for bunks. - -Bentham was pathetically glad to see them, eager to talk and talk of -the war and the world’s doings, with all the pensive loneliness of a -white man condemned to months and months of existence with no other -associates than Papuan natives and Chinese traders. The curator and -the boys filled him up with news to his heart’s content. Just to hear -their voices in the good old mother tongue once more, to feel their -keen minds sympathetic with his own, was pleasure enough, and Bentham -basked luxuriantly in it. - -“Where to next, after Kobror, Baldwin?” he asked, after a pause in the -flow of news. - -“Dutch New Guinea,” puffed the curator. “That’s our main drive this -time. Our proa sails for there in a day or so.” - -“Dutch New Guinea!” The trader’s face grew suddenly grave. “My word, -man! Have you read Captain Rawling’s report of the British expedition -up the Mimika? Or about the Dutchman, Lorentz’s, dash to peak -Wilhelmina in the Snow Mountains? He’s the only one who has got to -them, so far.” - -“Sure! We’re familiar with all that. But I can say this to you, -Bentham, you being an Australian: the trouble with the British, and -with the Dutch, too, is that they can’t get away from the _safari_ -idea. Get me? Every one of their expeditions failed because of it. -Your Englishman must have his tub and his champagne, his big tents -and heavy camp furniture, his tinned sweetmeats and what not, and it -takes an army of porters to carry it all. He learned the _safari_ idea -in Africa; but it won’t work in New Guinea, because you can neither -move a _safari_ through the jungle nor live off the country with it. -The British were a year and a half on the Mimika, and they never got -within forty miles of the Snow Mountains. It took them five weeks to -cut a _safari_ trail three miles long. All that country, from the -Great Precipice to the sea, is a flat, dense jungle, with the rivers -running through it so swiftly that they are impossible to ascend. They -contented themselves with plane-table surveys made from a clearing in -the jungle, and before long their army of porters died like flies of -beriberi. - -“We are going to try the American idea,” he continued, “going -light--‘pigging it,’ the British call it--but it gets you somewhere. -We’ll take our own light, concentrated foods along, and live off the -country on wallabys and wild pig for fresh meat. There’ll be plenty for -us.” - -“But, man dea-rr--the danger!” objected Bentham. “These Aru niggers, -here, had the fear of God dynamited into them some forty years ago, and -they’ll jolly well never touch a white man again! But it’s different -in Dutch New Guinea. They’re cannibals and head hunters, and most -of them have never even seen a white man. The English territory is -somewhat policed, but, my word! the Dutch have only two small posts -six hundred miles apart on the whole west coast! You’ve heard of the -Tugeri head hunters? Many a time our soldiers have chased them over -the border--where they stay, to raid us again whenever they feel -like it--as jolly a bunch of cannibals as ever cut a throat. And the -pygmies of the mountains! My word! Your little party would be massacred -the first step ashore. What could you do against fifty of them, or a -hundred?” - -“Oh--we’ll manage!” twinkled the curator, mysteriously. - -“Man dea-rr, it’s foolhardiness! Here, let me give you some dynamite -sticks, anyway. It’s plain suicide to go ashore without it. Our -expedition, with its army of porters, was all right--but you!” - -“Say, Bentham, there’s been a war, you know!” laughed the curator, “and -I was in it--lieutenant of a trench-bombing detail. Dynamite is old -stuff, now. I’ve brought a few grenades along, if we have any trouble.” - -“You’ll need ’em for those blighters!” exclaimed Bentham. “So you were -in France, eh?” The regret in his own tones told how keenly it galled -him to have been stuck down here out of it all. The talk went back to -the war again, of which he could never get enough. - -“Yes, we’re going to try a new tack in a new way,” said the curator, -when they got back to the expedition again. “We’re going to land in -that long lagoon at the head of Dorgo Bay. No white men have ever been -in that way. The mountains come right close to shore there, and we -can get on high ground right off and avoid that swampy jungle. Then, -southward along the ridges above the Great Precipice for ours, and -we’ll see what we’ll see.” - -“Well!” said Bentham, shaking his head, “good luck to you! But the -pygmies or the Outanatas will get you sure! You’ll have to wade through -dynamite the whole way!” - -“Oh, we’re not exactly unprepared, you know,” demurred the curator. He -showed him a curious pistol that the boys had often speculated over. It -looked like a foreign automatic, only its barrel was a mere shell of -steel, like a shotgun, and it had no hammer or firing mechanism. - -“I had this made. Sort of shell thrower, you know. It’s rather -effective at moderate ranges--shoots T. N. T. shells. It pays to look -ahead in these expeditions and try to meet conditions as you imagine -them likely to turn out. Force, and plenty of it, is the only thing the -savage really understands, so we’re fixed to defend ourselves if we -have to.” - -Bentham looked relieved. “But suppose you get captured and tied up?” he -questioned. “Those beggars will eat you, sure--like you all the better -if you are white.” - -“I’ve been tied up before. Mundurucus, up the Orinoco. But I didn’t -_stay_ tied long.” - -He twirled a ring on his right hand with his thumb as the others looked -at him questioningly. - -“Picked this up from an old _guru_ up in the Himalayas. Came out of -some Indian palace, most likely. I bet it’s got a history!” He pressed -the monogram of the ring with his thumb tip as they watched. It was all -done with one hand, but out of its base a tiny, two-edged steel knife -stuck up from the base of the monogram. “You twist your wrist, with -that ring knife inside, you see, and you’d be surprised to see how easy -it is to cut a thong around your wrists with it,” he exclaimed. - -Shouts on deck interrupted the boys’ exclamations of astonishment and -brought them running out of the cabin. The mainland of Kobror lay -off not a mile to windward. The crew were tacking ship, and all was -shouting and confusion. - -“I guess we’d better get our outfits ready, boys,” said the curator. -“Call Sadok and Baderoon, so we can muster the party and see that they -have everything.” - -Presently Dwight returned, followed by Sadok and Baderoon. The former -was a hill Dyak, the “star” bird hunter of their party. He came up, -completely armed, with his long sumpitan, or blowgun, of Borneo in -hand, and on his left arm was a conical shield of bamboo. A steel -parang-ihlang hung at his belt, and over his shoulder was suspended -the bamboo quiver of darts for the blowgun. His muscular brown arms -and shoulders glistened in the sunlight which glinted on the gold and -silver threads of his gorgeous chawat and the dull jewels that studded -his jacket. - -“What have you got for a sleeping rig in the jungle, Sadok?” inquired -the curator as the Dyak stood waiting inspection. - -Sadok turned him around, exposing the tightly rolled cadjan, or native -mat, hung on his back. Unrolled, it would be about four feet square, -and it was house, blanket, mattress, and umbrella in one to him, for -one corner of it was sewed into a pocket, so that he could wear the -thing over his head when it rained. - -“You’ll do, Sadok. Mr. Bentham, here, will assign you some black boys -to carry up our stuff when we land. You’ll take charge of them.” - -“A’right, Orang-kaya!” grinned Sadok, and went forward among the crew -again. - -“Baderoon next!” called the curator. “What you-fellah got to take ’long -beach?” - -Baderoon burst into boisterous Papuan merriment and did a handspring -on deck. All he owned in the world was the long bow in his hand and a -string about his middle, with a quiver of arrows dangling from it. His -dress hardly needed taking off at night. There was a brass ring around -one arm, with some tufts of human hair ornamenting it, whose owner had -been eaten long ago--details obscure if you asked Baderoon!--and there -was a three-pronged comb stuck into the long frizzles of his mop of -hair. Then, he wore a small tin mirror hanging by a string from his -nose, and when Baderoon had put on that prized possession he had said -the last word in dandyism! - -“Here, Baderoon-fellah, catch’m blanket!” said the curator, tossing him -a spare one. “And mind you don’t wear it about your neck, the way the -Wanderobos did when the English forbade them to come into town without -a blanket to cover their nakedness!” - -Baderoon exploded in a gust of merriment and tied the blanket -decorously about his waist. At a sign of dismissal he went forward to -rejoin Sadok. The proa was now tacking in through the coral reefs. A -fleet of black canoes came out from the village on shore to meet her. -The paddlers scrambled aboard and immediately surrounded the white men, -pointing and gesticulating with unslaked Papuan curiosity. Their long -noses hooked at them like parrots’ beaks as they cackled boisterously, -fingering freely and unabashed the clothing and equipment of the whites. - -In a final reach the proa ran hard aground on the white sand beach, and -everyone prepared to jump ashore over her bow. - -“So long, for the present, Baldwin,” said Bentham, shaking hands. -“I’ve got some pearl business to attend to here with the chief, and I -sha’n’t see you again. These rotters will carry up your luggage as your -man directs. Send for me if you need anything.” - -He nodded cordially and was off into the village of Wamba, which -straggled along the shore under lines of coco palms. They landed and -went up its one street, followed by a long line of black porters, -each with a single article balanced on his head. The veranda of their -bungalow peeped out of the jungle on a low hillside at the end of the -street. Bamboos hovered over it thickly, their nodding willow-leaved -foliage almost hiding its thatched roof from view. Here all their -outfit was set down and the curator began settling like an old -campaigner. - -The boys sat out on the veranda, looking down on the main street of -Wamba with the keenest interest. The tall peaked gables of the thatch -houses lined both sides of the sandy road. Each house was made of -long bamboo poles, laid up A-shaped like a wedge tent and lashed with -rattan at their tops. Every foot of the street seemed covered with -busy people, for everybody’s business was being transacted out in the -main road, in everyone’s way. There were mop-headed Papuan natives, -strolling around with bundles of sugar cane over their shoulders; -Javanese sailors in their conical straw hats, buying parrots from -turbaned Mohammedan Bugis; Chinese merchants buying sago bread from -more naked natives, who carried it by a yoke and two slings like a -pair of Dutch pails; more Javanese, repairing a proa plank with native -adzes; and a constant stream of Aru hunters and fishermen, coming in -with fowl, trepang, mother-of-pearl shells, birds, and coconut shells -in baskets. For domestic pets there were pigs, kangaroos, goats, tame -bobos (pelicans), and parrots everywhere, wandering at will about the -street or swinging from a perch under the thatch porches. - -Then a native hunter came wandering by, with a spotted cuscus, or -native opossum, hanging by its tail, and him the curator snared, -to buy the specimen from him and engage the man for a guide to the -_blakangtana_, the jungle hinterland, next day. - -Tiring of the noisy scene at length, Dwight went inside and lay down -on a cool rattan lounge, leaving Nicky to help sort collection boxes -with the curator. After reading awhile, he lay down the book with a -sigh of content and looked idly up into the thatch that was thickly -woven through the poles of their roof. Indolently gazing, he noticed a -dark mass overhead, seemingly buried in the thatch. Examining it more -carefully, he could see yellow and black marks, and concluded that it -must be a tortoise shell that some one had left there. But the thing -still fascinated him, and every little while he would look up at it -again, while the others went on with the business of settling the -house. Then a slight rustle in the thatch attracted him, and, gazing up -at it steadily again, it suddenly resolved itself into a large snake, -compactly coiled up in a kind of knot! Dwight’s jaw dropped as he -detected the head and its bright eyes in the very center of the folds. - -“Good Lord, fellows!” he called out, jumping to his feet, “here’s a boa -constrictor, a python!--up in our roof!” - -The curator jumped up the steps of the veranda in a bound. “Where! Show -me him!” he demanded. - -“Right up there!” laughed Dwight, quivering with excitement. “And -making himself at home just as nice as nice!” - -Sadok started to draw his parang, but the curator stopped him. - -“Wait!” he commanded. “We don’t want to spoil his skin.” - -Baderoon came running in. “Me kill’m! Me catch’m tailie! Me kill plenty -snake on Bouru!” he yelled, begging the curator for permission to show -them. - -The latter smiled quietly. “Clear out, boys--and watch the fun!” he -said, picking up the lamp off the table and sweeping a lot of small -things out of the way. “Ever see a native kill a python? I guess the -house will stand it! Go get’m Baderoon-fellah!” - -Baderoon jumped for the rafters, and there was a violent commotion in -the thatch as he dropped down with the tip of the boa’s tail in both -hands. He and Sadok tugged away at it, soon ripping down about ten feet -of the writhing coils, while the others ran laughing for the door. The -commotion inside increased, and then there was a heavy thump and the -crash of chairs and tables upset and flying about, and then Baderoon -emerged, running down the steps with about thirty feet of snake behind -him, twisting and lashing with its thick coils. The python swept -everything with him and made a last stand with its neck hooked about -a veranda post, while the boys yelled and catcalled with glee. Then -Baderoon tore him loose and, running fast, flew with him toward the -jungle, where, stopping suddenly, he snapped the snake’s long body like -a whiplash and smashed his head against a tree. - -“Whee!” yelled Nicky, delightedly, from the veranda. “Me for the next -one! Gee! I’d like to try that stunt!” - -But the python was not nearly dead yet, and he started to squirm off -into the cane. Baderoon was on him like a flash, and, grabbing the -tail, he snapped him against the tree again. Nicky, prancing down -from the veranda, dashed in and fumbled at the writhing coils, to try -it himself; but with a quick twist the powerful tail fastened itself -around his ankle, and a huge, thick loop of the snake rose and curled -itself tight around his waist. The boy gasped, crushed breathless, and -it looked serious for a time as Dwight and the curator rushed down to -the rescue, but suddenly there was a bright flash of steel, and Sadok’s -parang met the next loop coming down over the boy’s head and clove it -nearly in two. - -“Me sorry, Orang-kaya,” said Sadok, as the snake collapsed and Nicky -squirmed free of the aimless coils. “Me spoil’m specimen?” - -“You did just right, Sadok!” said the curator, heartily. “He could have -crushed Nicky to death, even in his last throes--” - -“Him plenty debbil-debbil!” interrupted Baderoon, coming up from -freeing Nicky. “White boy nebber, _nebber_ let snake-fellah catch’m -first! Mus’ run with him-a tailie--fast!” he explained, earnestly. - -“Well,” said the curator, after the Fat One had been guyed to -everybody’s satisfaction, “le’s go in for a look-see. Perhaps some more -interesting creatures are camping out in our bungalow!” - -They explored every nook and cranny of the hut, dislodging a few -kangaroo mice, which were captured and added to the collections after -hilarious chases, but no larger visitors were found, and no poisonous -snakes, rare throughout the archipelago, were discovered. The curator -set the lamp on a table out on the veranda, after supper, and they -sat around it, collecting the rare moths and beetles attracted by its -light. As a nightcap, the brilliant and wonderful clear-winged moth -came fluttering in, and the curator snatched at it avidly with his net. - -“_Cocytia d’urviller!_” he gasped, taking the gorgeous prize from the -net. “Boys, we are in luck! There are not five of these in all the -museums of America! I guess that will be about all for to-night!” - -The party turned in, and long before dawn were awakened by the native -hunter at the veranda steps. Gulping some hot coffee and downing a -rasher of bacon and eggs, they slung on their knapsacks, grabbed their -guns, and followed him to the boat for a trip to the mainland in the -mighty jungles of Aru, where dwelt the great bird of paradise. - - - - -II - -INTO THE JUNGLE - - -The jungle of the mainland of Aru came down to the very water’s edge. A -narrow strip of sandy beach, lined with nodding palms, was strewn with -fallen trees, bare and sun dried, and whole colonies of hermit crabs -on the beach told of the teeming life of tropical nature pushed to -the very verge of the sea. Their party landed from the village key of -old coral growth, and stepped ashore at the end of a native path that -was a mere tunnel through the undergrowth. Never had they seen palms -in such profusion or so tall and magnificent, the bare trunks rising -through lesser growths a hundred feet high, where the great fronds of -leaves spread green umbrellas far overhead. The tree ferns, their first -in this Papuan land, rose feathery and beautiful, with stems thirty -feet high, above which shot up the lacy fronds, giant replicas of our -northern hot-house varieties. The ubiquitous banana was everywhere, -growing wild in the forest, generally in the open glades of pandanus -palms, whose scraggly trees twisted high in the misty air, with spikes -of leaves like century plants at their branch tips. And every now and -then, through the dim vistas of vine and creeper, they could note a -dense thicket where a giant fig tree grew, surrounded by its own forest -of aërial root shoots a hundred feet in diameter. - -Down on the jungle floor scuttled millions of silent hermit crabs, or -great orange-and-red land crabs popped down their holes. One had but -to look an instant to realize that the jungle was alive with lizards, -black, green, and gray, all motionless on limb or root, staring at -the explorers with bright beady eyes--to flash into a green streak of -movement at the first motion to catch them. - -It was early, with the faint light of dawn hardly penetrating the green -depths all about them as they went silently along in single file, -listening to the chorus of bird life in the tree tops. The shrill -scream of lories and parakeets, the hoarse cry of the tree pigeons, -and the incessant chirrup of smaller birds awoke the jungle with the -voices of the bird world. Then the sun shot up in a flaming fire into -the pale tropical heavens, and its rays lit up the glades, showing huge -yellow-and-black spiders on thick ropy webs swung in every open spot, -and gorgeous butterflies in metallic blues and greens sailing through -the sunlit vistas, causing many a stop and chase. - -A cry rang startlingly through the tree tops. “Wawk! Wawk! Wawk!--Wok, -wok wok!” it said, remarkably like the caw of our northern crow. - -The curator stopped and listened, his hand to ear to locate the -direction of the sound. “The great bird of paradise, boys!” he -exclaimed, exultingly. - -“Why, it sounds exactly like a crow flying through our home woods!” -cried Dwight. - -“Sure! It’s the tropical crow. They all belong to the crow family, only -this is what Nature can do with the crow when you give her plenty of -heat and sunlight!” retorted the curator. “There he goes again, off to -the left!” - -“Him go-stop sacaléli tree,” put in Sadok, who had been listening, -fumbling at the cover of his dart quiver. - -“Yes? The sacaléli, the plumage dance,” agreed the curator. “They meet -in some large tree, where the males dance and show off their plumes -before the females. Baderoon, ask’m hunter-fellah if we go catch’m -sacaléli tree, all right,” he said, turning to the negro. - -There were a few grunts between the Papuan and the Aru hunter, who -nodded stolidly and led on. The party quickened their pace as the -path led upward through the hills. Then Sadok stopped and raised his -long ironwood sumpitan. It poised for an instant, pointing up into a -wide-branched bamboo clump, and, before their eyes could pick out the -mark, came the soft plop! of the dart as it left the sumpitan like a -streak of light. Followed the fall of a reddish bird, tumbling down -through the leaves, and Baderoon dashed into the thicket to retrieve -it. He brought back a jewel of fluttering fire in his hands. Of an -intense metallic red, its throat was of deep orange, and from under the -wings jutted out two little fronds of gray aigrettes tipped with broad -bands of lustrous metallic green. - -“The king bird of paradise!” cried the curator, holding the feathered -beauty in his hands and examining it admiringly. “Great business, -Sadok! What a wonderful bird!” - -“Rare, too, isn’t it?” asked Dwight. - -“You’re dead right it is! We’ll be lucky if we get two of them this -expedition!” said the curator. - -Just then Nicky, who had come back from a foray with his hands full -of lizards and crabs, had a flash of inspiration. “Put him on a twig, -quick!” he yelled. “I’ll get a colored photo of him!” - -“Good idea, kid!” smiled the curator. “That will be something new.” - -The bird was alive yet, only partly paralyzed by the poison, and his -eyes were bright and open, and the little tufts on his breast still -erect. He sat quietly on a twig in the sunlight, while Nicky set up a -folding steel tripod and took three color plates as fast as he could -change holders. - -“That’ll be about worth the whole trip to me!” he cried. “Wait till the -director of the Museum sees that print, eh, Mr. Baldwin?” he chuckled. - -The curator grinned indulgently. He loved Nick’s intense enthusiasms, -particularly when they led to something of scientific value. Sadok -wrapped the prize carefully in a cone of pandanus leaf and they started -out again. After about an hour’s travel they came to a high plateau -where the creepers and hanging vines were less abundant and one could -see for some distance under the forest floor. A grove of tall tree -trunks loomed up ahead, with bare, scant-leaved branches. Each had a -sort of leaf hut, built far up in the fork. - -They skirted the grove, silently, the curator explaining how the native -hunters secured paradise birds by lying in wait for them under the -hut, aiming with a blunt-headed arrow at the males during the dance. -Their own hunter paid no attention to the grove, but led on for a -mile farther across the plateau. Then he stopped and pointed up into -the trees. Here was a similar grove, but much smaller, and buried -far deeper in the jungle. Evidently it was his own secret hunting -ground. Grunting a few words to Baderoon, he undid the belt of woven -fiber about his waist and made a loop of it around the tree. Then, -alternately walking up it and shifting the belt, he ascended the bare -trunk to the leaf screen built in its fork, and disappeared. - -“Him stop, go-shoot’m goby-goby,” explained Baderoon in a stage -whisper. “We-fellah go-hide and catch’m spec’men when he drop.” - -They all sought hiding places in the underbrush and waited. After a -time came a distant, “Wawk! Wawk! Wawk!” answered by another bird -farther off in the jungle, and then by still another. Like a flock of -crows calling to the assembly, the boys could hear the paradise birds -gathering. Then, like a flash of shimmering light, a great golden bird, -eighteen inches long, came dropping down from over the tree tops. He -lit in the tree farthest off from the hunter’s, preened himself awhile, -and then lifted up his voice in the call of his kind. An answering cry -heralded the approach of another one, and soon he too dropped down and -joined the other. - -“That’s bad--they’re gathering in the wrong tree,” whispered Nicky to -Dwight, who lay by his side. - -“Wait,” cautioned his chum. “We can shoot and get a few, if worse comes -to worst. I’d far rather get a nest or an egg. There’s not one in any -museum in the world, the curator tells me. Look--there’s a female!” - -Nicky looked up to see a dull, coffee-colored bird perch down quietly -on a near-by branch. The two males at once began to ruffle and preen -their long golden plumes. Peering through his glasses, Dwight could -even see the pale-blue beak, the delicate straw yellow of head and -neck, and the rich, scaly feathers of metallic emerald green on the -throat. From under the wings came the long two-foot plumes of intense -glossy orange-brown color, and they ruffled and spread in the breeze as -the male bird shook them for the admiration of the female. A glorified -crow, a crow raised to the most unimaginable hues of bottled sunlight -and all the vivid splendor of the tropics, was the great bird of -paradise! As Dwight looked, he began to dance, hopping up and down on -the limb, each motion spreading the glorious plumes and letting them -fall like down. His rival was dancing also, and three more males and -another female joined them. - -Dwight crawled over to the curator, who was watching the whole -performance avidly through his glasses. - -“Our native hunter’s out of luck, sir!” he muttered. “He’ll never be -able to hit them from his tree, and if he misses one the whole flock -will fly off. What’ll we do--shoot?” - -“Presently,” whispered the curator. “Go get Nicky, and we’ll each pick -a bird and fire. They may fly over to the hunter’s tree yet, but I can -see that they’re all as suspicious as our own crows. The tree they are -in seems to suit them all right.” - -Another male flew in as he spoke, and the whole tree top was filled -with hopping, flashing flames of golden color, a sight in itself that -was worth traveling many miles to see. Dwight soon returned, with Nicky -crawling behind him, and the three lay and watched the birds, far -overhead. - -“Well, boys, I guess we’d better fire,” said the curator, at length. -“That native may try to shoot from his tree and spoil the whole thing. -Dwight, you pick a female, and Nicky and I will each get one of the -males, and then we’ll do what we can with the other barrel.” - -They raised their guns and were about to shoot, when one of the male -birds silently loosed his hold and came tumbling down! - -“Wait! Sadok!” whispered the curator, restraining them energetically. -“I’d quite forgotten about him and his sumpitan!” Another bird fell. -Somewhere, deep in the jungle, that silent, deadly blowgun in Sadok’s -hands was bringing them down. At long intervals two more birds fell, -and then there was a slight _tock!_ in the branches and they could see -through the glasses the short dart sticking in the bark. The other -birds raised alarmed cries at it and prepared to fly. - -“Now!” cried the curator. “Get a couple of females!” The guns barked -as the startled birds took wing, while two dull-colored hen birds and -another male came tumbling down. Then they all rushed over to pick up -the specimens. - -The native hunter came dropping hurriedly down out of his tree, gave -them one wild look of terror, and bolted incontinently into the forest, -shrieking an unintelligible gibberish as he ran. Baderoon burst into a -yell of laughter and tumbled on the ground with merriment. - -“Now _what_ in the dickens ails _him_?” grinned the curator, looking -after the flying native from the bird in his hand. “Call him back, -Baderoon.” - -“Taboo! _Yow-yowri!_ Bewitched! Debbil-debbil!” gasped Baderoon from -the ground. “Him see plenty debbil-debbil! Bird, he go-dead--no see -um arrow, no hear gun! Him no come back!” he cackled, squirming in an -agony of mirth. - -“Get up, fool! Go catch’m!” ordered the curator, sternly, kicking -the helpless negro to his feet. Baderoon ran off, still howling with -delight. - -“He’ll never catch that coon in ten thousand years!” chuckled Nicky. -“Sadok’s blowgun scared all the hair off his head. But--how are we -going to get out of the jungle without him, though?” - -“We’ll camp right here,” declared the curator. “It’s always home -wherever we are, and there’s lots to do.” - -“All right, and, as I have no camp to make, I’m going to find a nest or -an egg if it takes all day!” declared Nicky. “I haven’t really begun to -study this jungle yet, you know!” - -“Not a bad idea,” agreed the curator, heartily. “Take Sadok along with -you, so that you’ll turn up sometime,” he laughed. “Dwight and I will -make camp and skin out the birds.” - -The grove was an excellent one to camp in, clear and open under the -great trees, and Dwight started his camp at once. Their system was an -original and elastic one, each man for himself, each one eating or -sleeping when and where he pleased. They had long ago discarded the -old-fashioned camp where one man cooked for the crowd and all had to be -in at mealtimes. Such a system was too rigid and conventional for such -diverse tastes and occupations as these three. - -Dwight opened his pack and unlimbered his steel pickax, driving down -into the lava rock with its point to make holes for tent pegs and clear -out rocks on his sleeping site. He chose a spot covered with small -bushes like huckleberries, filled with a windfall of dried leaves. Here -he spread out his sleeping bag, and over it went a light tent fly, on a -rope stretched over two forked stakes. From the rope he hung a mosquito -screen, with a small ring of cane cut in the jungle and bent into a -hoop a foot in diameter, so as to hold the net gauze clear of his -face. This hoop was tied inside the square of net about a foot below -the central peak from which it hung, and the folds of the net draped -over the head of the bag. Dwight’s sleeping bag was waterproof and -insectproof, so that, with the net hung over his face and the fly over -that, forming a sun and rain shade, he was well protected from insects -and wet weather on very little weight--about five pounds all told for -tent and bedding. - -In front of his camp the lad built a small stone fireplace, with a -row of his little food sacks hung handy around it on cross poles. -He set about making a batter of flour, corn meal, dried egg powder, -dried milk, and baking powder, and soon had cooked himself a pile -of flapjacks. With the body of a paradise bird grilling on a forked -stick, and a tin of tea steeping on the hearth, he was as well fed and -comfortable as anywhere else in the world. After lunch he seized his -pickax and went collecting for insects and beetles in the forest, the -sharp pick point digging and prying into the bark of prone trees, where -many a new form of jewel-bodied tropical beetle came to his collection -box. - -The curator had silently melted into the jungle, whence soon appeared -the brown glint of sunlight from the tent fly spread over his hammock. -A great bag of netting enveloped the latter, and it could be drawn in -tight by a string after he had gotten inside. A handful of rockahominy -washed down with a drink from his canteen and a bite of grilled bird -satisfied him for lunch. After skinning out the paradise birds and -hanging them in a row from a line stretched between two trees to keep -them from the ants, he disappeared into the jungle on his favorite -occupation of studying bird life. - -Dwight found a bewildering world of new entomology awaiting him. His -pickax, net, and magnifying glass were busy every moment, and the -boy quivered with excitement, rushing hither and yon through the -jungle, now after a leaf-winged butterfly, which would disappear with -maddening legerdemain; now stooping to watch a fight between two male -_Brenthidæ_, long armored beetles with fighting jaws at the end of a -slender proboscis like a spear; now urged to frantic pursuit of the -rare horned deer fly. The mystery of the leaf-winged butterfly was -solved when he had examined a bush on which it lit more closely. One -of the leaves turned out to be the creature itself, with wings folded, -motionless on the stem, the under surface of its wings so closely -resembling the leaves that only the closest scrutiny could detect the -difference. - -By late afternoon he returned to camp by compass, his box full of new -and wonderful insects. - -“Look at the day’s plunder, Mr. Baldwin!” cried the youth, -enthusiastically. He drew out the cork slabs from his carrying tin, -covered with the heterogenous collection impaled on pins. - -“These horned flies are a real find!” exclaimed the curator, -interestedly, after examining the butterflies and beetles. “They go -to prove a great scientific fact--first propounded as a theory by Mr. -Wallace, the English naturalist--that Aru was once part of New Guinea. -Those little flies can be explained in no other way. Common in New -Guinea, it would be impossible for them to travel the hundred and -fifty miles from the New Guinea coast to Aru. To-morrow, if Nicky does -not come back, we’ll go on a trip to see another curious phenomenon, -the salt-water channels that divide the islands of Aru. They are true -rivers, yet have no flow other than the tide at their mouths. How do -you explain that, Dwight?” - -The boy confessed that he could not. “Come to think of it, sir, these -are the only islands in the world that _have_ such channels,” he cried -out over the novelty of it. - -As Nicky did not put in an appearance that night, they set out next -morning northward, leaving Baderoon to skin out birds in camp. The -curator did not worry over Nicky. In his rucksack the lad had carried -his odd nightgear, of an old bathing suit with the armholes sewed up to -pull over his bed, a pair of extra socks to cover his arms and another -for his feet. So dressing up to go to bed, Nicky would turn in on a -leaf patch, secure from insects and snakes, and, with Sadok to guide -him, would be abundantly able to care for himself. - -After several hours’ travel to the north the going became more rocky -and the vegetation sparse and thorny. Soon open skyline appeared ahead, -and then they came upon the rocky cliffs of basic limestone that border -the south bank of the river Majkor, which separates the Aru mainlands -of Maykor and Kobror. The north bank was high jungle, and up and down -its reaches it was a true river, a deep, narrow channel winding through -the jungle as far as the eye could reach. Yet its waters were salt. - -“That’s really wonderful, sir!” cried Dwight, enthusiastically, when he -had grasped the full significance of it. “Lots of small islands like -England, for instance, have rivers; but they are true rivers, rising in -the mountains somewhere. Others have salt straits dividing them from -the mainland, like Staten Island, at home. This channel can’t be a -fissure, for it winds and turns just like a river. What is Wallace’s -theory, Mr. Baldwin?” he asked, giving it up. - -“The true one, I think,” replied the curator. “The west coast of Aru is -deep water; the east, a shallow pearl sea, clear over to New Guinea. -That sea was undoubtedly formed by gradual subsidence of the sea -bottom. It is only three hundred feet deep; so that would not take long -for geology to accomplish. The coast of New Jersey is rising two feet -a century. At no very distant date, then, New Guinea and Aru were one -big continent, with all the sea between lowlands--very like those that -extend now back from the coast to the Great Precipice over where we are -soon going. The rivers, then, like the Outanata and the Mimika, must -have flowed through those lowlands, and these channels of Aru were part -of them, emptying into the sea on the west coast of Aru. Can’t you see -how important this little trip of ours is, now? This river can tell us -something of the mineralogy of the unexplored interior of New Guinea! -And without our ever going there, for that matter!” - -“Sure it can--if we had a long line and a grappling hook to dredge -with!” said Dwight, practically. - -“We have the former!” smiled the curator, producing out of his rucksack -a hank of strong green Banks line, “and we’ll make a grappling.” - -Near by grew a tree of the Erythina family, its profuse scarlet -blossoms a grand note of color against the gray cliffs. Thousands of -swallows swooped about the latter, and the curator eyed them absorbedly. - -“Eh?” he exclaimed. “Dwight, you cut a length from that Erythina, with -a whorl of branches at one end, and make a grappling, while I go on a -look-see.” - -Dwight drew his pickax and fashioned a wooden grappling hook with its -keen hatchet blade. When he got through the curator had returned from -the cliffs, bearing a gelatinous bird nest. - -“Here is the edible bird nest of China!” he exclaimed. “I heard that -they got them on Aru, as well as in the cliff caves of Borneo. These -banks must be the Aru collecting ground. Ever eat one?” - -“No!” shuddered Dwight. - -“Not half bad. We’ll have this one for dessert, to-day. And now le’s -see that grappling.” - -He bound on the end of the cod line, and they found a dead trunk which -would form a tolerable raft. Dropping the grappling, with a heavy stone -lashed to it, they waited for a short drift, paying out line, and then -began to haul. It soon struck something solid. Pulling it in, a great -frond of fan coral came to the surface, and attached to its roots was -the stone it grew on. The curator cleaned it and examined its structure -avidly. - -“First news of New Guinea!” he chuckled. “This stone formed part of -the river drift, long ago. It is--_slate_!” he barked, joyously. “And -here is a small bit of fossil on one surface. See it? That means coal -measures! It confirms my idea that an island three hundred miles wide -and fourteen hundred miles long _can’t_ be all volcanic, or all coral! -There _must_ be stratified, geological formations in the interior, coal -measures, iron ore--all that civilization needs. Try again!” - -The next two casts brought up sea ferns, with more chunks of limestone -and slate, but the third gave them a yellowish, heavy stone, sandy and -streaked with brown. - -“Ore! Iron ore!” yelled the curator, before even the mud was washed -off it. “Regular li’l’ scientific expedition of our own, eh, Dwight!” - -The boy took the next cast. He brought up a heavy, reddish stone that -the curator examined with the greatest interest. “That’s cinnabar, red -oxide of mercury, unless I miss my guess. It _may_ be red iron ore, but -seems too crystalline for that. We’ll keep this, Dwight, until I can -get back to the bungalow and make some chemical tests.” - -“Is it valuable?” asked the boy, curiously. - -“Very!” replied the curator, abstractedly. He was off on one of his -mental explorations--explorer’s dreams for the future welfare of the -world that come to him who opens up new territory for mankind. His -very silence awakened a strange presentment of wonders to come in the -boy’s mind. Gee! it was great to delve into the world’s secrets, where -no white man had ever been before! He longed for the time for the New -Guinea trip to come. A few days more on Aru, and then--into a wild and -dangerous country, in search of new discoveries that might prove of the -greatest value to the civilized world. It was wonderful to be part of -this expedition! - - - - -III - -PIRATE VISITATIONS - - -Meanwhile Nicky and Sadok had been exploring into the untracked jungle -to the southward. The low hills of Aru grew more rocky, and the rank -jungle gave way to sparse open growth, with rocky soil and wild grass -swales here and there. It was hot, out here in the sun, and their -canteens were in frequent use. Presently a wild brush turkey jumped -from cover and ran cackling and gobbling through the bush growth. He -went like a deer, as Nicky whipped out the Officer’s Colt and fired on -the run. At the same time Sadok’s sumpitan coughed and its dart flashed -across the grass tops. - -“Doubled!” shouted Nicky, as the turkey tumbled and lay kicking -stiffly. They ran out to retrieve it. Only the dart of the sumpitan -stuck in its side. - -“Missed, by hookey!” laughed Nicky at himself. “Judged by Dyak -standards, I’m a mere swine, I suppose. Eh, Sadok? Say, what poison -are you using now?” he exclaimed suddenly. “That turkey fell over like -a shot. The upas-tree stuff takes some time--three hours for a man, -they tell me.” - -Sadok held up the little pot of bamboo for him to smell. “Upas _vine, -Orang-kichil_” (little chief), he explained. “Him different tree. Red -bark. Ver’ quick!” - -“Smells like strychnia to me,” said the boy, wonderingly. “Beats all -how nature has provided a specimen of that family of trees all over the -tropics throughout the world. India, the nux vomica; South America, the -wourali; here, some new one that I don’t know. I’ll ask the curator -some day.” - -They broiled two great steaks from the breast of the turkey for -the midday meal, for the poison from the darts does not reduce the -edibility at all, and Sadok stowed the legs for further food. After -the lunch they set out in a generally southeasterly direction, as -Nicky knew it would bring them at length to another of those odd -channels that divide Aru, and he wanted to see something of Vorkai, -the southernmost island. A large screw pine came in sight. Its almost -bare branches twisted high into the bright sunlight, and the spikes -of daggerlike leaves growing in clusters at the branch tips drew an -exclamation of pleasure from Sadok, for he was nearly out of pandanus -leaf to wrap “spec’mens” in. They went over to it. - -“Hi!” called Nicky. “Look who’s here!” - -A large brown animal was climbing around up near the tops. - -“Tree kangaroo. Get him! The curator will want one!” cried the boy, -drawing his revolver. He aimed carefully, and at the report the animal -flinched, but seemed to maintain its hold in the branches. He fired -again, with the same result. The tree kangaroo now moved sluggishly -toward another branch. - -“Shoot, Sadok! I _must_ have hit him, but he sure can carry a lot of -lead!” - -Sadok raised the blowgun to his lips and held his cupped fist over -his mouth. Filling his lungs, he blew a full breath. The dart soared -up into the tree top and they saw it sticking from the animal’s side. -Presently his limbs grew limp and he partly fell, but his long, hooked -claws caught in the branches and hung. He made no further move. - -“Dead as a mackerel, but I’ll have to swarm up after him!” declared -Nicky, emphatically. He was a fearless climber, and he shinned the -trunk and was soon in the branches. Worming up one of them, he reached -the tree kangaroo. It was like its cousins, the wallaby of New Guinea -and the great gray kangaroo of Australia, but with heavy, coarse fur -and long, hooked claws especially adapted to climbing. - -“Hit him both times, myself,” he called down: “Gorry! but he’s -tenacious of life!” He detached the animal from its hold and dropped -it down. It weighed some sixty pounds. They were an hour skinning it, -after which Sadok put away some of the choicest meat, for he never let -an opportunity for food go by in the jungle. - -Then Nicky spied a great blue butterfly, the _Papilio ulysses_, soaring -through the tops of the screw pine overhead. They set off in hot -pursuit, with the skin of the kangaroo hanging to his belt. - -“Dwight will want this fellow!” urged Nicky, stumbling through thickets -and over stony and coralline ground. Hermit crabs scuttled out of their -way in the underbrush; lizards of every shade streaked across under -their feet, but still the lad kept his eyes on that magnificent prize -which persistently flew high. At length it came down and alighted on a -moist spot in the earth, evidently thirsty. He crept up and dropped his -helmet over the great metallic-blue beauty. - -“Hooray! What a prize for Dwight! How in thunder am I ever going to -carry it, though?” He started to pin it to his helmet, but Sadok shook -his head. - -“Him all tore, in bushes,” he objected. “Me show’m.” Searching the -jungle awhile, he presently came back with a broad, flat cactus leaf -which he was busily paring of thorns as he walked. Then he slit it open -with his kriss and gouged out a recess for the body of the butterfly -in its pulpy interior. Lining it with flat pieces of pandanus, he was -ready for _Papilio ulysses_, who was forthwith spread out, flat winged, -and then securely bound in his green prison with thongs of rattan. - -“Some sandwich!” grinned Nicky as it was slipped into the map pocket -of his rucksack. “Worth about fifty dollars just as it stands! Won’t I -have some fun with old Dwight, with it, though!” - -They abandoned collecting for the time, as the canteens were running -low and water was getting to be a problem unless they expected to live -on what could be poured from the air plants that grew profusely in -the dry jungle. A small ravine running downhill looked promising, and -they climbed down into it. After half a mile it grew swampy, and soon -a small, clear stream of fresh water developed. They were filling the -canteens at the nearest hollow when voices came through the jungle, the -chatter of a child and the deep cackle of an old man, both speaking -Papuan. Sadok and Nicky waited. Presently both appeared, coming down to -the brook. The man was an almost naked, mop-haired Aru native, carrying -a bow and quiver; the pickaninny wore only a string around his fat -middle, and had a tiny bow in his hands. Both jumped and dashed back -into the jungle, with grunts and squeals of fear, at sight of Nicky. - -The latter laughed and called after them reassuringly. Presently the -pickaninny appeared, climbing a sapling trunk like a small tree frog. -He stopped, peering around the trunk at them curiously, his feet dug -into the bark with bunched-up toes, his sinewy little hands wound -around the trunk, while his inquisitive face looked at them with a -half-fearful expression. - -Nicky smiled at him and dug into his pockets. He fished out a small -bag of beads and held out a few of the sparkling trinkets in his palm. -The youngster’s eyes snapped. They could see the old man peering at -them through the underbrush, arrow on bow, afraid to come out at all. - -Nicky beckoned to the boy and motioned to give him some. He finally -descended the tree, and with many advances and retreats ventured out to -clutch the beads in his small paw. Then he dashed back into the jungle, -where a childish yell and the sound of a slap told that the old man had -seized him and rifled him of his beads. - -Nicky called out the pickaninny and gave him more. Then the old man -poked his head out, and Sadok spoke to him in Malay. He knew that -tongue enough to talk, and presently they were exchanging news. With -much coaxing he was finally got out where Nicky could pour him quite a -handful of the green, blue, red, and yellow trinkets. Much impressed, -he jerked his thumb over shoulder and invited them to visit their -village, which, he said, lay a short distance on. - -They followed up what appeared to be something of a trail, and soon the -jungle cleared and a blue arm of the sea lay before them, with a large -island offshore. Nicky took it to be Varkai, but his attention was -soon called to the village itself. It was of two palm huts, built on -piles about seven feet above the ground, and the place was crowded with -natives, most of whom gave one astonished look at Nicky and then bolted -for the jungle. - -The old man called them back, and presently the _orang-kaya_, or chief, -came toward him, holding out his hand for more beads. It was not long -before Nicky was the center of an excited throng of chattering Papuans, -who fingered his clothing and pranced around him with characteristic -native merriment. Nicky was a whole circus in himself, he began to -appreciate. Men, women, and children never seemed to tire of standing -and gazing at him, after which they would usually do a somersault or -roll on the ground with explosions of boisterous laughter. To them he -and his clothes were the funniest thing they had ever looked at. - -As it was growing late, Sadok arranged for a night’s lodgings. A space -about ten by twenty feet at the end of one of the huts was cleared off -and turned over to their use. Here they laid down their few belongings -and sat down on mats to watch the strange life around them. A clay -floor behind a partition served for a fireplace, where Sadok set about -cooking the kangaroo meat. The rest of the hut was jammed with natives -talking and laughing incessantly, only ceasing when their eyes were -fully occupied in staring at him. - -In the midst of it all, a yell, “_Bajak! Bajak!_” (“Pirates! Pirates!”) -arose, and everyone tumbled out of the hut and poured down to the -beach. Great guard fires piled up along shore were lit, and their lurid -glare lighted up the whole scene; the proas of the natives hauled up -on the beach, the warriors dancing along the shore, brandishing their -bows and spears and yelling defiance, and the two huts back a short -distance, with the black wall of the jungle behind them, made a wild -picture that long remained vivid in Nicky’s memory. - -Nicky and Sadok had come down, eager to be in the fray, and it seemed -to the boy that never had he been in so savage a spot on the earth as -in this forgotten corner of Aru, with native warriors around him and a -pirate ship from the New Guinea coast somewhere out there on the sea. - -Presently he made her out a long double proa, or catamaran, with one -big lateen sail; a small lakatoi, with at least fifty warriors in her, -the _orang-kaya_ told him. She came on swiftly, under both paddles and -sails, and, when some fifty yards off the beach, opened fire with the -flash and bang of Singapore muskets loaded with black powder. - -Bows twanged all about Nicky, javelins flew through the air, Sadok’s -sumpitan coughed. Some of the younger warriors turned to run at the -sound of gunfire, but the older men held steady, for their homes and -ships would be plundered if defeated. Nicky drew his revolver and -opened fire in return. The heavy thunder of its .38 special cartridges, -close at hand, made all the warriors near him jump and run, but the -fact of six flashes along shore and the execution it evidently did -among the pirates caused them to stop paddling and haul in sheet as the -lakatoi swung around. - -“Now, then, Sadok, launch one of those proas and after ’em and we’ll -have ’em on the run!” barked Nicky, seizing the psychological moment to -attack. Sadok called on the _orang-kaya_, and he and a dozen warriors -sprang to the nearest proa and launched her, Nicky reloading swiftly. -As she put out for the pirate lakatoi he opened up with a second burst -of pistol shots. The pirate was now making all sail out to sea, the -few flashes from her native muskets showing that most of her crew were -paddling hard away from them. Presently her mat sail came down and -she paddled into the eye of the wind, where their own proa could not -follow. Nicky shot a third burst after them as the range widened out of -bow shot. - -“Gee! the curator told me that New Guinea pirates still attacked the -villages in the wilder part of Aru, but I couldn’t have believed it!” -he muttered to himself. “Now I’ve been in it--and we drove them off! -Must be a fine country we’re going to, what Sadok!” - -“Plenty bad mans ober dere!” agreed Sadok. “Mus’ shoot all time.” - -They picked up a few dead men out of the dark waters. Hideously -streaked with white clay, they wore long white boars’ tusks through -their noses, and had a peculiar breast guard, made of rows of boars’ -tusks one above the other, woven in a kind of net of palm-fiber. A -keen, flat bamboo knife floating in the water gave Nicky a clew as to -the tribe. - -“Tugeri!” he exclaimed. “Head hunters. They were after heads and loot, -Sadok! A sudden attack and a quick getaway is their style. Last year -they appeared suddenly inside the barbed wire of the Dutch fort at -Merauke and decapitated six Javanese and got away before the garrison -could get out after them. We’ll have a time, with either them or the -Outanatas!” - -The proa returned to shore amid the shouts and rejoicings of all the -village capering about the beach. Nicky and Sadok, utterly weary, -retired to their portion of the hut to sleep, after the first burst of -enthusiasm had died down. But the natives made an all-night orgy of it. -Nicky put on his bathing suit headgear and his night socks over his -arms and wrists, and turned in on a palm-fiber mat, while mosquitoes -hummed about him and the noise and shouting and laughter on shore -dulled away in his drowsy ears. - -Next day they bade good-by to the chief. He had a present to make, -it seemed, in return for the white man’s services in repelling their -visitors of the night before. Out of a fetish bag, that held evidently -the treasures of the entire village, he took a parcel carefully wrapped -in cotton. Unwinding it, he drew out the skin of a bird of more than -ordinary interest. Reverently he unwrapped the last of its bindings, -and handed it to Nicky with a smile of grateful pleasure. - -“Gorry!” muttered the boy, as he received the present before the -whole tribe. “If I’m not wrong, that’s the rarest of the rare--the -magnificent bird of paradise! Won’t the curator be tickled, though!” - -It was a small bird, but brilliant in the extreme of plumage. The -head was covered with small, brown, velvety feathers, but back of its -neck arose a fan-shaped ruffle of the most brilliant yellow, backed -by a second fan of intense metallic orange. The whole of the breast -was rich, deep green, in changeable hues of peacock and purple. The -tail was formed of two curved plumes of delicate metallic brown, which -curved in airy spirals--a feathered gem as rich in coloring as the -vividest-hued humming bird, but far larger. - -“The only one!” managed the chief, in Malay, as Nicky bowed his thanks. - -“I’ll bet it is! But two have been found in all New Guinea. This is the -first reported from Aru. Had it long, Chief?” - -“Many years. No more. White man welcome!” grinned the old fellow, -gratefully. - -They bade them all good-by and set out by compass for the neighborhood -of camp. How to find it was something of a poser, but after a morning’s -march the lay of the hills began to seem familiar once more and Sadok -led them in to the very jungle of tall trees where they had first seen -the great birds of paradise. - -Dwight was in camp, and overjoyed at Nicky’s present of the _Papilio -ulysses_, which was so rare a treasure that he at once set about -pouring a plaster-of-Paris mold for it and getting it under glass -without delay. - -“I wish I had a trade-last for you, old scout,” said Dwight as he -mounted the specimen, “but I haven’t. The curator and I have been -mineralogizing since you were gone. We found out a lot about the -interior of New Guinea--” - -“New Guinea!” echoed Nicky, amazedly. - -“Yes, New Guinea,” retorted Dwight, and he told Nicky of the source of -the channels that divide Aru. - -“And didn’t you get a single sea snake, down there?” asked Nicky, -regretfully. “The shallow sea’s full of ’em, all highly venomous, you -know--” - -“I didn’t!” shivered Dwight, recalling the hours they had spent -unprotected on the raft. “That’s more in your line. Real sea serpents, -eh?” - -“Yep. I still believe in the sea serpent,” laughed Nicky. “There are -plenty of small ones among the New Guinea coasts and up the lagoons. -They have a broad, finny tail like an eel, but are true serpents. They -swim up near the surface and live on fish, but have poison fangs just -like many of the land snakes. That’s why I am still convinced that -there may be a larger species, sometimes seen far at sea by ships. They -have been too often reported to be a myth. But these islands are too -dry and rocky for anything but lizards. Where’s the curator gone?” - -“He went after a black cockatoo which came through the grove awhile -ago. I heard his gun recently.” - -A little later the curator returned, carrying a specimen of the great -black cockatoo, a rare find, but it was nothing to his delight over the -magnificent bird of paradise that Nicky sprang on him unawares. - -“Man dear, where did you get _that_!” he yelled, examining it avidly. -“That’s the big prize of the expedition, so far. I guess we can go on -to New Guinea, now!” - -On the next day camp was broken and the party steered out of the -jungle by compass and hunter’s paths, arriving back at the bungalow -by nightfall. The following two days were mighty busy, for Nicky, as -“snakeologist” of the expedition, had a large assortment of reptile -skins to prepare, and the curator, as ornithologist, likewise; and all -of them had to be packed in ant-proof tin receptacles before leaving. -Dwight, as entomologist, mounted his specimens in flat, glass-covered -wooden boxes, which could be packed a dozen at a time in tin cases. - -That evening the curator hunted up the captain and crew of the proa -and they warped her out into the harbor, for they were to sail for -New Guinea the next morning. They all slept aboard once more, and at -dawn stood out of the coral reefs and headed around Kobror for the -hundred-mile run across to the coast of Dutch New Guinea. Two mornings -after, the lofty chain of the Charles Louis Mountains, as the northern -end of the Snow Mountains has been named, jutted out of the sea under -banks of clouds. Navigators have measured the height of these mountains -at six to nine thousand feet, taking observations from the decks of -passing vessels, while the higher peaks of the Snow Mountains to the -south rise to sixteen thousand feet. The mouths of a few rivers in -that country have been noted on the map; but the hinterland remains a -mystery to the world. Even the South and North Poles are better known. - -By afternoon, the mainland had become quite visible, jungly foothills -rising ridge on ridge to the base of the Great Precipice, which -stretches south for two hundred miles, the greatest precipice in the -world. Above it towered the snowy peaks far back in the mainland. They -came to realize how utterly unknown and impenetrable it all is, when -they awoke next morning to find the proa at anchor in a deep bay, with -the jungly mountains all around them and a lagoon thirty miles long -stretching back into the hinterland. Mangrove swamps lined the shore -in an unbroken line. Here and there a dent in them told of the mouth -of a stream. No living human was in sight, but the smoke of signal -fires rose from points along shore, and scouting parties of native -savages could be made out through the glasses already watching them, -swinging through the trees over the mangroves like troops of monkeys. -Now and then a long black canoe, with high carved prow, would cross -the upper lagoon, driven by lines of paddling blacks. The very haste of -them spelled danger, the passing of the word through the villages that -a strange proa was here. A short raid on shore, a few miles into the -jungle at most, unless attempted by a whole regiment of soldiers, would -be certain to end in ambush and murder. As for those dense jungles and -towering mountains back a day’s march into the interior--Unexplored! -Danger! Pygmies! Head hunters! was written all over them! - -They were examining the shore curiously, with a sense of the utter -hopelessness of the undertaking oppressing them, when a huge black -lakatoi, or native catamaran, jutted its prow around the point of a -cape to seaward. Everyone turned to watch it, and with chatterings and -gesticulations the crew sprang to life. - -“Lakatoi, _Orang-kaya_!” sang out Sadok, pointing to seaward. She -towered like a castle out of the sea. A single mast rose out of her -amidships, carrying one long triangular mat sail with deeply incurved -ends. Around the mast was a wooden platform, a sort of fighting deck -with rails around it, and it was held down on the two log canoes which -floated the structure by long bamboo arches like the backs of a -bridge. The lakatoi was crowded with warriors whose spears and bows and -clubs could be made out jutting up through the serried ranks like tiny -black jackstraws. - -“_Bajak! Bajak!_” (“Pirates! Pirates!”) rose the excited yell forward, -and there was a mad scramble of the crew to the waist for weapons. - -“Every lakatoi full of natives is a ‘pirate’ to these beggars,” laughed -the curator. “They’ll probably prove hostile, though. Look to your -guns, boys.” - -“Are you going to use the queer pistol, sir?” asked Dwight, curiously, -slipping a clip of cartridges into the butt of his automatic. - -“Nope. Won’t need to this time,” smiled the curator. “Got to save it -for something worse!” He strolled to the deck house and went inside. - -Dwight and Nicky watched the lakatoi bowling down toward them. The -natives on her were brandishing their bows and spears and did not seem -in the least friendly. Their own crew now lined the rails of the proa, -armed with a motley collection of Singapore muskets, old repeating -rifles of the Spencer vintage, and bows and arrows. They yelled -defiance at the approaching catamaran and were evidently eager for a -fight. - -She came steadily on, while everyone crouched behind the gunwales, -peering at her. At about fifty yards a cloud of arrows sailed from -her and came swishing and singing aboard, striking the deck house and -sticking in the soft planks. Dwight picked up one of them, while the -thunder of black-powder guns roared out from their own ship. The arrow -was of cane, without nock or feathers, a yard long, and had a point of -ebony notched with barbs for a foot back. - -“Outanatas!” he exclaimed. “They mean business. Give it to ’em, Nick!” -They fired their pistols, hoping to add to the number who had already -dropped struggling on the fighting platform. Sadok’s long sumpitan -stuck out over the gunwale, and at every cough from its muzzle a -yelling, arrow-shooting native would grow livid and fall helplessly -among his comrades. Her deck was a shambles, but there were plenty of -them left and she came steadily on. - -A crash shivered the proa from stem to stern as the lakatoi’s high -prows rode up over their gunwale, and twenty blacks leaped aboard, -stabbing with their spears over shields that were hideous with the -carved scrolls of diabolical faces on them. Parangs flashed out among -the crew and a fierce hand-to-hand struggle on deck ensued. The crew -charged at the invaders, led by Sadok, whose whirling parang-ihlang -swung around his head in red flashes that cleft to the bone where they -struck. The boys held off, firing deliberately where a particularly -fierce native seemed to be carrying all before him. On and on came -the boarders in a living black stream, while the air sang with arrows -from those still on the lakatoi. They were outnumbered, three to one. -Slowly the crew gave back in the furious mêlée, the struggling mass -of brown and black men stabbing and cutting in a writhing heap in the -waist. Behind them two tall natives fought toward the masts, armed with -blazing torches to set the sail afire. With a fierce burst of pistol -shots the boys picked them off. - -Then the brown flash of the curator’s long frame leaped out of the deck -house. An arrow pierced his helmet as his arm swept over his head in -the cricketer’s swing. A brown object like a baseball shot over to the -lakatoi, followed by another and another as the arm went on swinging -with incredible swiftness. - -_Brr-aaam! Brr-aam! Brr-aam!_ The detonation was frightful, riving the -lakatoi apart in great splinters of logs and planks as the grenades -exploded. Men, sails, and spars were torn apart in livid flashes of -blinding light. The concussion knocked down the combatants on their -own ship, while a giant, foamy wave leaped out of the sea and engulfed -them, the water falling on the fighting men in the waist like a deluge. -Terror-stricken, the boarders gave back, falling like flies before -the busy parangs, the survivors leaping headlong into the sea. Of the -lakatoi there was nothing left but a mass of floating fragments. In -a moment more it was all over and the crew stood breathing heavily, -looking at the curator with broad grins of delight. - -“Welcome to New Guinea!” laughed the curator, grimly, standing with a -fourth hand grenade in his grip, its firing mechanism still unarmed. -“I guess that will be about all, Captain,” he said to the _jurugan_, -who stood nursing a cut shoulder. “Stop those fellows!” he ordered, for -the guns were beginning to bark again at the survivors of the lakatoi -swimming in the water. “Let ’em get ashore and tell all about it. Ought -to give us quite a rep! How did you make out, boys?” he asked, turning -to them coolly. “This was nothing compared with some of our trench -parties.” - -“Nice souvenir you’ve got, sir!” grinned Nicky, pointing to the long -arrow still sticking in the curator’s helmet. “Dwight and I got off -easy. They didn’t seem to pay much attention to us. Never saw a firearm -before, I suppose. A lot of the crew seem dead or wounded, though, and -I saw Baderoon go down.” - -“Get hold of Sadok, when you can,” ordered the curator. “I see he’s -busy in the waist. And have them bring Baderoon into the deck house.” - -Some of the crew were now cleaning up the waist and others were -hoisting the anchor by its primitive wooden windlass so as to sail the -proa farther up the lagoon. Sadok came up, breathing happily through -his wide Malay nostrils. - -“Me have’m lov’y fight, _Orang-kaya_!” he beamed. “Catch’m three head!” -He grinned, holding up the gory trophies for them to admire. “But you, -_Orang-kaya_!” His eyes looked adoringly at the curator. “White man -debbil-debbil verree strong! Him fight like hell!” - - - - -IV - -NICK ENCOUNTERS A DEATH ADDER - - -Baderoon was carried into the deck house, his long, muscular Papuan -frame livid and limp. His rattan shield and bow were borne by Sadok, -but from his wrist still dangled a long war club captured by him during -the fight. It was of stout ironwood, with a head made of a thick disk -of a stone like jade. The club was ornamented with rows of boars’ tusks -dangling from its handle, alternating with tufts of human hair, and -a stout strap held it to the wrist at its handle. Dwight remembered -having a glimpse of Baderoon crashing valiantly through the pirate -swarm with it, after his arrows were all shot away. - -The curator put some brandy to Baderoon’s lips and the “boy” revived. -The first thing he felt for was the tin mirror in his nose. Finding -this still there, he sank back with a sigh of relief. - -“There! That’s fine!” encouraged the curator, holding up the Papuan’s -woolly head. “You-fellah come good-fellah soon, Baderoon! He’s got -quite a rap on the roof and he’s lost a lot of blood from that arrow -wound where it got torn out during the scrimmage. Get me my first-aid, -quick. He feels a lot better, now that he knows his charm is all -right!” he chuckled. - -Baderoon opened his eyes and an irresistible grin cracked his thick -lips. - -“No _kai-kai_ [eat] me-fellah! _Orang-kaya_ him go _Boom!--Boom!_--All -stop!” he grinned weakly, snapping all his fingers to imitate the -explosion. - -“All right, boy,” beamed the curator. “You-fellah stop, quiet! Will -plenty debbil-debbil your arm,” he warned, producing the antiseptics. -He shot the iodine into the open wound, while Baderoon set his teeth -obediently, enduring the pain as best he could. Then his master wrapped -on the gauze and bandages and hung the arm in a sling, and they all -went out, leaving the native resting easily on a bench, afraid to touch -his bandages under fear of the _orang-kaya’s_ displeasure. - -The proa was bowling along up the lagoon, sailing farther and farther -in behind the Charles Louis Mountains as they looked about them. A -large river flowed in up at the head of the lagoon, they knew, but -the curator had decided to take the first creek mouth that looked -uninhabited on the mountain shore. Not a sign of a village or even a -canoe had they seen, so dense are the mangrove swamps. Finally a dent -in them, at the end of a long valley between two of the mountains, came -in sight. A careful search of the trees around it with the glasses -revealed no more native scouts. The curator judged that they had gotten -up to sparsely inhabited country, and the proa was nosed into a little -bay with the swift, clear water of the creek running into it. With -slack sheet she laid her prow into the mouth of it, the shores slipping -by close at hand. - -He gave the order to go ashore, and, shouldering their packs, Nicky and -Dwight leaped into the jungle, followed by Sadok with a huge crate of -empty collection boxes on his back. Baderoon jumped next, able to walk -now, and carrying nothing but his bow and shield, a borrowed quiver -of arrows, and his captured war club. Then the curator turned to the -_jurugan_. - -“Come back here in three weeks, Captain,” he said. “We’ll be here -waiting for you--or dead. Good-by, all! Nice fight, wasn’t it!” A -flash of grins swept the crew’s faces as he seized his light double -shotgun and jumped for the bank. The proa backed off and soon her sails -filled and she stood down the lagoon, bound for Aru. - -“Well, boys, we’re on our own!” said the curator, cheerfully, joining -the rest of the party. “I reckon we can stay alive for three weeks in -this country! And we ought to have something to tell about when we get -back here. _Paradisea superba_, the superb bird of paradise, is what we -particularly want; also an accurate report on the mineralogy of this -region.” - -They picked their way up over clinking bits of old broken coral, aiming -for the high ground above the source of the stream. Skirting along this -for some distance, they soon found that it was a small, flat table-land -of some ancient coral growth, back of which was the real jungle. The -sparse soil was grown with stunted seaside palms and various species of -ironwood and lignum-vitæ. Through it the stream cut on its way from the -interior. The curator had about decided to establish camp here until -the region could be investigated before going farther, when a cry from -Nicky aroused them. It came from farther upstream. - -“This way, fellows!” it called; “here’s something interesting!” - -They followed the call, to pitch down the coral bank to a small beach -by the stream-side, clear of mangroves. An abandoned outrigger sail -canoe lay hauled up on the shore. The coral flat had protected it from -the moist jungle rot, but its weatherbeaten planks showed that it had -been there for several years. - -“A crocodile slipped into the water as I came down here, and -found--this,” announced Nicky. “It looks like a Ceram or Salwatty boat -to me. See the single mast and the two bamboo outriggers.” - -She was about twenty-five feet long, with a bamboo platform overhanging -the body of the canoe on each side astern, its outer edges guarded -with stout bamboo rails. The body was of flat, hewn planks, built up -on a wide keel hollowed from a single log. The New Guinea boats were -all made of one or more log canoes, hollowed out of a single log, they -knew; this canoe came from Ke’ or Ceram, but of its history there was -not a trace. The sail, of woven cotton, still lay wrapped around its -yards. Two lengths of bamboo, about twenty feet long and six inches -thick, formed the floating outriggers, which were lashed to bow-shaped -hardwood spars notched across the gunwales. All her rattan lashings -were in as good shape as the day she was made. - -An involuntary shiver of apprehension went over the party. Others had -come--and never returned! - -“Some poor devils ventured in here after paradise birds and got eaten, -I presume,” said the curator. “It’s a cinch they never got back! We’ll -adopt her. We may need her some day! Here’s good water and dry ground, -fellows! Let’s camp here and collect within easy distance until we -know the lay of the land. And we’ll all keep together for the present, -boys,” he ordered, meaningly. - -The parangs got busy, and soon a space was cleared in the underbrush -where the two tent flys of the boys and the curator’s hammock could -be swung. Sadok disappeared into the jungle, whence the sound of -his chopper soon came, and presently he returned to camp, bearing a -long green pole of bamboo across his shoulders. This he notched with -footsteps cut above each joint, and the pole was then laid upright in -the fork of a small ironwood tree. Up it the curator climbed, to look -out over the country. - -“That was some look-see, boys!” he announced, coming down from the -pole. “The mountains lie right near us, to the right, with a strip of -deep jungle, about half a mile wide, beginning just beyond this table -of coral land. We’ll have to go through it with compass and parang. -This stream comes down from a notch in the mountains, with some high -grass plateaus shelving out from their sides. It’s a great country, and -I doubt if anyone finds us for a time yet. I did not see a sign of a -hut or a village. It’s safe to collect anywhere on this coral ground, I -think. And there are thunderheads coming over the mountains to the west -right now, so make your tents secure for the night and cook whatever -you’re going to before the rain comes.” - -Nicky did not care to eat just then, so he set out on an exploring -trip. For some distance he poked along, slowly, above the course of the -stream, starting at every rustle of big land crabs scuttling for their -holes in the underbrush. The growth of tangled ironwoods was so thick -that he had to hack with his parang to get even through the thinnest -vistas. He moved slowly along, the thrill of being alone in an unknown -land peopled with savage cannibals putting his nerves on edge. He -recalled stories of how the Outanatas did not eat a man whole, like -the South Sea Islanders, but had a playful way of cutting off a leg -and binding up the stump, saving the man for further feasts while they -ate the leg before his eyes; and how, last year, six Javanese had been -suddenly decapitated by the Tugeri, just inside the barbed wire of the -Dutch fort at Merauke, and how-- - -_Brrrrumm!_--right behind him! It might have been the grunt of a wild -boar: it might have been--anything! Nicky jumped, whirling in the -air, electrified with fear, and landed on his feet with gun cocked -and staring eyes. Nothing whatever was visible. The dense brush was -as silent and inscrutable as the Sphinx. Trying to quiet his pounding -heart, the boy began to turn cautiously around, when--_Brrrruuumm!_ -right behind him again! He whirled about, angry this time, looking with -all his eyes for something to shoot at. - -_Brruum!--Brrumm!_ The sound seemed to come from overhead, and, -looking up, Nicky saw a large air plant, its blatant flowers in showy -profusion--and hovering in front of them was a large tropical humming -bird! - -The revulsion was too great! The boy threw back his head and yelled -with hysterical laughter. - -“Frightened to death by a humming bird!” he whooped. “_Yow-yowri!_ -Well, it’s time I shoved along and accomplished something!” - -He pushed his way through the thickets, defiantly now, hoping that -something _would_ turn up worth shooting at. Presently he came to a -little open glade grown up with saw grass, with a small pond in the -center of it. As he burst through the thicket two animals rose up out -of the grass across the pond and went jumping off, sailing over the -yellow field in long leaps that carried them twenty feet to the bound. -Nicky did not have to be told that they were wallabys, the New Guinea -species of kangaroo. He whipped out his long-barreled Officer’s Model -and poised its fine sights on the rearmost wallaby. He had learned -through long practice that his revolver was as good as a rifle at any -range up to seventy-five yards, if well handled, and he depended on it -for all big game. As the gun barked, the wallaby pitched down, rolling -over and over like a rabbit in the saw grass, its long hind legs -kicking convulsively. The other wallaby soared in a frantic series of -hops, and reached the jungle before the wavering sights of the revolver -could be steadied on it. - -Nicky started to dash through the grass around the pond after his -prize, but the sudden soar of a small animal like a flying squirrel, -but much larger, brought him to a full stop. It had left the topmost -branches of a tall thorn tree on the edge of the jungle and had -volplaned downward in a long flight across the opening. Nicky’s ready -shotgun sprang to shoulder and he covered it in full flight and pulled -trigger. The creature fell into the grass as he blew the smoke from his -barrel and slipped in another shell. A single step forward developed -more life, for a large green grasshopper like a katydid sprang from its -depths, made a short flight, and lit near by. It had a peculiar shield -like a leaf curved backward over its head. Nicky whipped off his helmet -to capture it, for he recognized the great shielded grasshopper of New -Guinea and he knew that Dwight would want it. - -He crept forward stealthily, when his eye was attracted by the bright -flash of orange and black where a medium-sized bird was hopping -from branch to branch in the thicket to his right. One glance at the -quantity of long feathers of an intense orange hue that adorned its -neck told him that it was the rare paradise oriole, closely allied -to the true paradise birds and a specimen of the utmost value to the -curator. - -Nicky raised his gun, embarrassed at all these sudden riches of natural -history that surrounded him. It occurred to him that this little pond -bore all the aspects of the African water hole, in that it attracted -wild life as a sort of center, and that he could spend a long time -right here without beginning to exhaust its possibilities. As the gun -barked the bird fell tumbling through the thicket and the boy reloaded, -wondering what new marvel would develop at his very next step. Then the -grasshopper claimed his attention. It had made another short flight. -This time the helmet scooped him in. He paused a moment to wonder over -the remarkable camouflage that nature had provided for this insect, for -the shield resembled a green leaf so closely that a passing hornet or -bird, which were its chief enemies, would be completely deceived. - -In lieu of a better place to put it, Nicky pinned it on his helmet and -then resolutely trailed through the grass to find the small flying -creature that he had shot, unmindful of the quantities of insects that -he had stirred up, the very number and diversity of which would have -driven Dwight into a frenzy. - -“Must tell the old scout about this!” muttered the boy. “He’d camp -here a week! Ought to be something in my line, too, around this water. -Heigho! What in the dickens is this?” he exclaimed, picking up the -animal. It _looked_ like an opossum, but it had broad furry membranes -extending from fore to hind leg exactly like our own flying squirrel. - -“Flying opossum, by ginger!” cried the boy, for he had of course read -up on all the natural history of New Guinea that is known. He examined -the curious creature with all the sensations of the true naturalist. -It is a far different thing to read of these examples of nature’s -marvelous diversity, than to actually handle and examine the creatures -themselves. Like all but two of New Guinea’s mammals, this was a -marsupial, a reminder of that far time when all of Papua, Australia, -and the adjacent islands connected by the shallow sea was one vast -continent, entirely separated from Asia by deep sea. _Why_ did this -continent evolve marsupials in every form of animal life, even the bear -and the wolf? Here was the counterpart of our flying squirrel, with the -same protective capacity to fly, but a marsupial and by structure most -closely allied to the opossums. It was surely a brave conundrum! - -He retrieved the paradise oriole and started out to the pond again, but -a sharp hiss in the grass stopped him like an electric shock. A black -and mottled snake rose threateningly, with steely tongue quivering from -its mouth. Nicky recoiled, shielding his eyes with his arm, for he -had recognized with a shock of loathing fear the dreaded death adder -of Papua, which can spit poison with considerable accuracy for more -than six feet. He backed off rapidly, watching the snake narrowly, -for he knew that it would attack with great swiftness, blinding his -eyes before striking. Then his shotgun sprang to shoulder as the snake -moved toward him through the grass, and he pulled trigger as its -horned head appeared for an instant over the tubes. Out of the mist of -smoke and the confusion of the recoil Nicky had time to realize but -one thing--that head was still weaving toward him with the speed of -an express train! It would not do to aim the gun again and so expose -his eyes. He turned to fly, dropping his gun and tugging frantically -at his parang. As it flashed from its wooden sheath he made a swift -backhand slash with it, urged by the imminent horror of the snake being -close behind him. He felt the parang’s blade cut bone, and at the same -instant something soft and wet struck the back of his neck and a hot, -irritating pain seared his flesh. Putting up his hand as he ran, he -found his fingers covered with a pale yellow fluid that burnt where -it touched. Nicky stopped at the thicket and faced about. A violent -thrashing of coils in the grass behind him, now flashing up the white -belly, now the mottled back, told him that he had beheaded the adder. -He went back cautiously, for he appreciated now that the borders of -that pond would be alive with snakes. He got to water finally, and -began washing strenuously. The pain still kept up, however, and he -could feel a large blister raising on the skin of his neck. - -“I must get back to camp quickly, where the curator can paint me with -iodine!” he muttered to himself. “What would happen if I should faint -here in the jungle!” - -He found the head of the death adder and wrapped it in his handkerchief -and tied it to his belt. The body was about eight feet long. Dragging -it over to the thicket, he hung it on a bush and then skirted around, -keeping a sharp watch at his feet, and finally came out to the body of -the wallaby. - -It was very like the great gray kangaroo of Australia, but much smaller -and reddish in color. He swung it over his shoulder and retraced his -steps to the thicket. Tying the long body of the adder to his belt, -he pushed for camp. He felt dizzy and weak, and sick at the stomach, -and his neck burnt like a fire. Staggering on, he sought the thinnest -openings in the brush and so unconsciously retraced his steps; but -the briers tore at him and his burden with maddening tenacity and he -steadily grew weaker and weaker. At last the welcome sound of voices -and chopping came to his ears, and with a last burst of endurance he -drove through the thickets and fell forward limply, just over the edge -of their clearing. - -The curator dropped his microscope and notebook and ran over, followed -by Dwight, who had heard his startled exclamation. - -“Man, animal, or reptile?” giggled Dwight, looking down at the odd -huddle of wallaby, snake, and boy that was Nicky. - -“Cut it, and call Sadok and Baderoon! Quick!” snapped the curator, -sharply. “Something has happened to him. Nothing is ever trivial in -this jungle, Dwight!” He pulled off the wallaby as he spoke, and his -eyes fell at once on the red scar on the back of Nicky’s neck. He -examined it carefully, but no sign of fangs was visible. - -“Go get the medicine kit!” he barked, as Dwight left on the run. -Baderoon came up, and his eyes opened as they lit on the body of the -snake. - -“_Koikoim meten!_” he gasped, horror-stricken. “Me go find’m taboo for -him--quick! Boy him die!” He dashed off into the jungle. Sadok bent -over, shaking his head. The snake was unfamiliar to him and he could do -nothing. Dwight returned with the medicine kit and the curator painted -the spot with iodine, but it seemed to have no effect. Nicky was in a -kind of swoon, from which all efforts, even brandy, failed to arouse -him. Faces lengthened as the minutes went by with no improvement. -Finally Baderoon emerged from the jungle, carrying a spray of some kind -of plant. - -“Me find’m taboo!” He grinned cheerfully. He crushed the weed in his -hands and rubbed the juice on the spot, kneading it in and crooning -a wild Papuan chant the while. After some five minutes of it, which -seemed like five weeks to the white men looking on, Nicky opened his -eyes. - -“Gee! I could--write a--fine story--about this!” he sighed, weakly. -“I’ve been conscious all the time,” he went on, more strongly as -Baderoon kept up his vigorous kneading, “but for the life of me I could -not move anything. Seemed to be kind of paralyzed. Baderoon--you’re a -brick!” he cried, grasping the mop-haired Papuan’s horny hand. - -“_Orang-kichil_ [little chief] all right? Me make’m _koikoim_ -debbil-debbil!” he grinned, kneading steadily and applying more of the -pale-green plant juice. - -Nicky told them all about it as he steadily grew stronger, and finally -he sat up and undid the handkerchief holding the snake’s head. “It’s a -fine specimen, all right, though!” he maintained, stoutly. “Baderoon, -you fix’m koikoim’s--isn’t it?--koikoim’s head, and we’ll save the -whole of him for mounting. Me for a sleep for a thousand years!” - -They got Nicky tucked away for the night and his tent fly secured -down strongly like a wedge tent, for great plashes of raindrops were -beginning to fall and the rolling thunder came nearer and nearer down -the mountains. Then came the roar of the rain, and bright, vivid -flashes of lightning rent the twilight. - -Sadok and Baderoon moved their mats under the curator’s hammock fly, -while rain drove in sheets through the tropical night. It was furious -while it lasted, but by eight o’clock the storm had died to distant -mutterings far back in the interior, and a pitch blackness ensued. Then -the stars came out, and in the moist, steaming stillness the camp went -off to sleep for their first night in the New Guinea jungle. - - - - -V - -THE OUTANATAS - - -For the next few days the water hole became a star collecting ground -for the entire expedition. Nicky was laid up a day in camp, recovering -from the effects of the death adder’s poison, but he soon came to haunt -the pond, for it and the stream that flowed past their camp were his -main reliance for abundance of reptilian life. - -“Here’s where we make the main collection, fellows,” said the curator, -as he and Sadok came back to their temporary headquarters loaded -with curious hook-billed Macrorhina kingfishers, magnificent crowned -pigeons, Manucodia starlings of brilliant hues of plumage, blue -flycatcher wrens, and many other species of the abundant bird life of -New Guinea. - -“We’ll fill the main collection crates with a representative collection -in all four divisions of natural history. That will leave us free to -concentrate on the rarer varieties during the exploration trip,” he -continued. “I vote we have a pig hunt to-morrow. Baderoon tells me he -has discovered plentiful rootings down in that mass of high jungle that -separates us from the mountain chain. We ought to lay in some fresh -meat and cure some bacon before starting into the interior.” - -“Me for the hogfest!” crowed Nicky. “I’ve about nailed every lizard, -tree frog, and snakelet in this vicinity. What ammunition shall we use, -sir?” - -“For wild boar I’m inclined to the solid ounce ball in a twelve-gauge -shotgun,” grinned the curator. “It’s the only thing that will stop ’em -at close range. Beats a high-power rifle all hollow, for it knocks ’em -down to stay. I brought along some shells loaded with three-quarter -ounce ball for our twenty-gauges, and we’ll serve ’em out to-morrow.” - -On the next day the pig hunt was started. The wild pig of New Guinea, -_Sus papuana_, is in several respects peculiar to himself. Armed with -those long tusks that the natives use for nose ornaments and breast -shields, he is wild, long legged, and speedy as a deer. He has the -typical Asiatic screw tail, in place of the long straight one of the -wild boar of Europe, but is almost hairless and provided with thick -horny shoulder plates under the skin that will turn almost any bullet. -Like all pigs, he fights well when cornered, is very tenacious of life, -and attacks with a slashing charge of his tusks, attempting to upset -a man with his momentum and then turn and rend out his ribs with a -powerful stroke of the long, sharp tushes. - -Baderoon and Sadok disappeared into the jungle to get above their -feeding ground and act as beaters, while the curator and the boys took -up vantage points a short distance back from the creek in the swampy -bottoms. - -Dwight soon found himself alone under the tall foliage, with vines and -creepers crisscrossing in front of him and dense undergrowth, making -it impossible to see thirty feet away, all around him. Great, slippery -roots buttressed out from the tree trunks, crawling over the muddy soil -like alligator backs. Nicky and the curator were farther on down the -creek, both as silent as the grave, for it was essential to make no -noise. Dwight realized that he had been given the post of honor this -time, and that it would be he who would bear the brunt of the charge. -In spite of himself he found himself shivering with excitement, -opening his gun to peer at the shells, setting the safety on and off, -and otherwise betraying symptoms that looked very like fear. He had -never hunted wild boar before, and he found himself wishing that he had -a bayonet or a spear or something to defend himself at close quarters. -As it was, he would have to depend entirely on steady nerves and a -well-placed bullet. - -Then, far up the jungle, he heard the distant noises of the infernal -din that Sadok and Baderoon were making, yelling and beating with their -spears on their shields. It was followed presently by faint squeals, -and later he could hear the grunts, it seemed, of a whole drove of -wild boars. They were coming like the wind, the undergrowth crackling -under their hoofs, vines tearing and ripping and carrying away bush -growth, and then the jungle floor fairly shook, as if locomotives were -thundering down on him. - -A swishing and waving in the undergrowth showed him that they would -pass him about thirty yards off, between him and the creek. Dwight -sternly repressed an impulse to hang back and let them go by. To see -clearly to shoot, he would have to run forward and plant himself nearly -in their path. - -“Don’t be a coward! _Into_ this, you boob!” he swore at himself, as -he drove forward through the tangle of jungle growth. He ran out on a -great prone trunk and peered into the moving bushes. They were going -by, grunting and squealing with mixed terror and anger--five of them, -and two great big fellows, with long, wicked ivory tushes curling -around their snouts. Dwight raised the twenty-bore, followed along back -of the shoulder of the nearest, and fired. Instantly a bawl of pain -and rage went up as the boar stopped, whirling about a broken foreleg -and looking about him red eyed with rage. The rest went thundering on, -and a boom from the curator’s gun rang through the jungle. Dwight’s -boar spied him and came hitching toward him on three legs, grunting his -rage. The boy had opened his gun to slip in another shell, so eager was -he to have plenty of shots. In an electric shock of realization, he saw -that he had not time to do anything of the sort. Hastily snapping it -shut, he drew a wavering bead and fired again. The ball hit somewhere -in the shoulder and glanced off, but it put the boar in a frightful -rage. He charged the log with a red glare in his eyes and leaped up, -his tusks sweeping the upper surface of it. Dwight leaped off and -reloaded frantically in the brief breathing space left him. With a leap -like a deer, the boar went over the trunk, while Dwight fired both -barrels full into his head at six feet, and then turned and dashed into -the jungle. A great vine caught under his armpits as the boy crashed -into it, and it laid him sprawling in the thick bush growth. He wormed -through it desperately, and reloaded, wondering all the time why he had -not been gored and trampled to death. His heart pounded so that its -rapid beats were audible as he opened his mouth to breathe. Then he -realized that the boar had not followed, and, plucking up courage, he -stole back to look. - -There lay the boar, threshing feebly about beside the log, his life -slowly ebbing away. Dwight watched him, afraid to come nearer, scarce -daring to hope that he had won. A final convulsion, and the boar seemed -to go to sleep as he gave a last little sigh and stretched his great -head out on the jungle. - -“Whoops! I’ve got him!” yelled Dwight, stepping nearer to prod at the -carcass with his gun barrels. - -“Had a fat time with him, too, judging by the noise!” laughed the -curator’s voice. “I got one, too--nice pig.” - -Dwight remembered that the curator had fired but one shot--coolly -and carefully placed, no doubt, but he was not ashamed. He had done -well, for his first try! Nicky had not fired at all, for the rest of -the drove had swerved and crossed the creek in a splash at the two -gunshots. He and the curator came over to look at his trophy. - -“Ought to cut out those and wear them in your nose, to be really -fashionable in New Guinea, Dwight!” laughed Nicky, pointing to the -razor-sharp tushes. “I was just coming over to lend a hand to help the -curator up a tree when he fired, and the rest of the family beat it -across the creek. Out o’ luck, as usual!” he grinned, cheerfully. - -After a time Sadok and Baderoon came up and set about butchering the -two pigs. The bacon flitches and hams from them were cured over a smoke -rack during the next two days, while the party dined on fresh liver, -and, later, pork chops, after the game had hung for a day. - -On the third morning the whole party left camp with two days’ -provisions, to make a first exploration of the table-lands back in -the mountains. They steered across the jungle by compass, Sadok and -Baderoon clearing the way with their parangs. Then the ground began to -rise, and slowly they worked up from the wild profusion of equatorial -jungle into the more arid growths of the mountain side. The going -became easier, as on all high ground, and the nature of the wild life -and vegetation began to change. New insects and birds became numerous, -and their progress was slow because nearly all of them were wanted for -the collections, and the curator knew from long experience that the -time to take a specimen was when you saw him, for you might not get -another. - -By midafternoon they had reached the plateaus near the notch in the -mountains, and here they encountered their brook again. But what a -different stream from the smooth, deep, jungly creek flowing silently -down below through overhanging arches of vines and creepers! Here its -bed was wide and pebbly as any northern stream, the creek following -the deepest parts, with dry bars of pebbles scoured clean by former -freshets. Wild trees of the coffee and Euphorbia families, thorns, and -acacias dotted the stream banks. It was hot up here, but dry, and -a pleasant place to live in. The curator was examining the pebbles -eagerly, to get some idea of the rock formations of the mountains, -when Sadok whistled softly and pointed upstream. A party of tall black -natives was threading through the forest, and their leaders were -already splashing across the stream bed! They stopped instantly as they -spied the khaki helmets of the explorers, and more warriors joined -them. It was a war party, as they could tell by the white-streaked -faces, the weapons they carried, and the white breastplates of boars’ -tusks that they had seen in museums before. - -“Outanatas,” said the curator, quietly, as their party drew together -for support. “We’ll stand right here and watch what they do.” - -The tall, slender, mop-haired savages splashed through the creek, about -twenty-five of them in the party, and they were armed with spears, -bows, and clubs. Each man had a shield on his left arm, made of some -tough wood, carved in red and white scrolls. They shouted and yelled -at the curator’s party as they bunched together on the strand of the -creek, and then came running swiftly down the pebbly drift, their long -skinny legs shining with white amulets of sea shells. - -“Holler, ‘Friends!’ at them, Baderoon-boy,” said the curator as they -came nearer, hesitating and staring at the white men. - -“_Muana komia!_” cried Baderoon, dropping his bow and shield in sign of -amity. - -The natives yelled. Whether it was friendly or derisive they could -not tell. Then they formed in an irregular line and began a war dance -toward the party. - -“They’re showing off, I think,” declared the curator. “If they meant -war, every man jack of them would have melted into the jungle and be -shooting at us by now. Still, we’d better be on our guard.” - -He dug into a flap pocket of his belt and took out a trench grenade, -while the boys loosened their revolver flaps cautiously, their shotguns -hanging loosely in their arms. Sadok reached for his parang, but the -curator stopped him. - -“Not yet, Sadok; we can’t make the first hostile move. I’ll give an -order if I think they’re getting dangerous.” - -The natives came on, yelling and dancing. Most of them wore long white -boars’ tusks through the nose and curving up around their cheeks, -giving them a singularly fierce aspect. Some had white shell combs -dangling low over their foreheads, and nearly all wore a collection of -white shell rings hanging in their ears. They brandished their spears -and clubs as they advanced and retreated, going through the pantomime -of mimic warfare. They made diabolical faces and thrust out red tongues -at the explorers as they came closer, but whether it was war or peace -even Baderoon could not tell them. - -The boys watched the war dance, striving to quiet the shivers of -apprehension that _would_ persist in rising. It was harder to bear -there than any amount of fighting, and they had much preferred standing -off any number of natives well hidden in the bush. - -At about fifteen yards off, the line of natives had worked themselves -into furious action, stabbing with their spears at the air, the rows of -hideous shields dancing like evil genii from some other world. As more -of them spread out on each flank, a guttural shout came from one of the -tallest. - -“Shoot, _Orang_!” shrieked Baderoon, but he was too late! From behind -each native’s shield swung a black arm holding a short stick of bamboo. -They swept forward like flails, and instantly the air was filled with -blinding fine sand and ash dust. It closed their eyes with the acrid, -cutting particles, and involuntarily their arms went up to shield their -faces, while guns went off aimlessly. Sadok flashed out his parang in -the cloud, and the curator jumped back to throw his bomb, but there -was no room to use it. The natives closed in on them in a whirlwind -of grabbing, skinny arms. Dwight saw stars as a club descended on his -helmet, and everything went white before him. He was dimly conscious of -a last impression of Sadok standing off three of them with his parang, -and the curator buffeting his way through the shields toward him with -bare fists, when his senses left him.... - -When he came to he was lying on the ground with his arms tightly -bound behind him. Nicky and the curator were sitting up, also tied, -and beyond them was Sadok, his head covered with blood where they had -clubbed him. An occasional suppressed groan came from Baderoon; only -themselves could understand the agony he was enduring, with his wounded -arm ruthlessly trussed up like their own. - -The Outanatas were chattering and arguing around them. Finally a long -rope was brought and the captives tied together, a loop of it in a -single knot around each of their necks, so that any attempt to escape -would bring it tight. Then they were all dragged to their feet and -formed in a line, with a double file of natives on each side, and the -party set off through the jungle. - -The way led back through the same trail the natives had come up on, -the jungle path working gradually down toward the lagoon. The boys did -little talking, for it seemed to make their captors angry, but they -had plenty of time to think as they marched along. Dwight noted that -the curator still carried his queer pistol, and their own were in the -holsters yet, for the natives had dropped the flaps in disgust at the -first sight of steel. Their shotguns were being carried by a couple -of natives, each holding it with a wad of moss in his hand to protect -it from the touch of steel, against which they had a taboo. Sadok’s -sumpitan, with its spear blade lashed to its muzzle like a spear, they -could understand, and his parang and Nicky’s were in the hands of their -captors. They evidently respected these as real weapons of war, as they -also did Baderoon’s bows and arrows and both the shields, for these -were being carried along as trophies. - -[Illustration: THE WAY LED BACK THROUGH THE SAME TRAIL THE NATIVES HAD -COME UP ON, THE JUNGLE PATH WORKING GRADUALLY DOWNWARD TO THE LAGOON] - -By nightfall the trail pitched suddenly downward toward the lagoon, and -the warriors raised their voices in an exulting chant. It was answered -by the deep boom of war drums, and presently they came down to a native -village on the shore of the lagoon. The mangroves had been cleared away -here, and on the beach were some twenty long black canoes, hauled up, -their high carved prows looming darkly against the glassy surface of -the waters, greenish orange in the dying hues of twilight. - -The huts of the village were of bamboo, arched up from ground to ground -over a stout ridge pole, and thatched with palm attap. An excited crowd -of native men gathered around their party, while the warriors went on -singing and dancing, telling in vigorous pantomime the story of their -capture. There seemed to be no central chief, but some of the older and -more powerful warriors at length came to some sort of agreement, and -they were all thrust into an empty hut, the men who had captured their -weapons claiming the duty of being guards. - -The explorers sat watchful on the clean sand floor of the hut, with -their guards standing in the doorway. A great fire was started out in -front, and they could see even the women and children, now, venturing -from the huts. Log after log was piled on the fire, and then pairs of -natives passed the door, carrying between them huge, rounded stones. -One after another these were laid on the fire, and gradually they -became red hot underneath, while the upper surfaces were smooth and -sooty in the licking flames. - -“Prenty bad!” whispered Baderoon in the curator’s ear. “Fire dance! -Make you-fellah hopp’m on rock till he cook you’ foots. Den dey -_kai-kai_ dat foots. Leg, he stop, ’til next time. All _kai-kai_ some -day.” - -It was time to act! The curator shifted his trick ring with his thumb -and opened the catch when it came inside his palm. His fingers closed -around his right wrist and sought the binding of twisted pandanus leaf. -A steady scratch-scratching of the little blade in the ring on the leaf -fiber went on, while their guards looked out the door, watching the -preparations. - - - - -VI - -THE CURATOR’S AIR PISTOL - - -The flickering red lights from the dying flames of the fire lit up the -walls of the hut as the curator sat, free, with his hands still behind -him, considering what to do next. The fiery glow of embers under the -hot stones urged him to speedy action, for already the tom-toms of -trumpet-shaped Papuan war drums and the whang of stringed instruments -had struck up. The natives were yelling for the first prisoner to be -brought out. He did not propose that their party should go on stumps -for the rest of their lives. - -He reached carefully for the hunting knife in his belt, and, leaning up -against Baderoon, his arm slipped behind him and cut his thongs. Then -the knife was passed on, and Baderoon freed Sadok. The three silently -arose and crept toward the guards leaning out the door. Fingers moved -stealthily for their necks, while the boys watched them tensely. With -a sudden pounce, both guards were seized and dragged within the hut -without a sound. Sadok was strong as a gorilla, and his man soon ceased -to struggle. The curator and Baderoon had more trouble with theirs, for -the black had only one good arm, but the guard was finally subdued, -gagged, and tied after a silent tussle in which all three joined. Then -the boys were freed, and Sadok jumped for his sumpitan, parang, and -kriss, which leaned up against the walls of the hut. - -“This way--quick now!” hissed the curator, pointing to the blank rear -wall of the hut. Sadok ripped a door in it with his kriss, while the -curator drew his pistol, inserted a small metal cylinder in its breech, -and shoved down hard with the muzzle of the weapon on an abandoned -shield of the guards. A crinkly noise like a spring came from within -it, and he smiled grimly and replaced the pistol in its holster. Then -they all crept out through the back wall into the dark jungle, Baderoon -helping himself liberally to weapons as he left. - -Dwight, tingling with excitement, automatic in hand, crawled along on -all-fours behind the curator, who followed Sadok, and so they worked -steadily toward the beach over the thick, soft duff. At length the -last of the line of canoes, close to the boundary of mangroves, rose up -ahead, and, one by one, they crawled around both sides of it, keeping -below the gunwale out of sight. The lurid glow of the fire was behind -them, and, silhouetted against it were circles of mop-haired savages, -singing in unison with the beat of the drums, the warriors dancing -around the fire. - -Quietly they rose and lifted the bow of the long boat. Her stern was -afloat and she gave easily, but it took their combined strength to -shove her out. At last she floated, and they all got in, Sadok giving -her a last artful shove that sent her silently around the end of the -mangroves and out of sight. They groped for paddles, dipped them -noiselessly, and stole along, close to shore, not even a ripple coming -from her prow. The noise behind them grew gradually more indistinct, -until the rhythmical dub-dub of the drums alone reached them. - -“Whoosh!” sighed Nicky, at last, and it seemed he had been holding his -breath for a week. “Some getaway! But it’s about time those beggars -went for their lunch, though!” he observed, facetiously, while his -powerful shoulders swept the paddle easily. “‘My--word!’ as Bentham -would say, but I don’t fancy being fried on stones for these heathen! -I’ve contributed too many blankets and things to missionary boxes--and -I want my money back!” he laughed. - -“Quiet!” ordered the curator, sternly. “This show isn’t over yet, and -there may be scouts along shore. We’ve got to make time!” - -They bent to the paddles, driving the heavy canoe along down the shore -of the lagoon. Fifteen tense minutes passed, while black palm fronds -and ragged banana leaves swept by overhead past the stars. They had put -nearly a mile between them and the landing when-- - -“Hist!” called the curator, stopping his paddle suddenly. - -A riot of excited yells came faintly through the jungle. - -“They’re wise! Hep, boys! _hep!_” They drove the canoe along as fast -as she could be made to go. She needed at least ten paddlers to get -any real speed out of her, and the boys realized that there would be -more doings this night! A clearer burst of sounds told that the natives -had come down to the beach and discovered their missing canoe. Then -torches glared out over the black, glassy water, and presently a fleet -of canoes set out, each with a blazing brand flaming on its prow. Some -of them set out across the lagoon, others went upstream, and eight -started down the shore, moving abreast and covering the water far out. -Nothing could escape them! - -“Make for the open, Sadok!” called the curator over his shoulder to the -Dyak, who was stern paddle. “We haven’t a chance here, but we might get -by them out beyond the last one out there.” - -They drove the canoe out on the broad bosom of the lagoon, the lights -from the eight flares streaming across the water to them in long red -pencils, and it seemed incredible that they were not seen already. The -curator, however, knew better the actual range of a flare visible from -the eyes of a man in the boat with it, for he had tried it before, -jacking deer. The lights came steadily on, yells and whoops blaring -over the waters. The canoes soon passed them, in a long, straggly line -between them and the shore. - -They stopped their own boat and watched their pursuers. - -“Gee! it’s a clean escape!” exulted Dwight, “and we’re bows on, so it’s -impossible to see us--” The enthusiasm in his voice trailed off as they -all paused, holding their breaths, to watch the flare on the nearest -canoe. It seemed to be parting in two and the second light grew to a -long flame. Then it suddenly rose in a high, curving arc as a flaming -javelin went up like a rocket. A weird glare lit up the water far and -wide. - -“Clever stunt! Those savages are sure resourceful, I’ll say!” admired -the curator. “We’re _it_, all right!” - -A babel of yells arose from the nearest canoe as he spoke, and her -light began to move out toward them, the flashes of her paddles -winking like swiftly waving bars of light. The other canoes changed -course likewise, and the whole pack fanned out in a sort of V, with -the nearest canoe leading. A second flaming javelin soared into the -night and lit up the waters. Diabolical war whoops burst out from all -the canoes this time, and amid exulting yells a few long-range, roving -arrows fell into the lagoon around them. - -“Don’t anybody shoot, except Sadok, until I say the word!” gritted the -curator, “and I want you boys to call me eighty yards as near as you -can judge it when that canoe comes that near!” - -Arrows from the nearest boat now began to whistle overhead and fall -into the bay with a sharp _chrrp!_ like quenching hot iron. - -“Eighty yards, I think, sir,” whispered Dwight a few moments later as -he peered over the gunwale. - -“Just about,” muttered the curator, aiming his pistol carefully over -braced knees. A sharp _kjkrrr!_ came from the weapon as he pulled -trigger. A tiny spark swept in a flat trajectory over to the canoe, -and then, like detonation of thunder close at hand, came a stunning -report and the white, blinding glare of the explosion of a shell. The -flash gave them one tremendous, significant glimpse of flying splinters -and the cannibal canoe doubling up like a broken stick--and then came -pitchy, inky darkness, followed by the shouts of the savages swimming -in the water and the roar of a wave rolling swiftly toward them which -rocked their canoe to her beam ends. - -“Gad! I hate to shoot up these beggars, even if they are cannibals bent -on dining off us!” exclaimed the curator, reloading. “Hope they’re -mostly scared to death! This second shell ought to do it.” - -He steadied the pistol on his knees and aimed at the second canoe, -swooping down on them, the cannibals yelling and discharging flights of -arrows into the night. Again the blinding white flash and the terrific -report. The curator had aimed it so as not to hit the canoe directly, -and they saw a wave rise in front of her which engulfed the canoe and -put her crew powerless in the water. - -But the others came right on, regardless. “Paddle, boys! Make it quick -and snappy! They’re closing in on us! Once more ought to knock the -fight out of them!” He reloaded hurriedly and fired at the third canoe, -the shell exploding in midair right over it. The shouts from five -canoefuls of bloodthirsty cannibals surrounding them, foaming up the -water with their furious paddles, filled the night with pandemonium. -Their situation looked desperate now, for the Outanatas seemed -determined upon their recapture and they had lost some of their fear of -the curator’s shells. - -“Fire, boys! for all you’re worth--I’ll give you light!” he yelled, -whipping out his flashlight. “Hold it, Baderoon!” he ordered, as the -rays from its parabolic reflector shot over the water. - -The automatics began to bark, while the negro crouched behind the -gunwales, shivering with fear, yet holding the light steadily on two -war canoes bunched close together. The curator aimed a short-range -shell right over them, hoping to founder the remaining canoes. The -fearful concussion of the T. N. T. knocked their own party sprawling, -and, where there had been two canoes, now there was a boiling geyser -of water in which they rose like tossed logs, their crews tumbling -headlong through the white glare. It proved too much for the remaining -three canoes. The flashlight showed them turning tail and paddling away -in frantic haste. - -“Travel, Nigger, Travel!--that’s what T. N. T. means!” whooped the -curator. “Paddle, boys, after ’em--_hard_! I’m going to put the fear of -God into these people!” - -He aimed the air gun at a high arc, and the shell whistled on its -way. High over the three canoes it exploded, with the strength of -giant-powder fireworks. Under its glare they could see the paddlers -knocked hurtling with the concussion. - -Baderoon laughed uproariously. “_Yow-yowri!_ Prenty debbil-debbil, -_Orang-kaya!_ Make’m thunder--_Boom! Boom!_” - -“Threw a good scare into ’em! That’s the ticket!” grinned the curator. -“They’ll swim ashore pretty well gentled, I’m thinking!--Keep after -’em, boys, as hard as you can make her go! They’re gaining on us!” - -He raised the air gun to its utmost elevation and the tiny streak of -fire of the fuse rose in a high arc. It fell into the bay ahead of the -three canoes, and there was a muffled thud which blew the whole bottom -out of the bay. A white avalanche of water came roaring toward the -three canoes and their bows rose dizzily and then the sterns flipped -high in the air. A babel of yells and shouts told of one canoe upset, -and then they steadied their own to meet the onrushing wave. It rocked -giddily, like a bark canoe in a boiling rapids, and water slapped over -her sides in a deluge, but her deep keel held her upright. - -“Bail, Dwight--and you, too, Baderoon!” ordered the curator. “Nicky, -you and Sadok keep on paddling. Don’t kill yourselves, as we’re out of -range of them now. I’m going up to that village and lay down the law to -that whole tribe! They’ll let white men alone, after that.” - -They followed slowly in the wake of the two fleeing canoes, and finally -lay floating idly about a mile out in front of the village. The -canoes that had gone across the lagoon and those from upstream had now -returned, as they could see by the assembling flares at the landing. -Howlings and constant booming of drums came over the water. They dozed -on the thwarts, letting the canoe drift and waiting for dawn. The noise -on shore kept up throughout the night, but, after an interminable wait, -a faint paling in the east, which swiftly grew to daylight over the -calm waters of the lagoon, set them to paddling slowly toward the shore -again. - -As they drew near it was full daylight and the clouds overhead were -already aflame with the rising sun. The curator loaded his air gun and -stood up in the bow as they approached the landing. A deathlike silence -reigned throughout the jungle. The long black canoes lay hauled up in -rows, deserted, and not a sign of life appeared in the huts nor in the -glades under the coco palms. - -As their bow grated on the beach, the curator took careful aim at -the largest of the huts and fired. The jungle shook with the sharp -detonation as the building was torn asunder in crackling walls -of bamboo and rattan which immediately took fire. Runnings and -scamperings in the forest--and then all was silent as the grave again. - -They stepped ashore in a compact little party, the boys with ready -pistols, Sadok’s long sumpitan sweeping every glade for a mark. The -curator walked to the center of the clearing and swept the surrounding -forest with his arm. - -“Pigs!” he pronounced, in the Arfak dialect, waving his arm around -comprehensively. - -There were rustlings in the jungle, but no native dared show himself. - -“Tell them, Baderoon, that white men are peaceful--when let alone. -Also, that the white man will not harm any chief if he will step out -and talk.” - -Baderoon raised his voice, translating the curator’s message. Absolute -silence brooded in the jungle. - -“Tell them,” said the curator, and his voice rang like iron, “that the -white man would be friends. But if they do not make a talk at once he -will bring down his thunders and lightnings and utterly destroy this -village, their canoes, and their coconut palms. I have spoken it.” - -Baderoon translated, and at this a grizzled old sinner with a white mop -of woolly hair stepped out trembling from behind a tree. - -“If the White Thunderer will only deign not to utterly destroy _us_!” -he croaked, shaking all over as Baderoon translated. - -“Ye shall call your old men to tow-tow; and ye shall send runners to -every village, far and near, lest the thunders descend on them also!” -declared the curator, sternly. - -“It is agreed,” said the old man, finally, with shaking voice. “Only -let the white man not harm us further! Many warriors and many canoes -come not back because of him!” - -He called into the forest and three other old men came unwillingly -forth. They advanced, unarmed, to the edge of the clearing, stooping -down and pouring sand on their heads in token of abject submission, but -that was as far as they could be coaxed to come. - -“It is well,” called the curator, at length, for he had no wish to risk -any undue familiarity with them. “Shoot something, Sadok. I want them -to fear you, too.” - -Sadok looked around for a mark, and his eyes lit on a wandering pig -under one of the huts. He poised his sumpitan and the dart flew out of -its muzzle. The pig squealed and twitched his tail, and then went on -rooting. In another moment he sighed and laid over, dead. - -A shiver and a rustling of leaves ran through the underbrush. - -“Ye have seen the silent death, also,” said Baderoon, raising his voice -at the curator’s prompting. “Do not eat the pig; it is taboo.” - -One of the old men took off his boars’-tusk breastplate and stepped -forward and laid it on the ground. He testified that it was a present. -At a sign from the curator Baderoon fetched it. The scientist examined -it curiously. The white tusks were laid in rows, one atop the other, -and their ends were bound with fiber network, thickly ornamented with -polished red beads. The curator started with astonishment as he looked -closely at them. - -“Ask him where they get those red beads, Baderoon.” - -There was some talk and waving of arms, and then Baderoon turned to the -curator. “Him get’m big mountain--down there,” he said, pointing to the -south. “Mus’ fight litty hill men for him. Prenty too-much trophy.” - -“Tell him the white man is pleased, and will give a present, too.” - -The curator undid his red-silk bandanna, and Baderoon bore it over -ceremoniously and laid it before the chief. The latter grinned, for -the first time, and they could see that he was dying to handle it. -He nodded at the curator with beaming eyes and made the pantomime of -rubbing noses. - -“Nothing doing!” snorted the curator. “That’s where the earlier -explorers all lose out! The natives soon find out we’re ordinary, -vulnerable human beings, if you let them get too familiar. Tell him, -Baderoon, that the white man says to start his runners at once, and -never to touch another white man so long as he lives! Farewell!” - -He turned to go as Baderoon translated. They walked back to the canoes -and picked out a small one, more easy to handle. Shoving off, they -paddled down the lagoon, the curator sitting silently in the stern, -for he knew that curious eyes were watching him from the jungle. A -repressed eagerness shone in his own as he still examined curiously the -boars’-tusk breastplate in his hands. - -“Well--I guess that’ll hold ’em for a time--eh, boys?” he smiled, -raising his eyes from it at length when they had left the village -landing far behind. “And--I may have something important to tell you -after we reach camp!” - -“Some weapon, that air pistol of yours, sir!” said Nicky, admiringly. -“How did you ever get such an idea?” - -“Oh, that was just a hang-over from the Western Front,” replied the -curator. “I’ve been through any number of trench scrimmages, and I -learned that it’s not the iron casing of grenades that does the most -mischief, but the gas itself. It has far more rending power than that -cast-iron shell of the grenade. Remember our old air guns of boyhood? -Well, I sent some sketches to the factory and had them make me this -pistol on the same lines. These light nickel shells of T. N. T. turned -out to be as good as heavy grenades when I tested them. All that is -needed is something to throw them with accuracy, so I had this gun made -and a lot of shells, timed for eighty, fifty, and thirty yards--which -is about as close as you can be to them with any safety. That’s all -there is to it. Beats the old dynamite stick that they used to use on -the savages of the South Seas all hollow, I’ll say!” - -They passed the floating wreckage of the night before as he spoke, and -everyone set to work picking up paddles, spears, and arrows, the latter -sticking up out of water, point down, like buoys. Then the curator -made a grab and hauled aboard a floating shield. It was of the same -long, oval type that the war party had carried the day before, and he -examined the red paint in the carving minutely with his magnifying -glass. - -“It’s the same mineral we found in Aru, Dwight,” he declared, after a -close scrutiny. “Wait till we get to camp; I’ve got a fine young idea -hatching.” - -That was all they could get out of him, but the paddles swept on more -tirelessly than ever, for both boys were consumed with curiosity over -the new mineral. - -At length they came to their own headland, with the frowning ramparts -of the mountains looming back of them endlessly to the south. Here was -the mouth of their creek, and up it they drove the canoe under the -green arches of the jungle. After a time it came out at the old coral -bank, and the abandoned sail proa showed up ahead, its bow still on the -little beach. Sadok and Baderoon jumped ashore and set about getting -their fire started, while the boys dove for their provision sacks, for -they had had nothing to eat for twenty-four hours and were famished. - -But the curator could not wait. He cut off a sliver from the red -mineral paint in the shield scrolls and scraped a portion of it into -a small test tube which he got out of his mess kit. Filling it with a -little water, he went over to Nicky’s alcohol flame and brought it to -a boil. Then he opened a tiny bottle of acid and dropped a tear of it -into the test tube. - -“Gad! boys!” he whooped. “What do you think of _that_?” he cried, -holding up the tube, now filled with a cloudy yellow precipitate. -“Remember that red stone we got in the channels of Aru, Dwight? Well, -this is the same mineral, _cinnabar_, red oxide of mercury, boys! If -there’s a mountain of it, as these natives tell us, back in the hills, -we’ve _got_ to find it, for, once it is reported, it will change the -whole history of this part of New Guinea. The stuff is worth its weight -in gold!” - -“Three cheers for Exploration!” mumbled Nicky, his mouth stuffed with -food. “Have some, Professor!” - - - - -VII - -CASSOWARY CAMP - - -“Baderoon, how call-him that place chief-fellah get red paint?” asked -the curator, turning to Baderoon from the test tube in his hand. - -“Red Mountain!” said Baderoon, promptly. - -“Good Lord!” ejaculated the curator. “There can’t be a whole mountain -of cinnabar, you know! Why, you could buy out the United States -Treasury with it! Might be a stratum of it--but, no; ‘_Red_’ Mountain! -If there’s enough of the ore in sight to give it that name, it’s -something we’ve got to see and report. Everything else is insignificant -compared to this, boys!” he exulted. “I discovered a mountain once, in -Mexico, near the top of which was a thick vein of cinnabar. Some day -they’ll run a railroad in there and get it out, it’s so valuable. But a -whole mountain of it, and right handy to the sea! Why, man, it’ll make -Holland the queen of the world again! Think how the world’s mercury -is hoarded, for making fulminate, for every primer and every shell -fuse that is shot!” he went on, excitedly. “Think of the explosives -possible, with unlimited supplies of mercury. T. N. T. isn’t in it, -compared with some of the fulminates! The Japs won the Russian war with -their new camphor shell, but their supply of camphor is limited. Some -day there will be a big war over Red Mountain, take it from me!” - -“’Ray for Exploration!” crowed Dwight. “Come on, Mr. Baldwin; here’s -some nice wallaby steak!” - -The curator grinned as he came back to earth and bit into the succulent -meat. “Just the same, boys, we’re going to see that mountain, or die -in the attempt. The only thing that worries me is how to handle the -pygmies. It’s right in their country, and we’ll have to wade through -them to get there. They were peaceable enough with the English -expedition, but that was only because they were afraid to start -anything. They’re always at war with the Papuans, and there’s a sort -of no-man’s land between the jungle and the foothills which cannot be -crossed by either side without a fight. However, the first thing for -us to do is to jerk the rest of this wallaby meat and each man carry -along a bag of pemmican made of it.” - -They erected a pole jerky frame that afternoon, and started a small -drying fire under it, with long strips of the meat hanging in rows -from the poles. Under the hot tropical sun the drying process went on -apace, and soon the strips had become hard sticks of meat, greasy to -the touch, hard and fibrous as wood. Steadily, also, the collections -grew larger, box after box being filled with Dwight’s insects, -Nicky’s reptiles, and the curator’s birds, while their big tin of -bird skins was filled up and sealed. This main collection was to be -a representative one of the whole region, after which only the rarer -specimens need be sought for. On the third day the crate of collections -boxes was cached, well hidden in a coral cave dug in the thickets. - -Meanwhile Sadok set about replenishing his supply of poisoned arrows, -as his quiver of them had run low. He cut a quantity of the long thorns -of the sago palm, and near the bottom of each he lashed a little cone -of the corklike bark, so that it would just fit in the bore of the -sumpitan, which was about three eighths of an inch in diameter. For -poisoning the points he had a supply of the gummy juice of the upas -tree, brought from Borneo and carefully kept in a small bamboo bottle -which hung on his belt. - -Sadok was grouched. A faint but noisesome odor came from somewhere in -the jungle, where his three heads were drying, but here, look you, had -been two fights with the Outanatas since, and never a head for his -personal collection! He was comforted, however, by the curator telling -him that the upas vine, or some other representative of the strychnine -family, grew in New Guinea, also, and that there would be plenty of -ructions before he ever saw Borneo again. - -Their stay at this camp had given them not only a fair idea of the -general features of the country, but of the weather as well. Under the -west monsoon, its daily changes were as regular as clockwork. A fine -cool dawn, followed by several hours of misty and clearing weather when -it was good to be up and doing; then the heat of midday, when even -the jungle people knew enough to take a siesta; and then, about four -o’clock, a tropical thunderstorm of the utmost violence, lasting until -eight at night, when the sky cleared off. They soon learned to plan -their day according to these weather changes, and at length the party -broke camp for the long trek into the mountains. They followed much the -same trail as before, to the table-lands along the mountain flank, and -stopped for lunch on the pebbly site of their capture by the war party -of the Outanatas of the week before. - -But with what different feelings now! Then the fear of the unknown, the -dread of meeting cannibal savages who would surely regard them as but -strangers to be killed and eaten at sight. Now a feeling of confidence -replaced all that. They had established the superiority of the white -man in all that region, the respect in the native mind that is based -only on superior force. Not even a native runner had dared show his -face since that punitive expedition of the curator’s. They even felt -confident to hunt singly, not too far from the main party. While the -others were settling down for the noonday siesta in the heat of midday, -Dwight spied a flash of brilliant orange in the greens of the jungle -across the creek, and set out alone after the bird, shotgun in hand. -The orange spot flew off into the jungle as he drew near it, but Dwight -had caught a glimpse of black-velvet plumage, and that flaming fire of -orange on the throat, which made him tingle all over with the thrill -that it _might_ be the exceedingly rare six-shafted bird of paradise! -He followed on through the jungle, his eyes fixed on that small dot of -black perched far ahead, high in the tree tops. Moving as cautiously as -he could, he worked through the festooned creepers and the huge boles -of giant jungle trees toward his prize. But to his chagrin, it flew off -again, just as he was about to try the spiteful little twenty-gauge at -long range. - -The boy’s eyes followed the bird avidly. To bring back a six-shafter! -Why, all this expedition had been for just such a prize as this! -Nothing is known of this bird save what can be conjectured from the -few skins now in the world’s museums. To add one more to that meager -collection, each specimen with who knows what story of adventure and -privation behind it, seemed to Dwight a corking enterprise. Using all -the woodcraft he possessed, he worked silently through the jungle. -Experience had taught him to look ahead for a place to plant each -footstep, not only to be sure that one did not step on a snake, but -also to insure the foot coming down in position to fire instantly. -With gun muzzle up, he advanced carefully, praying earnestly that his -quarry might linger just a few minutes more. - -Again the paradise bird fluttered off, and this time Dwight had but -a line on where he had gone, for the last glimpse of him disappeared -through the jungle, far off through the tree trunks. He groaned with -disappointment, but he was not the boy to give up while there was a -ghost of a chance left. Fixing on a tall Erythrina as the last tree -past which the bird had soared, he set out as fast as possible. In -perhaps half an hour he reached the tree, and, taking the range, set -out again, his eyes scrutinizing the leafy foliage of the jungle roof. -He had about begun to lose hope now, and, moreover, to realize that he -was totally lost in the jungle, far from his companions, when a flutter -of wings some distance ahead showed him his siren bird, flitting about -and feeding on clusters of blue tropical berries that hung in the -foliage of a high tree top that loomed up ahead. - -Dwight heaved a sigh of relief. The bird would surely stay there, -feeding, and he had plenty of time for a careful stalk. He wormed -through the jungle, and at last arrived where an aim could be had, at -not more than forty yards. Raising the gun carefully, he fired, and -down came his prize, at last! - -It was with a sort of breathless wonder that Dwight looked over the -six-shafted bird of paradise as he lifted it gently out of the dense -undergrowth in which it had fallen. _Why_ did nature lavish such -abundant beauty on a bird destined never to be seen by eyes that could -appreciate it? Human eyes, that is, for, of course, the bird would -be forever a delight to the eyes of that dull-colored little mate of -his whose protection demanded something less gorgeously visible. It -made him feel how insignificant is man in nature’s world. Man, the -animal, as exhibited by the naked savages who inhabited this forest -was Nature’s own child; assuredly this bird was not so decorated -to please him! Man, the intellectual, civilized man, could feel a -thrill of rapture over this creature of Nature’s, admire its intense -golden-orange throat scales, its rich, velvety, purple-black plumage, -its crown of vivid emerald and topaz colors, with the long wire-haired -plumes springing back like a coronet from its head; but Nature cared -nothing for intellectual man and his mind, which was not of her doing, -and she certainly did not make this bird for him! In fact, we are each -one of us two people, Dwight philosophized, amusing himself with these -fancies as he examined the paradise bird in his hand--man the animal, -the creature of Nature, living very like the animals themselves and -dependent on her, like them; and man, the intellectual, a creature -of a power that is above Nature, the Being from whom sprang art, -religion, philosophy, science, all the things that are above Nature and -essentially antagonistic to her. But in the end Nature always has her -revenge, for her jungles reclaim proud cities, as in India and Central -America, or her deserts isolate them, as Athens and the Parthenon, or -her sands bury them, like Egypt and the Sphinx. - -“All that sermon from one small tropical bird!” laughed Dwight to -himself, carelessly, as his thoughts came back to earth again. “Nature -may be irreconcilably hostile to us--but, where am I now, and how am I -going to get out? That’s the real question for _this_ man!” - -He had no idea how or where his wanderings in pursuit of the paradise -bird had taken him. All that was certain was that he had not crossed -the creek again, and that he was somewhere east of it. He laid a course -west with the compass, and set out, confident that he would sooner or -later strike the stream. - -But Nature proceeded to show him how utterly insignificant to her -is man. The first indication of it was a large plop of her tropical -rain which fell on his helmet. Dwight looked up, surprised to see the -sky overcast and the thunders of the daily afternoon tropical storm -muttering in the mountains. He must have been several hours following -this six-shafter! He hurried on back toward the creek, stumbling -through the jungle and striving to stifle panicky impulses to run. -It was essential to keep his head, and to pick out landmark trees, -methodically, ahead on his course, for you cannot steer yourself like -a ship with the compass in the jungle. He forced his attention upon -this, ignoring the raindrops, the steady patter of which kept up in the -tree tops. The wetted undergrowth soon soaked his thin khaki. He now -bitterly regretted setting out without his pack. Just a moment to have -shouldered it would have been enough, but he had been too eager, too -afraid to lose sight of his precious prize. - -A distant roar of wind, and an angry cannonade of thunder came from the -west, setting the jungle to rocking and tossing overhead, while birds -flew wildly through the tree tops, croaking and screeching harshly. -Dwight stopped and listened to it. He was trembling all over with the -wet cold, and sharp chills were running through him. Now or never was -the time for a signal, for no sound would carry far after the rain -came. He raised his gun, fired both barrels, and listened with all his -ears. - -No answer, save the roar of the rain, sounding louder and louder and -coming nearer and nearer. He looked about for the largest tree near him -and ran for it. The branches of wind-lashed forest were now parting -overhead, and out of the dark gray came vivid flashes of lightning -which filled the jungle with winking light. The long ropes of creepers -which climbed up to the branches of his tree from the jungle floor -swung solemnly in the wind, and Dwight crept under them and huddled -close against the trunk, cowering in the buttresses of the great roots. - -Then came the rain, in furious white sheets that filled the forest -with a flying haze. It soaked him instantly to the skin, while peal -after peal of thunder went off like cannon shots. An ungovernable -terror seized the boy--the fury of the wind-driven rain, the -loneliness, the crashing and riving of limbs and branches--and he -lifted up his voice in one last, despairing yell with every ounce of -lung power that he possessed. - -There was no answer--save a low, sibilant hiss, which sounded through -the lowering gloom, close at hand, whispering sharp and clear in his -ears above the noise of the storm! Dwight, startled with a shiver of -fright, looked up, to perceive that one of the great vines overhead -was _not_ a creeper, but a huge python, lowering himself steadily, his -neck crooked, and his head drawn back to strike at him! His gun flashed -to shoulder, and both barrels went off blindly as the boy’s nerves -collapsed with the shock of horror and he sank down in a shivering -heap. He had a dim feeling of yards and yards of snake tumbling down -through the vines beside him, but he seemed not to care about it at -all, for it was comfortable down here between these roots ... if he -could only find a place for his head.... - -When he came to it was pitch dark and the storm had gone on. A -scampering of jungle rats made off through the black as Dwight moved -his cramped limbs wearily, to find them aching all over and his face -hot and flushed with fever, while violent chills kept running upward -through his body. - -He peered about him, bewildered; then conscious ideas began to pelt in -upon him. - -“F-f-fire! Quick-ick as I can m-make one!” he chattered to himself, -fumbling for his pocket flasher. Its small but brilliant light lit up -the jungle, causing many an outcry of night birds and a scurrying over -the forest floor of land crabs and small marsupials. It also revealed -the tumbled heap of the python lying beside him, its neck shot in two -and parts of its reticulated length already gnawed by rodents. He -glanced at it casually; to get wood that would burn was the real worry -now! the jungle was black as a pocket, and a wan mist hung through -it. After one flash of the light on those miasmas, drifting like pale -death through the trees, Dwight hurriedly got out his medicine kit and -swallowed some quinine. Then he sought kindlings in the underbrush, -breaking twigs here and there, but they were all sodden and moldy. He -felt sick all over and burning with fever, and he wanted to lie down -again and sleep forever; but it was most imperative to stay alive, so -he started off through the jungle in search of firewood, stumbling -westward by compass, until a great tangle of vines ahead of him told of -a prone dead tree. - -His spirits rose as his eye lit on it, and he pushed his way under -the great bole with ready shotgun, for he could not tell how many -jungle dwellers might have camped under it during the storm. A grand -scampering and creeping rustled the dry leaves under the trunk, but it -soon stopped and the flashlight showed the cavelike space all clear. -Dwight shouldered his way into it, and at once cleared a space for -a fire and began peeling off strips of dry bark from the under side -of the tree. Blessed, blessed fire! The one human thing in all this -dark jungle! That was the turning point in his mental distress, for -dejection gave way to cheerfulness, wandering homelessness to a hearth -and a campfire. Soon the warmth of its small blaze penetrated even his -chilled bones, and it and the quinine gradually drove off his fever. -Dwight waited out the night under the trunk, trying the cave man’s -posture of sleep, squatting on his hams with his head resting on arms -crossed over his knees (still used by the hill men of India and by many -tribes of the Malay Archipelago). He found it not so bad, even though -irksome to a white man’s heel tendon. Keeping the fire going with bark -and small branches broken from the tree trunk, he gradually dried out, -and at length there came the dawn of another day and the jungle awoke -to life. - -Starting off by compass again, he steered due west, bound in time to -strike the brook. It was not for an hour more of traveling that the -jungle began to lighten on ahead, and bits of sky, glimpses of mountain -side, and the tops of low trees told him he was coming to where the -brook skirted the plateau. Dense, thorny underbrush began to block -his way now, and beyond it came the rippling murmur of the stream. He -shouted for the curator and his party, hoping that he was near enough -to camp for his voice to be heard. No answer came, except the sough -of the wind over the grasses and bushes of the plateau, so Dwight -decided to get out into the open and study the mountains for something -familiar. He forced his way to the stream-side and jumped across. - -He discovered, from the familiar headlands of the mountain chain, that -he was some distance above camp. It seemed well to fire another signal -in the open, and he was about to do so when three large birds as big as -ostriches jumped from the grass in the swales and began to run, making -a scraping, cackling noise something like the wild brush turkey. - -“Cassowaries!” exclaimed Dwight, thrilling with adventure again as his -gun sprang to shoulder. They were running like deer, their red, wattled -heads and bright-blue necks stretched out ahead like giant chickens. -His shotgun held only sixes, so Dwight aimed for the speeding head of -the nearest cassowary as at a flying quail, swinging ahead and firing -like a wing shot. - -The cassowary went down, while the other two flapped off in a wild -burst of speed, using their wings to aid their legs. Dwight rushed -out, intending to finish off his bird with the knife, as he did not -wish to injure the skin of the specimen with a close-up shot. The -great bird lay in the grass as he came up, its fiery eye looking at -him, unconquered, like a rooster that has been worsted in a fight. -As he rushed up it flew at him, squawking discordantly. Dwight beat -him off with the barrels of his gun. The air seemed full of the great -black wings of his adversary, blinding him with blows of the coarse, -double-quilled pinions. It never occurred to him that a cassowary -could be really dangerous, and he laughed confidently as the heavy -bird fell to the ground and prepared to spring again. With the second -leap its long blue neck lunged out and its blunt bill caught his shirt -collar and held on like a snapping turtle, while its stout legs drummed -fiercely on his chest. Dwight felt the canvas of his coat being ripped, -and then a sharp pain seared down his breast to the belt like a hot -iron. He was now fighting off the cassowary desperately, stabbing -blindly, and warding off the blows of the wings on his head with his -left arm. The tearing and rending of its legs on his chest kept up with -increasing violence, and he was forced to bring his elbows in close to -protect his stomach, dropping his knife and grabbing with his hands at -the stout feet of the cassowary--anything to prevent being disemboweled! - -[Illustration: THEN A SHIVER WENT THROUGH THE BIRD, ITS EYES FLUTTERED -CLOSED, AND THE GRIP OF ITS BILL LOOSENED, WHILE THE BOY TUGGED HIMSELF -FREE] - -Then a shiver went through the bird, its eyes fluttered closed, -and the grip of its bill loosened, while the boy tugged himself free. -He jumped for his knife in a battling rage, intending to close in and -finish his adversary, who was now kicking feebly, when he heard a -shout, and turned to see Sadok and the curator come running across the -swales. A sumpitan dart sticking in the bird’s side told all! - -“Did he hurt you?” yelled the curator, sprinting toward him. “Don’t -ever go near a wounded cassowary, you darn fool!” he exploded, -wrathfully, as he came up. “Don’t you know they’re more dangerous than -a kangaroo? Look!” - -He stooped and held up the bird’s claw. On the inside toe was a long -hooked talon, curved and sharp as a tiger’s claw. - -“Did he get you with it?” demanded the curator, looking at him -anxiously, for Dwight still stood looking at him, speechless, holding -to his chest with his left hand. - -“Guess he did!” gasped the boy, swaying weakly. He lifted his hand and -his fingers ran red with blood. - -“Catch him, Sadok!” warned the curator as his own hand dove for the -first-aid in his hip pocket. Dwight leaned against Sadok’s strong -shoulder, while the curator opened his shirt and examined the wound -hastily. Two long gashes in his chest bled rather freely, but nothing -serious had been cut. - -“Lucky for you, son! He’d have ripped you open just as nice! Lots of -new-chums have been killed that way!” said the curator, cheerfully. - -“Lie down awhile; you’ll feel better presently,” he ordered, for Dwight -was white as a sheet. “But, congratulations, boy, first of all, on -your getting back to us! I had not time to say so, you know, in the -excitement of this ruction,” he apologized. “We’ll have to hunt in -pairs in the future. Where have you been, Dwight, and why did you stay -out all night?” - -“It was worth it!” smiled the boy, feebly, and he dug into his coat -pocket and brought out the six-shafted bird of paradise, carefully -swathed in his handkerchief. - -The curator undid the fastenings; then a whoop of joy escaped him. - -“Boy!” he beamed, reaching forward to shake Dwight’s hand again. “It -sure _was_ worth it! Man, it’s the big prize of the expedition--so far!” - -He and Sadok then fired shots and called until they brought Nicky and -Baderoon out of the jungle. Nicky came up on the run. - -“Where’s Dwight? What’s happened?” he cried, anxiously; then, catching -sight of Dwight: “You--old--hatrack!” he burbled, flinging himself -affectionately on his chum. “Say, the whole camp was worrying about you -and firing guns, last night! Get lost in the jungle?” - -“Nope. He got--this!” cut in the curator, holding up the flaming -glories of the paradise bird for Nicky to admire. “And then--a -cassowary tried to scrape an acquaintance with him, so to speak!” He -laughed, pointing out the huge bird lying in the grass, with Sadok -working over his skin. - -“And, b’lieve me, your li’l’ old dart got there just in time!” chirped -Dwight from the grass. “Shake, Sadok!” - -“Make a stretcher out of a couple of coats and two poles, boys!” -ordered the curator, energetically, as Sadok finished the cassowary -skin with a grunt of satisfaction. “We four’ll tote him to camp. How -about Camp Cassowary for a name for this stop, hey, boys?” - - - - -VIII - -PYGMY LAND - - -“This is not an expedition--it’s getting to be a hospital!” exclaimed -the curator, whimsically, as Dwight was tucked away under his own tent -fly. “Baderoon’s arm is still game, and Dwight will be at least three -days getting healed up--yet. Did you ever see such glorious country to -move about in, or such wonderful weather?” - -Nicky agreed with him. He had collected in British Guiana and the West -Indies, yet this was the first time he had been free of the eternal -green maze of the deep jungle. Up here, high on the mountain flanks, -it was hot and dry, and the vegetation was more like the open African -veldt. Across the creek, to the east, and down into the lowlands, swept -the damp jungle; back of camp, to the west, rose the mountain sides, -inviting them irresistibly to climb up and see what might be seen from -their tops. - -Dwight’s adventure with the cassowary had upset their plans badly. -There was no telling how soon he could move, for wounds in the tropics -have an aggravating way of infecting and becoming obstinate about -healing. The curator chafed over the delay, scarce daring to hope that -the dry, breezy climate of the mountains would bring a swift closing -of the scratches of the cassowary’s claw. He considered, meanwhile, -the advisability of setting out with Nicky on a scouting tour, leaving -Sadok and Baderoon to guard the camp. He finally decided to risk a -day’s absence. - -“Dwight,” said he, coming over to the boy’s tent after making up his -mind, “Nicky and I are going to climb this mountain back of us, and do -some mapping and exploring from its top. We’ll be gone all day, and -possibly the night, too. It’s taking a chance, to break up our party -this way, I know, but half our time has already gone by since the proa -left, and we must be up and doing. I’m leaving you the most deadly -weapon I’ve got.” He pulled out a bright, shiny, nickel bomb from a -flap case on his belt. It seemed very light and fragile to Dwight as he -handled it. - -“I call it the ‘explorer’s bomb,’” said the curator. “It’s filled -with H. E. explosive. To arm it you bend this little copper projection -over until it breaks off and you hear a hiss. Then throw it for all -you’re worth and run! If a war party comes up, and they won’t keep -their distance or act hostile, throw it among them, and then you and -the others bolt for cover.” He unbelted the bomb’s carrying case, and -Dwight replaced the missile in it gingerly. “You won’t have to use it, -I’m sure,” said the curator, confidently. “Between the _lakatoi_ and -the canoe fight we’ve got a reputation for being best left alone, in -this region, I’m thinking.” - -He and Nicky set off early next morning. They went straight up the -mountain side through the thick and thorny jungle. The geological -formation was of comparatively recent lava rock, and the regular slope -signified that an old extinct volcano crater formed its top, no doubt -long since filled up and overgrown. As they climbed steadily higher, -and wider and wider vistas of the country came to view, this impression -was confirmed. High up on the slopes a regular talus of broken lava -rock from some former eruption barred their way. The bowlders were of -all sizes and their crevices and sunny flats held many a snake, so -that Nicky, as “snakeologist” of the expedition, felt constrained to -cut a snake stick and go after them. - -The curator lit his pipe and sat down to spy out the country, -meanwhile, with his glasses. Presently Nicky passed him, carrying a -long stick of lignum-vitæ with a length of string tied to its top. Just -under it he had nailed a staple with the string looped through it. -Nicky stalked along, jumping from rock to rock, his eyes intent below -him. Presently he made a quick jab with the stick, pulled tight on the -string, and then bore aloft a squirming red-and-black serpent, vainly -winding itself around the end of the stick, while its head struck -futilely at the empty air. - -“_Elaterus wallacei_--deadly poisonous,” announced Nicky, -scientifically, holding up the creature for the curator to admire. -“Isn’t he a beauty?” - -“Handsome!” agreed the curator, laughingly. “Not _quite_ so near, -Nick--and I hope you’ve got tight hold of that string!” - -“Sure! Watch me make a specimen of him!” said the enthusiast, picking -up a small club. He held the end of the snake stick down on a rock, -where a few judgmatical raps reduced his captive to a scientific -curiosity. - -Nicky dropped him in a small canvas bag which was pretty sure to have -a few lizards and frogs and turtles in it, also, at any given time -of day, and they set out upward again. A wide belt of century plants -barred their way as they climbed higher. They grew in rank profusion, -the great green leaves crossing in every direction, six feet high, -and all armed with a dagger point at the tip and saw teeth along the -blades. A man’s eyes would be worth nothing if he once got himself well -into them. - -A detour of about a mile brought them around the century plants, and -then came lava escarpments, steep and difficult to climb. Up them they -swarmed, and found themselves on a gradually rising, arid table-land -with sparse vegetation growing all about, and magnificent views out in -every direction. - -Working southward, they finally came out on a bald knob that the -curator had noted from the camp below and had determined to reach. Here -the view was superb, wonderful--when you came to consider that all you -looked at below was new and unmapped country. The curator’s pocket -aneroid gave their height at a little over six thousand feet. Far over -to the east could be made out the dim outlines of Geelvink Bay, with -the limitless Pacific behind it. Below them, to the west, the slopes -ran down sharply to the mangrove swamps that lined the shores fronting -on the Banda Sea, with the long point of Cape Debelle jutting out as if -on a small relief map directly below them. Beyond it, far over the sea, -a bank of clouds on the horizon told them of Aru, a hundred miles away. - -But it was to the south that their eyes turned with the most inquiring -interest. Here the ranges rose higher and higher, under heavy banks -of clouds, until, on the extreme horizon, the sun glinted on a white, -snowy sea of mountains, jagged with peaks and caps, with Carstensz -(17,000 feet) just visible as a tiny jutting point of white. Two -hundred years ago Jan Carstensz, navigating along these shores, caught -a glimpse of the Snow Mountains from the decks of his vessel and -reported them in the ship’s log. It was such a rare glimpse, behind the -eternal veil of clouds that shrouds the interior of New Guinea, that -no one believed him. From that day to this, a lifting of the jungle -clouds hanging low over the mountains, and the white man present to see -them, have never come at the same time, so that even the existence of -the high fellows in the interior has been regarded as a wild tale of -Jan Carstensz. It was not for more than two centuries later, in 1911, -that Jan Lorentz, another intrepid Hollander, with a party of twenty -Dyaks, made a dash through the pygmy country and ascended the first one -of the Snow Mountains, naming it Mt. Wilhelmina in honor of the Dutch -queen. - -From their own knob another wonderful feature of the country could also -be seen, extending southward in a long flat perspective--the Great -Precipice. For two hundred miles this precipice extends like a rampart, -dividing the mountains from the flat jungle. It rises sometimes to a -sheer height of ten thousand feet, undoubtedly the grandest precipice -in the world. Sloping up to it, they could make out the jungle-clad -talus, and beyond that the lowlands of the river country, widening out -more and more as the coast land flowed southward. Dozens of rivers, -they knew, cut through this jungle, out of sight in the green sea of -foliage, and here was the scene of the English expedition, their -party arriving full of hope and confidence, only to be baffled by the -precipice and the swift floods of the rivers from getting farther than -the foothills of the Snow Mountains. Here they had discovered the race -of pygmies, and had visited one of their villages, collected implements -of war and domestic usage, and, most valuable of all, a list of some -fourteen words in their tongue, now carefully preserved for future use -in the curator’s notebook. - -“Nicky,” said the curator, after a long and careful examination of a -spot on the jungly hills to the south of them, “I wish you would take a -look at that scar over yonder, where a sort of ravine seems to run down -the second mountain to the south of us. My eyes may be deceiving me, -but--” He handed over the glasses. - -Nicky looked eagerly, with his fresh young eyes glued to the binoculars. - -“Huts! Little huts, ’way up in the tree tops! I’m sure of it!” he -cried, after a careful scrutiny. - -“I knew it!” said the curator, quietly. “Those huts up in the tree tops -are where the unmarried girls of the pygmy tribes sleep. That marks -it as a pygmy village. See if you can’t make out larger huts on the -ground.” - -Nicky studied the jungle awhile, with intense concentration. “I see -them,” he cried, handing the curator the glasses. “The small huts are -built up in bare pandanus trees, and under the palms and bamboos around -them I can see a brown shape like a bear’s back--that’s a thatched hut.” - -Baldwin agreed with him, after a look for himself. Together they -planned a route to reach the village in about two days’ march. - -“Say, Mr. Baldwin, that war party of the Outanatas was on its way for a -fight with _them_, when they came upon us--that’s my hunch!” declared -Nicky, with sudden conviction. - -“No doubt! There’s probably more or less of an old trail, if we look -for it. And now for some plane-table surveys, Nicky.” - -The curator unfolded a large blank sheet among the rear pages of his -notebook, and on it drew a rough map of the country, with Nicky to -help with comment and suggestion. Then out of his mess kit he took a -flat, round brass box, which turned out to be a compass with folding -sight bars. With this compass, bearing sights were taken of all the -prominent peaks and hills in sight, and the map was then corrected to -agree with the bearings. - -Then the curator indicated a tall banyan tree growing on the end of a -spur of the mountain opposite to them to the south. - -“See that tree, Nick?” he asked. “We’ll climb up there to-morrow, and -take all these bearings again from that point. Where they intersect -these we have taken from here will be the true positions of all these -interior peaks and valleys on our maps. That’s the way we make an -accurate plane-table survey.” - -“How about the distance from here to the banyan tree as a base line?” -objected Nicky. “How’ll we lay that out on the map? We don’t know it.” - -“We’ll measure it, son. We’ll lay off a base line down in those open -swales where the cassowary got his Dwight, so to speak, and we’ll sight -this knob and the banyan tree, both, from below. With a known base, -and the two triangles erected on it by bearing angles, it’s a cinch to -calculate the distance from this knob to the banyan.” - -They descended the mountain to camp, finding Dwight up and about and -puttering around his camp, an occupation he dearly loved. Baderoon was -loafing to his heart’s content, and Sadok had succeeded in adding a -rare black cockatoo to the collections. That evening Nicky and the -curator went into the open and measured off a base line. From both ends -of it their mountain knob and the banyan tree on the next mountain to -the south could be sighted. The compass was set up on a stake, and the -bearings of both points carefully taken from each end of the base line. -It was dark when they got through. - -After the camp had fed for the night, the curator came over to Nicky’s -fly and squatted there, with his notebook spread out. He first laid -off their base line in a small number of the blue-line squares on a -page of the notebook. From the ends of this he drew the angles they had -taken with the compass. They formed two thin, wedge-shaped triangles, -slanting away from the base line in opposite directions. Counting the -blue squares between the outer points of these two triangles gave the -distance between the knob and the banyan tree compared with the base -line, from which it was easy to figure the actual distance. Laying this -out on his map, they were ready for the climb next day. - -It did not seem possible to Nicky that they could climb up a -new mountain, clear up to that banyan tree, without a series of -hair-raising adventures, but, strange to say, it was done! The boy -began to study out this phenomenon, finally, so unusual did it seem, -and he found the secret of it lay in the curator’s method. He was -after a plane-table survey, now, and so he let all the wild creatures -alone--and they let him alone! Cassowaries and brush turkeys ran off, -squawking cackles through the swales of saw grass, but the curator -heeded them not. Wallabys leapt for cover, and were let go free. They -passed a high pandanus with a tree kangaroo crawling in its top, but no -Nicky was detailed to go up after him. Snakes of high and low degree, -fascinating in the extreme to Nicky, went squirming on their ways -unchased. Even a cuscus of a new kind was passed by unmolested. Nicky -perceived that trouble would not hunt you, if you did not seek it, in -the New Guinea jungle. In a surprisingly short time they were at the -foot of the banyan tree and truing up all the points on the map with -intersecting lines drawn from their position. - -“Besides which, we have added a lot of stuff to the north which I -can correct with coast surveys,” concluded the curator as he folded -the pocket notebook. “I reckon this map will admit me to the Royal -Geographic and entitle me to a whole alphabet tacked on after my -name--much that I care!” he laughed. “The thing for us to do now is to -push on and visit the pygmies, and then for Cinnabar Mountain! Sorry -this survey did not show it up. Must be farther on to the south.” - -Next day camp was broken and the whole party was on the move. Baderoon -was entirely well, now, and Dwight so far healed that he and Sadok had -overturned nearly every rock near camp the day before, adding hundreds -of new beetles to his collection. They followed at first the old war -trail of the Outanatas, and then, as it deviated away, took the route -planned out by Nicky and the curator through the mountains from the -knob. That night the tents were pitched on the edge of a warm, dry -field of yellow grass, with coco palms and wild, small-fruited bananas -crowding out into the clearing. A little stream, flowing into their old -friend the creek, gave their roots the necessary water, and made a rill -to camp besides. It all reminded Nicky and Dwight of some of their -earlier Florida camps with the curator, and they felt entirely at home. - -At dawn each man cooked him a breakfast, rolled up his pack, and by -sunup they were on the trail again. From across the valley, a look-see -by Nicky up on the hillside disclosed the pygmy village, now not -half a day’s march away, and they went along cautiously, guns and -pistols ready and the curator’s air gun loaded with a short-range -shell, for they might come on a party of them unexpectedly and no one -could foresee the outcome. About a mile from the village they halted, -and chose an easily defended position on the mountain side. There -they waited for some of the pygmies to come that way. There was a -well-defined trail just below them, and they judged that it was often -used. In perhaps an hour voices came along it through the jungle. A -small party, of four warriors and a dog, were walking single file along -the path, and at sight of the curator they all stopped with guttural -exclamations of alarm. - -It seemed to Dwight that he had never looked upon such -villainous-looking little men. They were about four feet six inches -high, the tallest not four feet nine; brownish black in color; and, -instead of the Papuan mop of frizzled hair, their heads were nearly -bald, with black chin and side whiskers, in a sort of thick mane from -ear to ear. They carried bows at least a foot longer than they were -tall, spears, and a net bag slung over the shoulder. Each man had also -a small sack containing his fire sticks and other belongings slung -about his neck. In place of the usual loin cloth, or just plain nudity, -each wore a long, yellow half gourd, hung from a string around his -middle and secured by a thong through the crotch. - -Dwight thrilled to realize that he was looking upon the original -aborigines of New Guinea. Like the Negritos of the Philippines, and -our own cave men forbears, they were short, strong little men, with -well-developed muscles and stout legs, and they were in a high state -of hunting-tribe civilization, as shown by the decency of the gourd, -the absence of barbaric ornament, and the efficient hunter’s equipment -that each man carried. They did not seem particularly afraid, but stood -staring at the white party, arrows on bow, ready for any eventuality. - -The curator grinned and, pointing at the mangy-looking dog, “_Wiwi!_” -he pronounced. - -The four started with astonishment, to hear a word in their own tongue -spoken by this strange-looking white man. - -Then, pointing at the most clownish-looking one of the four, -“_Amare-ta?_” (“His?”) he asked, smiling genially. - -The man was evidently the butt and good fellow of the crowd, for the -shot about it being _his_ dog went home. A black-whiskered old pirate, -who was evidently their leader, cracked a smile and nodded his head. -Then they began to chatter among themselves, excitedly. Evidently they -had heard of the English expedition from their own tribes to the south. -The English had treated them well, experienced as they are in handling -natives. - -“_Kami oro-ta?_” (“Your houses?”) asked the curator, next. “Gosh! boys, -I only know fourteen words of their language, but I’m working them for -all they are worth!” he exclaimed in an aside to their own party. - -The pygmies grinned and nodded again, dropping their arrow points in a -more friendly manner. He was winning them fast. - -“_Kema-u-uteri!_” said the old fellow, vigorously, pointing toward the -village. - -“He means they’re going to give us a pig and some coconuts,” explained -the curator to his own party. “They want us to come up to the village. -I guess not! We’ll stay right here and see what next.” - -He nodded his thanks for their offer; then, “_Area-ta ku!_” (“My -boat!”) he said to the pygmies, waving his hand toward the lagoon down -in the valleys. “_Uta doro-ta!_” he added, pointing to their camp site, -the words telling them that his fire would be made there. - -The four nodded and grinned as the curator signified politely that they -were welcome to visit him. Then they started up the trail, with many a -backward glance of curiosity. - -“Now, then, boys, it’s up to us to barricade this camp and make it as -strong for defense as we can, until we see how everything turns out,” -said the curator, energetically, after they had gone. - -The site was admirably chosen. A huge prone bole lay across the front -of it, overlooking the trail, and it only needed stones cleared away -and piled on the flanks to make a veritable fort of it, with their rear -protected by the rocky ledges of the mountain. They cleared out the -inclosure and then started their fire. Presently yells and shouts and -an excited babel of voices came floating across the valley from the -village. Through the glasses they could see men, women, and children -crowding around the four hunters, and then there was an immense amount -of running around and preparations of some sort going on in the village. - -“The four were not on the war path, for they carried no bamboo knives -for head hunting,” ruminated the curator. “Tapiros, I suppose. Get a -lot of wood for a big fire,” he ordered. “We want plenty of light if -they come around to-night, so we can see what we are doing.” - -The noise in the village redoubled, and, as night came down and the -tents and hammocks were slung, it seemed that every man, woman, and -child in it was coming to visit them in a mob. A singing chorus of the -wild little hill men came marching toward them through the jungle paths. - -“That’s bad!” exclaimed the curator, anxiously. “If there was only some -way we could show our power, without hurting them! We can’t let a mob -get to close quarters with us.” - -“I think I’ve got a scheme, sir,” ventured Nicky. “There are a few -flashlights in my vest-pocket camera. Suppose I run out and explode -one in the path, about thirty yards off?” - -“Well--get it ready, anyhow,” hesitated the curator. “They don’t seem -to be hostile. Dwight and Sadok will cover you, while I will step out -in front of the log and try to act like a peaceable human being.” - -The pygmies came on in a crowd through the dark, torches here and there -shining through the bush. They did not seem to be sending out flanking -parties, which was reassuring, and the main body came on down the -trail. Nicky dashed out, lit the fuse of his flash, and had just gotten -back to the tree when it went off. A blinding glare lit up the scene. -It showed at least a hundred pygmies diving frantically for cover. -The whites noted with relief that the men were decorated with flowers -and carried no arms. A party bearing a pig trussed up on a pole had -suddenly set down their burden and decamped. - -“They’re friendly!” cried the curator, relievedly. “I’d give a million -dollars for the word ‘friend’ in Tapiro!” Instead, he put his hand -over his heart and bowed his thanks for the pig, like any after-dinner -orator. Sadok threw a pile of grass on the fire and its flames lit up -the scene. The moment hung in the balance. - -“Sing, boys!--something plaintive!--for God’s sake, sing!” barked the -curator, hastily. - -On such sudden notice Nicky could think of nothing but the old campfire -ditty, “Sweet Adeline.” He poured it out, at the top of his voice, -the others chiming in on the refrain. All over the world, in lonely -campfires from the Arctic to the Equator, that plaintive song has -unburdened the hearts of hunters and explorers, as a wolf bays the -moon. It did not fail them now. Where words lacked, music got across. -That remote something in the plaintive chimes of “Adeline” that -satisfies the white hunter had reached over into the souls of this -tribe of the most ancient of all hunters. One or two old men came out, -quaking, from their hiding places, the leader of the original four one -of them. - -“_Yow-nata-u; kema-kema!_” he quavered, indicating the pig. - -“Thanks!” called out the curator, desperately. “Go get him, Sadok and -Baderoon. We’ve got to do the polite. I never knew music to fail with -savages yet!” - -They went down and carried the pig up ceremoniously, while the curator -kept on bowing his thanks. “Set it down in front of our tree. I’ve got -another idea,” he said, as they brought the pig up. “Put another of -your flashes in front of the pig, Nicky, and touch it off.” - -Nicky lit the fuse, and the curator stood over the pig, making what he -hoped were sufficiently impressive incantations over it. Presently the -flash went off, lighting up the whole jungle with its lurid glare. In -the intense darkness that followed, the pig was whisked over the log -out of sight. By the time sight returned to the eyes of the little hill -men it had disappeared. - -“That ought to hold ’em for a bit!” said the curator, out of the corner -of his mouth. “They call me _Yow-nata_, ‘sun maker,’ so a miracle or -two won’t do any harm. Got any more ideas, boys?” - -“Yes, I’ve got a good one!” came back Dwight. “Let’s have your flasher, -sir, and yours, Nicky. They’re both powerful. Now, then, have you got -anything to give them, sir?” - -“Sure! I’ve been saving a small bag of beads for some such affair as -this,” said the curator, producing them from a pocket. - -“All right. You walk out there with them, and I’ll do my stunt,” -chuckled Dwight. - -“Thank the Lord, ‘bead’ is one of the words the English got,” said the -curator, starting down to the trail. - -“_Upou_ [beads] _kema!_ [give]” he called out, holding out a handful -of them and waving it about. The old men crept forward warily. As they -came close to the curator, Dwight, with the flashers held on both sides -of his eyes, flashed them on. The effect was weird in the extreme. It -looked as if he had two fiery eyes, and the rays lit up the curator -and made the glass beads in his palm flash like jewels. There was an -instant dive by the hill men into the brush again. - -“_Amare upou kema! Amare upou kema!_ [I give you beads! I give you -beads!] Come out, you little devils!” he called, reassuringly, while -Dwight kept the rays turned on him steadily. - -It took a lot of coaxing, but finally the same old fellow ventured -forth again, trying the effect of the light on himself gingerly. He -jumped back as Dwight turned his face and swept the jungle, heads -popping out of sight like chipmunks as his “eyes” lit up the jungle. -Then the old man ventured out again as the rays returned to the -curator. Foot by foot he drew near, with many a questioning glance, -and finally the curator was able to drop a pile of beads in his hand. -He grunted with pleasure, and Baldwin signed for the other to approach. -He gave a small pile to each, and then walked back to the log. - -“Switch ’em off, Dwight. You did fine!” he exclaimed. “Now we’ll go -about our affairs and let ’em watch us for the present. You keep guard, -and if any of them venture too near, just turn those eyes on them and -we’ve got ’em on the run.” - -The tents were put up and candles and lanterns lit, the pygmies -watching every move from the jungle depths. The curator spent his time -trying to talk to the old men, who had gathered in the trail below -their log breastwork, and he finally attempted a few words in the hated -Papuan tongue. To his surprise they knew considerable of that, too, -and Baderoon was at once called to interpret. Between them a feast was -arranged next day in the village, and the information conveyed that the -white man would prefer that the tribe go back to their village, now, as -it was time for sleep. - -At this the older men gave an order (there did not seem to be any -central head chief) and they all drifted slowly back, their voices -coming faintly out of the jungle, all talking excitedly. - -“And now, boys, we’ll call it a day!” said the curator. “Looks as if -they were going to be friendly. Sadok, you stand watch until those -stars there”--indicating the Southern Cross--“come over that mountain. -Then call me.” - -The camp turned in, leaving Sadok on guard by the fire. - - - - -IX - -THE FIGHT AT THE CRATER - - -“Fill your canteens, boys!” ordered the curator, as they finished -breakfast next morning, “and stow all this pig meat we can carry, for -our aim will be to get through with this feast of the pygmies as soon -as we can and then push on south. Every man pack his kit for marching -order.” - -Sadok had butchered the pig during his night watch, and he and Baderoon -each had a ham ready for slinging. The camp reveled in fresh pork -chops, and then cut slices of the forequarters for carrying in their -pemmican sacks. - -Then they set out for the pygmy village, weapons still ready in case of -any treachery. All of the men of the tribe were gathered around a great -fire, and a huge feast of roast brush turkey, sago-palm bread, and yams -was set out, all ready to eat, but not a woman or a child was in sight. - -“That’s all right,” reassured the curator, as the others looked around -questioningly. “The English offered the pygmies any amount of bribes -for a single photograph of a woman, but they had all been moved up on -the mountain and no amount of persuasion could get them to call one -down. It means nothing hostile to us.” - -They seated themselves in the circle. The pygmy men carried no arms, -but they could see weapons stacked against the trees near by, among -them the thin, flat blades of the sinister bamboo knives used in head -hunting. The feast went on merrily, the curator working out a system -of learning pygmy words by pointing at objects and making the question -sign. Speaking mixed Papuan and pygmy, a considerable conversation was -being carried on. He managed to convey the idea that birds and insects -were exchangeable for more of the beads, and then, finally, after a -good deal of groping-- - -“Him want you-fellah stop prenty much time here,” explained Baderoon -out of the tangle of words and signs. - -The curator shook his head and pointed southward, smiling. Instantly an -angry look shot across the faces of the older men. They shook their -heads vigorously, and some halting Papuan dialect followed. - -“Him say taboo. Prenty debbil-debbil mountain thataway,” translated -Baderoon. “No good. Prenty hantus. Must go back!” He pointed north. - -The curator smiled. “Yes, we will--not! We might go back and circle -around them, fellows--but, no, they’ll have scouts spying on us until -we get out of the country, and it’ll be a jungle fight all the way to -try to get past them to the south. No; we’ll have it out with them now!” - -“Tell them,” he said, sternly, “that the _Yow-nata_ is not afraid of -any devil-devil, nor taboo, nor hantus.” - -An angry buzz greeted Baderoon’s translation. The little black-bearded -men shook their heads violently, and some of them began to look around -for their weapons. There were at least forty in the party. - -“Looks like a close-up!” muttered the curator, fumbling for his -explosive bomb. “We’ll retreat in good order to the south, boys, if -it comes to a fight. Perhaps if I show ’em this bomb it’ll take their -minds off it for the present. Good to have it handy, anyhow.” - -All eyes were fixed on the shining bauble as he drew it forth. The -effect, however, was somewhat different than he had intended. A fierce -cupidity shone in the eyes of the old fellow of the trail--here was a -bead that transcended all other beads in glory! - -“_Kema! Kema!_” (“Give! Give!”) he grunted, avidly, holding out his -hand for it. - -The curator shook his head. “_Yow-yowri!_” (“Bewitched!”) he said, -pointing to the sun. It flashed like a little sun in his hand, but, far -from being made afraid by its mysterious reflections, the desire for -its possession gleamed fairly murderous out of the pygmies’ eyes. A -dozen hands reached out for it. Suddenly a black hand like a monkey’s -paw shot under the curator’s arm and the bauble was snatched from his -hand. The whites jumped to their feet, gathering in a close knot. - -“This won’t do! Back off, boys, and get a little distance from them!” -barked the curator. They drew off, Sadok’s shield and sumpitan spear -covering their immediate retreat. But the pygmies were paying no -attention to them. They fought like wild men for the bomb, snatching -it from hand to hand, clawing and biting at one another with primal -savagery. In the midst of the snatching and grabbing a sharp hiss came -to their ears. They had broken off its primer in the struggle! - -“Run, fellows, run!” yelled the curator. They did not stop to look -back. They heard the thing go off among the pygmies with a thunder -that shook the ground under them, as up the hill they tore, past the -tree houses and up the stony slopes of the mountain. Below them they -could see a great sandy crater in the center of the village, the huts -all slanting askew, while warriors were running to the coconut trees, -arming themselves hurriedly. A short distance up the hill the curator -turned and fired the air pistol with a long-range shell. The deafening -crash of its explosion rang through the jungle over the village, -and they saw little black men thrown violently about, like black -tumble-bugs, with its concussion. They waited no longer, but toiled up -the hill as fast as they could climb. Shouts below and calls in the -jungle came to their ears. There was plenty of fight left in the little -hill men, and they knew that the mountain was being surrounded and that -a jungle fight of the most difficult character lay ahead of them. - -For a time they climbed steadily. The vegetation was thin and one -could see for some distance, so that the native archers could not get -up close as in the deep jungle. With Sadok and Baderoon as outliers, -they headed for the top. The mountain was another extinct volcanic -cone, and the same outcroppings of lava rock, the same belts of century -plants and aloes, were met as on the mountain back of Cassowary Camp. - -Next came bare patches of huge volcanic rocks. They could look out, -here, over the sea of jungle-covered mountains, and from the curve -of the sides of their own they judged that it was a perfect cone, a -volcano of somewhat recent activity. Sadok came running in, and in his -hand was a long cane arrow. The point was blood-red, and at first they -thought he had been hit, but his actions did not indicate it. - -“Littly black man close!” he breathed, heavily. “Shoot’m arrow.” - -The curator took the missile and examined its head carefully. It was -made of a blood-red, six-sided crystal, thinned to a point and lustrous -and polished. - -“Cinnabar, boys!” he exclaimed. “This tribe know all about Red -Mountain. That’s why they wouldn’t let us go south, and it’s why the -southern tribe at Wamberibi would not let the English go north, too! I -bet we see it when we reach this cone top!” - -They pressed on swiftly, the vegetation now scattered and consisting -only of the most arid and gnarly species, all plentifully provided with -thorns. - -“Look, _Orang-kaya_!” called Baderoon, hastily, pointing back down the -mountain. - -Five small hill men were climbing after them on the slopes. - -“Never mind them. Put out for the top, boys,” shouted the curator, -running after them. “We’ve got to get there and dig in before any -flanking parties cut us off.” - -They raced up over the lava-strewn slopes. The top of the mountain was -a bare cone, with a deep, narrow crater, perhaps fifty feet in bore, -extending down into it. A faint odor of sulphur came up from its dark -depths. Around the lip was fine lava dust and small rocks. For at least -fifty yards down the slopes there was no cover of any sort. - -“You and Sadok stand off those beggars, Dwight. Dig in on the rim -of the crater and pick ’em off. Here’s where we make our stand for -the present,” ordered the curator, as he and the rest of the party -ran around the crater to the south. They pawed shallow pits in the -detritus and lay down, watching the slopes below. No pygmies had come -in sight yet, but there was much that was interesting to study. Out of -the jungle clearing on the opposite mountain, beyond them to the south, -rose the smoke of a huge signal fire, and their glasses could make out -huts in the trees near it. To the east, the long wall of the Great -Precipice stretched southward, halving one side of the mountain ranges, -with the green of the lowland jungle swarming up to its base. Near its -brink was a small clearing and yet another pygmy village. It was their -country, all right! - -But to the southeast rose a sight that held them all breathless. The -geological formation in the interior was dark and stratified, of basic -instead of volcanic rock, and the ragged edges of thin coal seams could -be picked out running through the jungle along bare escarpments. Before -them rose sheer a truncated cone of a mountain, separated from the -interior formations by a deep gap. Its whole upper half was bare of -jungle, and across it, in a horizontal belt, ran a vein of deep pink, -at least four hundred feet from top to bottom! - -“Red Mountain!” gasped the curator, as he and Nicky stared speechless -at the fabulous wealth spread out before their eyes. “Pure -cinnabar--and Lord knows how many million tons of it! It makes that -Mexican deposit look like a thirty-cent Mex. dollar when you want to -buy a tin of white man’s tobacco with it! Well, while we’ve got time, -the most important thing in the world to do now is to locate that -mountain on the map.” - -The crack of Dwight’s automatic came to their ears as the curator got -out his notebook and the mess kit with his surveyor’s compass packed -in one of its pans. Dwight and Sadok were already at work, they could -hear, and as they opened out the map page a long cane arrow came -singing over their shoulders and soared on down the slope. - -“Gee! They must be getting close up on that side! Make it snappy, sir!” -said Nicky, drawing his revolver and laying it on a rock beside him. - -“We’ll add about three miles to the base line, from the banyan tree to -this cone,” said the curator, imperturbably, drawing it in with his -pencil. Then he sighted Red Mountain most carefully through the compass -bars. “Distance, about seven miles in an air line, I should judge. -What do you think, Nick?” - -Baderoon, to their right, gave a grunt and shot his stout bow. The -arrow soared down the slope and into a thick aloe clump on the edge of -the jungle. A little black man rose out of it and fell over backward. - -“Good shot, Baderoon!” commented Nicky, admiringly. There was no better -archer, or fighter, either, than their Papuan “black boy!” Nicky -squinted across at Red Mountain, shimmering in the distance. - -“Seven, or nearly eight miles, I should say,” he pronounced, -judgmatically. - -An arrow sprung from a rock about seventy yards down the slope as he -spoke. It came nosing up to them and fell just in front. - -Nicky sighted the spot with his Officer’s Model. “Here’s where I -scintillate!” he laughed. “This old six-gun’s at her best at long -range. Save your shells, Mr. Baldwin. I’ll get that bird!” - -Another arrow soared overhead, coming from the west. Then the curator -gave a low exclamation. - -“Look, Nick! There goes another signal fire, far to the south. We’ll -have all pygmy land around us in another day!” - -The revolver barked at that instant, and a puff of dust flew out from -the side of the rock behind which a hill man lay concealed. - -“Scared him to death, anyhow!” joked Nicky, turning to look at the new -fire. - -“We’re surrounded, all right, except on the east, and we can’t hold -off a whole army of them,” said the curator. “We’ve got two impossible -things to do, as I see it--get in to Red Mountain and bring off some -specimens and then make our escape from the country.” - -“Fat chance!” grunted Nicky, cheerfully, firing his revolver again. - -The curator studied the prospect to the east, for there lay their -only hope of escape. The terrific geological fault that had made the -Great Precipice was nearly buried on that side by the outpourings from -their volcano when it had been active, but the lava swept down to the -precipice edge in a frightful slope, where it ended abruptly. Blue -distance beyond it told of a considerable drop; how much could not be -conjectured. - -The arrows were coming more thickly, now. It seemed that at least -twenty of the little hill men lay concealed in among the bowlders below -them, and the occasional pop of Dwight’s automatic told that more of -them had come up on his side also. Only to the east was there a free -passage, but no man could live on that slope. Nicky and Baderoon were -both busy, and once in a while they would get one of the pygmies, -exposing himself recklessly in some crawl to a nearer point of vantage. -The curator borrowed Nicky’s alcohol cook kit and went down below the -rim of the crater to a little rocky ledge inside on the brink of its -deep bore. Here he set about making a mulligan for the party, for it -was now long past high noon. He shook his half-empty canteen after -filling the soup tin. - -“Water running low!” he muttered, uneasily. “We’ve got to get out of -this to-night! It’s up to me to do a scout down to the precipice brink -this afternoon, sometime.” - -A perfect fusillade of shots, and a yell for help from Dwight’s side, -caused him to jump to his feet hastily and rush for that side of the -crater. Putting his head cautiously over the brink, he instantly -whipped out his air gun, for a long black line of pygmies was charging -up the slope, each man behind his shield, the yellow blades of their -bamboo knives sticking up over their shoulders. Sadok’s sumpitan was -powerless against them, and Dwight was frantically shoving a fresh clip -into the butt of his automatic. Then a shell from the air gun whistled -on its way, and its explosion burst in a riving crash over the center -of the black line. Dwight opened fire and those on the right flank -began to fall back, while Sadok, no longer able to contain himself, -dashed down the slope at the survivors of the left flank. He flung -himself at them with whirling parang as bamboo knives flashed out, and -in another instant he was in the center of a whirlwind of flashing -knives. The parang-ihlang sheared through their shields like paper, for -Sadok was a star swordsman. Five to one, he was getting the best of -them, when the white flash of a keen bamboo knife cut him across the -shoulder and he fell, guarding himself with the parang in his left hand. - -Dwight’s bullets flew like hail, while the curator dashed down the -slope, armed only with Sadok’s abandoned sumpitan spear. In a second -he found himself facing the shields of the two pygmy survivors, who -circled him with ready knives. They were as light as feathers, but so -keen that a single cut would sever off a head, the curator knew; also -that he was a mere dub with that spear! Standing over Sadok, he stood -them off with the spear point, while the little black men danced and -feinted around him, watching their chance. He had counted on Dwight -following him, but a quick patter of shots from the crater came to his -ears, telling that they were busy at something urgent up there, too. -Then Sadok staggered to his feet. - -“Shoot, _Orang_!” he gasped, hoarsely. In a flash the curator divined -his meaning. The sumpitan held a dart! He raised it suddenly to his -lips and blew the missile full into the face of the pygmy opposite -him. The other dashed in, to be met by the flash of Sadok’s parang, -which sheared the bamboo knife aimed at the curator like a straw. -Defenseless, he turned and ran for the jungle, while the other pygmy -fell in a limp heap before him. - -With Sadok leaning heavily on him, weak from loss of blood, the -curator crawled slowly up the slope. Another arrow came singing out of -the jungle and sailed close over their heads. With a curse of rage, -he turned and shelled the spot with his air gun. A crackle of fire -followed the detonation. The dry thicket seemed to leap into red flame, -set afire by the shell, and clouds of white smoke swept up the slope -after them. Meanwhile a heavy sputtering of pistol shots came from over -the crater brim. Acting on a sudden impulse, the curator bore off to -the east and dropped Sadok behind some bowlders near the rim of the -precipice. Then he crawled down carefully from rock to rock, looking -up anxiously over his shoulder at the summit, for they were evidently -hard pressed up there. The yawning abyss fell away below him as he came -to the edge and looked over. Below was the green jungle of no-man’s -land, the vegetation creeping up the lava talus part way, where it was -finally stopped by lack of moisture and soil. From the brink to the -nearest point below was at least a hundred feet of sheer fall, and from -there on down the slope was the limit angle of repose. Without a long -rope there was no escape that way. - -“Well,” said the curator to himself, after an examination, “of the two -impossibilities, we’ll have to give up Red Mountain and try this! Eight -miles through pygmy land, with them buzzing like hornets about us--good -Lord!” he groaned. “Our report will have to go as it stands.” - -A yell came from Dwight, up in the crater. - -“Where are you, Mr. Baldwin?” it called. “We stood ’em off! Close call! -Hurry up! they’re getting ready for another rush.” - -“Bring everything and come on down here!” he yelled back. “Now’s your -chance.” - -Presently Dwight, Nicky, and Baderoon came creeping over the brink -on the north side. They slid down the slope on their backs and flung -themselves among the first large bowlders. The jungle to the north was -now a crackling mass of fire, driven on by the west monsoon, while a -fog of smoke covered that side. Behind it lay the pygmies, unable to -pass, and they were safe for the present from that quarter. But how -soon a rush would be made from the west and south they could not tell. -The curator crept back and brought Sadok from where he lay hidden in -the bowlders. Bandaging the gash on his right shoulder as swiftly as -he could, he got their party together on the precipice brink and each -man contributed whatever he had that would go toward making a rope. The -boys’ two tent ropes, the curator’s hammock rope, and Sadok’s turban -cloth were knotted together hastily. Then came the curator’s hammock -and the two tent flies. Tying the upper end to a gnarly ironwood bush -that grew near the brink, they let it all down over the cliff, where -the lower end dangled far below, still some twenty feet above the slope. - -“Won’t do!” said the curator, grimly, hauling it up again. “A man’s got -to land there on his feet or he’ll never escape pitching on down that -steep slope. Quick, now, all your belts, boys!” They were added on and -the rope lowered again. Shouts and yells came from the summit. At least -forty of the little men were up there, singing and dancing with victory -around the crater. - -“Well, I’m off!” said Nicky, who was the most fearless climber of them -all. He shook hands abruptly and swung over the brink. - - - - -X - -CINNABAR MOUNTAIN - - -A chorus of shouts arose from the pygmies as they discovered the -little knot of whites clustered on the precipice brink. Brandishing -their weapons, they climbed on down, shooting as they ran. The -curator stopped them with a shell that shook the mountain side like -an earthquake and sent a shower of stones rolling down upon their own -position. A yell came up from below. Nicky had arrived on the slope -and was stamping a shelf in the lava stones, sending showers of them -rolling on down below him. Dwight grabbed the rope and went down after -him, leaving his automatic with the curator. The hill men were now -sneaking down toward them, exposing themselves only occasionally to the -sumpitan and pistol. - -“Good-by, _Orang-kaya_!” said Baderoon, fumbling next at the rope. -“Me prenty ’fraid--but me go!” He swung himself over and dropped down -swiftly. - -“You next, Sadok. Can you manage it?” said the curator, anxiously. The -Dyak smiled grimly; wounds, weakness, physical disability, were nothing -when the spirit commanded. His fearless face showed that his mind could -overrule the frailties of his body. - -“Me do!” he grunted, and down over the cliff he went, his wounded right -arm forced to do its part. The curator turned and faced the pygmies. - -“Fine little men!” he grinned. “Some day you will be swept away like -chaff--but here’s one explorer who can appreciate you! Good-by!” - -He swung over and dropped down the rope, hand over hand. The men of -that old, old race, centuries before the first Papuan came to these -shores, were still in his mind as he descended. He regretted that he -could not have lived with them peacefully and studied their natures -more thoroughly. The ancient civilization of the hunting tribes was -theirs, and with it a mental quality that had kept them inviolate among -their hills in spite of a ring of hostile Papuan savages below them, -far superior in stature and numbers to all their tribes put together. -Like most of the real aborigines of the world, they would well repay -study. - -When he arrived at the foot of the rope the rest of the party had -tramped quite a trail along the foot of the cliff. Stones that now -showered over from above told them that it was essential to get to the -jungle as quickly as possible, and the shortest way was obviously along -the cliff base and over the turn of the volcanic cone poured down here -by former eruptions. - -But Nicky looked back at the rope, longingly. He hated to leave all -that good equipment behind. The rope part they could dispense with, but -without the curator’s hammock and their own tent flies the jungle would -be a misery during the afternoon thunderstorms. - -“Hike along, boys. I’m going to make a try at that rope before they -find it and haul it up!” - -Unmindful of the curator’s expostulations, amid the rain of falling -stones, he crouched close to the cliff face and drew out his revolver. -Most of the stones were dropping far out; it would be a mere chance -if he were hit. Three times he fired at the knot above the curator’s -hammock, a mark perhaps forty feet off. Then an arrow struck the -rock at his feet with a sharp tang, and, looking up, he saw one of -the pygmies leaning far out over the cliff, aiming at him again. The -rope had shaken a little at one of the shots and on this faint hope he -sprang for the tent fly and tugged fiercely at it. He thought he felt a -strand or two of it break and so jumped up on the tent fly, coming down -with all his weight. Another arrow spun past him. He realized that it -was only the peculiarity of having a vertical target that saved him, -for the archer above was overshooting him because of it. With a last -violent tug the rope strand parted, and Nicky sprawled headlong down -the lava slope. Like a cat he spread-eagled, flattening himself out on -the rubble of small stones, and finally he fetched up a considerable -distance down the slope. - -He was now a mark for a dozen arrows from above and they buzzed at him -like hornets. Rising, he leaped on down, stabbing with his feet and -sending an avalanche of rocks on before him. His strides kept getting -longer and longer. A breathless feeling of getting out of control, -falling down the slope faster and faster, made him think quick. He must -stop himself at any hazard, risk a fall, if need be! He resolved on -the latter, and, throwing himself sidewise, came down with a bump that -jarred every bone in his body. He saw stars for an instant, but held -his consciousness. Looking back, he could see that he was far out of -range now. Rubbing himself painfully, he got up and started to step -gingerly from rock to rock across the slope. - -But the hill men weren’t done with him yet. A great stone fell over the -cliff and came bounding down straight toward him. Nicky dodged it, as -derisive yells came from up above. Two more rocks came whizzing down -the slope, bounding like cannon balls. They seemed very terrific, but -the boy stood his ground and watched them pass, shooting in a great arc -high overhead and landing with a shock against the trees down in the -jungle below. He realized that he was not so easy to hit; that all it -required was watchfulness and care to win out. - -The slope was so steep that he could toss a pebble clear down to the -jungle below him, it seemed. Rocks, cactus, and century plants covered -the hill, the former so unstable that they had to be tested before -putting weight on them. As quickly as he could the boy picked his way -along the slope, dodging rocks of all sizes flung down from above. -Shouts of encouragement came from his own party under the cliff, who -now were moving along fast, calling for him to hurry. Then a yell of -warning echoed down from the curator, and Nicky looked up, bewildered. -The hill men had brought a pole from the jungle and were prying off a -whole ledge of stones hanging loosely poised above the cliff edge. - -He leaped along like a mountain goat, stumbling and sliding, starting -rocks by the dozen. The pygmies had chosen a place where the avalanche -would fall right across his path, and he could hear the distant grumble -of it as he jumped. Desperately his eyes looked below for a refuge, and -then he dove for a huge bowlder and fell flat behind it as the roar, it -seemed, of the whole slope coming down upon him sounded in his ears. -Determined to die game, he rose behind his rock as the noise swept down -toward him, for he was more afraid that his own rock would start and -crush him than anything else, and had determined to leap out at the -first sign of its going. - -Then came the roar of hurtling stones passing over him in a flying -cloud of dust. The thunder of it was appalling. His own rock moved -with the jar, slightly, and then settled back on its foundations again -as Nicky recalled the impulse to jump clear. Then came a wave of fine -pebbles and dust, curling around the ends of his rock and forming a -sort of pit around him. Showers of small stones cascaded over the top -and fell down on him like a rain. It gave him an idea. As the landslide -subsided he crouched, hidden behind the rock. Anxious calls came from -under the cliff, but Nicky lay hid. Why not pretend that the avalanche -had buried him? He only hoped that the curator or Dwight would not -attempt to come out and rescue him. - -The silence up on the cliff was broken by exulting yells, and he could -hear them stringing along now above the precipice, searching for the -whereabouts of the curator’s party below. If they would only keep on -without him! - -Another “_Coo-eee!_” came from under the cliff. “_Nicky! Are you alive, -old scout?_” came the yell of Dwight’s voice. - -He dared not call back. The hill men were too keen, and not easily -fooled. He lay quiet, listening. Presently the crackle of falling -stones and more yells and cries along the cliff told that their party -had been located. They were probably retreating along under the cliff -as fast as possible. Nicky turned and crept down the slope on his -stomach, looking back to see that the rock still hid him from sight -of the cliff top above. Then he worked over behind a small bush and -peered up through it. Whether there were hill men watching the slope, -concealed among the rocks above, he could not tell, but there probably -were. The whole north side of the volcano was smoking with the jungle -fire and it crept down until the thickets on the verge of the precipice -were red with burning trees. He noted with relief that it barred the -passage of their pursuers that way, or at least it necessitated a -detour, and he hoped that their party had gotten away. - -Whether to risk exposing himself now was the question. He was alone in -the heart of wildest New Guinea, and it was necessary to rejoin their -party and make a speed back toward the boat, for undoubtedly the hill -men knew of a defile down the precipice somewhere which would let them -out into no-man’s land. Also thunderheads were sweeping up from the -south, and it would not be an hour before the afternoon storm would be -due. - -Well, one thing was certain, he ought to let his people know that -he was still alive before they got out of hearing. Nicky drew his -revolver and fired two shots quick with it. A whoop came from up on -the mountain. They were watching the slope still! Then two shots from -Dwight’s automatic barked, muffled, from over the shoulder of the cone. -It sounded as if from the jungle. They would either wait for him there -or circle, the boy reasoned. Probably the latter, and he could rejoin -them down below at the foot of the slope. And now was the time to run, -for he could hear the hill men above calling for their companions and -presently the whole tribe would be back. - -Nicky rose and jumped down the slope. He got a glimpse over his -shoulder of two tiny black fellows dancing and hurling rocks -impotently, and then gave all his attention to getting down, for the -slide was steeper than a log chute. Swiftly the jungle seemed to rise -up to meet him, and with a final bound he reached the friendly shelter -of the trees and darted out of sight. - -Then, for the first time, his aching, bruised leg forced itself into -consciousness and he began to limp. Directing shots between him and -Dwight gave them his location, and then calls and shouts brought them -together. - -Dwight came running through the jungle, grinning with joy. - -“Gee! old man, we’d given you up for lost!” he yelled, capering about -and punching Nicky with delight. “Got all the plunder with you, too, -haven’t you!” - -“Sure!” gurgled Nicky, happily. “That’s what this war’s all about! -Where’s Mr. Baldwin?” - -“Back there a bit, waiting for us,” said Dwight. “We got to make time. -Forced march all night.” - -“Going to be a wet one, too!” retorted Nicky, limping along as a mutter -of thunder came rolling up from the south. “We’d better keep the tent -flies out.” - -They rejoined the curator, who noticed the game leg as soon as Nicky -came up. “Tough luck, kid!” he said, after congratulations had been -exchanged. “I’ll have to ask you to grin and bear it as best you can, -for we’ve got our work cut out for us to-night!” He drew his compass, -took a bearing--and started _south_, through the jungle! - -A general grunt of amazement ran through the party. “Why, Mr. Baldwin, -I thought we were to hurry north, so as to get back to the canoe ahead -of them!” cried Dwight, voicing the feeling of them all. - -“Well, I’ll tell you,” replied the curator, heading on steadily through -the thickets just below the base of the volcanic talus. “It’s a bit of -psychology that I’ve been working out. In the first place the pygmies, -I’m sure, think as you all thought. They judged by our actions that we -were beaten and would think of nothing but hurrying back to the sea -again. They will make forced marches, to-night, to head us off, I’ll -bet! And then we must reckon on the human nature of our own folks, too. -‘Seeing is believing’ is one of the truest old sayings there are. In -other words, we’ve simply _got_ to bring back some real specimens of -that cinnabar and be able to swear where we got it. No financier that I -know will back a company to open up mines on the mere say-so of a red -mountain seen eight miles off. I know red mercury ore strata as far as -I can see it--but I _might_ be mistaken. Suppose it should turn out to -be just red clay, or red iron ore!” - -“Gosh, sir! you’re right!” put in Nicky. “I sort of felt that way -myself, but I suppose I did not feel it hard enough to really do a -stunt like this!” - -“Sure!” smiled the curator. “It’s the difference between a youth and -a man, Nick. The youth gets the vague feeling, but he’s as like as -not to do nothing about it; the man reasons until he is convinced by -the force of logic--then he acts. Now I was studying the wall of the -Great Precipice when we were on the brink doing the rope fire-escape -trick, with just this idea in mind. There are gaps in this precipice -all along it, where the rivers tumble down from the hill country to the -low jungle on their way to the sea. I marked one, some distance beyond -that first signal fire to the south. It can’t be more than five miles -from there in to Cinnabar Mountain, and the gap’s about five miles from -here. Can we do ten miles to-night? That’s the question.” - -“How about getting past that village?” asked Dwight. - -“That’s the nice thing about my scheme,” laughed the curator. “I figure -that all their fighting men have gone north, long ago, to aid the men -of our village in repelling invaders. Those signal fires are evidently -used to call the clans when war parties of the Outanatas attack them. -The women and children, and perhaps a few old men, will be all that we -are likely to encounter, and we ought to slip by them successfully in -the night.” - -“Won’t they come down our rope and track us, sir?” said Nicky. “I’ve -been worrying about that, although no one tried it while I was on that -slope.” - -“You answered that with your revolver, Nick!” chuckled the curator. -“No man can drop forty feet to that talus and live. Of course they may -bring up more ropes, in time, but my idea is that all that’s left of -them, with perhaps a party of fighting men from this village ahead, are -now hot-footing it for some pass that they know of to the north. We’ll -be on Red Mountain and giving them the laugh while they are looking for -us up near the lagoon--and let’s hope they fall in with a war party of -the Outanatas while they are about it! Here comes the rain, men,” he -broke off. “We’ll make camp and cook something and get a bit of sleep -until the moon comes up.” - -They chose a spot well hidden in the jungle and the tent flies were -spread on poles. A monumental feed was cooked, between Nicky’s alcohol -burner and a small fire well hidden in the rocks under the tents, -while the rain came down in its usual torrential downpour. Then they -all turned in for some much-needed sleep. By nine o’clock the rain had -stopped and a faint light over the jungle promised moonlight through -the thinning clouds. The party was roused out and they broke camp, -Nicky and Sadok, who were stiff and sore, being rubbed down with arnica -by the curator before setting out. With the tent flies wrapped around -them, the three whites set out through the wet jungle, with Sadok and -Baderoon, whose naked skins seemed to revel in the raindrops, leading -on ahead. - -In an hour they had reached the banks of a small, swift stream, the -headwaters of some river that emptied into the sea fifty miles away. -Alligators, water snakes, and giant frogs plopped into its eddying -depths as they came up. The splash and gurgle of waterfalls came from -up the slope. Pushing along carefully, on the lookout for pythons and -snakes of lesser degree, they climbed up along its banks. Steeper and -more rocky became the gorge through which it defiled. Then rocky ledges -of black basalt hemmed them in on both sides, and out of the gap -cascaded a foaming waterfall. - -In the weird moonlight, with the black shadows almost solid to the -touch, it seemed to Nicky and Dwight that that was the most perilous -climb they had ever ventured upon. Baderoon was quaking with fear and -hanging back reluctantly, for he was no hill man, but the curator -and the intrepid Sadok led on upward, pioneering out the way and -hauling them up the steeper ledges by a tent fly let down for a rope. -Higher and higher they climbed, the jungle falling away below almost -vertically, while towering above them rose the walls of the gorge for -thousands of feet. It seemed good to be at last buried deep in the -cleft, with visions of the awful fate that would befall them below, if -any slipped, hid mercifully from sight. - -The stream came down in a series of cascades, varied by steep stretches -where it sluiced along through deep channels in the rock. At one place -they came to a veritable waterwheel where the whole torrent raced down -a slope into a shallow basin scooped out of the solid basalt, and it -shot up in a roaring pinwheel of water through which not even Sadok’s -sumpitan could be driven. - -Above it the walls of the gorge closed in to a narrow cleft, with high, -vertical sides. There was no getting past, on either side! - -“Case of swim!” ejaculated the curator, as they all stopped and looked -in at the deep pool filling the cleft from wall to wall like a black -ribbon. “Get out your flashers, boys. There’s one grain of comfort in -it, anyway--no one would ever dream that we’d come up this way!” - -They undressed and did up the bundles in the tent flies. - -“Glory be to Mike, there are no anacondas in New Guinea!” shivered -Nicky, looking at the black pool and thinking of former Guiana jungle -days. - -Still, it took courage to negotiate that pool! They scanned every -inch of the wall for snakes and then plunged in, close together for -mutual protection, the flashlights tied atop the boys’ heads with their -bandannas, and the packs strapped on their shoulders. It seemed that -that pool would never end! Its narrow ribbon of still water wound on -and on through the cleft, with here and there a ledge or a rock shelf -over which the water tumbled in a silent spillway, and where they could -get out and rest. From ahead came, louder and louder, the roar of a -waterfall. The curator listened uneasily. Such a cascade would be a -catastrophe, for, if there was no way around it, by no possibility -could they get up farther. - -They hurried on eagerly, now, anxious to learn their fate, fear of -some unknown thing seizing them from under water forgotten. A final -pool showed up in the glare of the flashlights. The curator heaved a -huge sigh of relief, for the head of the pool was a foaming suds of -eddying water into which the stream of the cascade tumbled from above, -and--blessed sight!--sticking up out of it was a huge tree, jammed in -there by some freshet, its upper end jutting out into the stars which -shone through the opening of the cleft! - -“Praise be!” ejaculated the curator, plunging in. “Come here, tree--I -love you!” - -They all swam over, and one by one crept up the log. A low hail from -the curator, and the hissed caution, “Lights out!” told them that -he had arrived safely in the ravine above. They found him already -dressing. They were in a steep, rocky ravine, filled with jungle -growth, and out of the bare rocks at last. Hastily the boys dressed -and made up their packs again. Sadok and Baderoon had merely to shake -themselves and they were ready for further adventures. - -“All aboard--and no talking!” whispered the curator, as they pushed on -up the ravine. For a mile it climbed steeply, and then Sadok halted and -pointed silently into the jungle. A well-defined path came down to the -brook here; and there were empty gourds and crude pottery jars on the -bank. - -“We are opposite the second village,” whispered the curator. “Step -lightly, fellows, and be careful not to break a stick. We’ll bear off -to the left, to high ground.” - -They went on noiselessly, following the general windings of the creek -in the bright moonlight. After another mile of it the curator halted. - -“I’ve a hunch that Red Mountain is somewhere near us by now,” he -muttered, cautiously. “Nicky, you’re the best climber. Swarm up that -pandanus, as high as you can get, and take a look-see.” - -Nicky went over to the tree and was soon up in its branches. Below -him fell away the lesser growth of the jungle. Other tall trees still -surrounded him, but as he shinnied up a high branch, at last a vista to -the east opened up. For a long time he gazed, with all the exultation -of the civilized white man, on an object of immense value to his race, -even though surrounded and protected by a ring of savagery. Before him, -shimmering in the clear moonlight, lay the irregular truncated cone of -Red Mountain, the enormous vein of cinnabar parting its upper half like -pink layer cake! Black seams of coal measures streaking the mountain -face told of the geological period when the mountain was born. Behind -it piled up the stratified peaks and table-lands of similar mountain -formations. The whole story lay clear in the educated, scientific mind -of the boy, and he thrilled with its significance. Here lay the true -geological formation of the interior of Dutch New Guinea, with Red -Mountain as a last outpost. Behind him lay the tremendous fault of the -Great Precipice, with its chain of volcanoes resulting from that mighty -crack in the earth’s surface. But before him lay all the mineral wealth -of New Guinea--coal measures, iron ore, what not--that would make this -vast island, the largest in the world--almost a continent--a land of -the utmost value to the white race! - -Coming back to earth from these explorer’s dreams, Nicky got out his -compass and took the mountain bearing. It was not over two miles from -where they were to the slopes of Red Mountain. Between them lay a low, -jungle-clad ridge; beyond it a swale or hollow of some kind, and then -the slopes themselves. He swarmed down the tree to report, and then -they all set out eagerly, in a straight line through the dry, arid -thickets. - -In half an hour they reached the top of the little ridge, and the -curator found a leaning dead tree and climbed out on it for a long, -soul-satisfying look for himself. Returning, they pitched down into the -swale, crossed it, and began to climb. Their watches said four o’clock -in the morning, so it was necessary to hasten, as they would be in -plain sight on that bald spot. - -Up and up the steep hillside they struggled, bidding the jungle -good-by, negotiating shelves and rocky escarpments that turned out to -be ledges ten feet high when they came to them. Far overhead towered -the flat side of the mountain, almost a precipice, and the depths -dropping below warned them that it would be mountaineering of the most -dangerous kind. - -A few more ledges; soul-harrowing crawls up rocky faces to which -they clung with feet digging into tiny crevices and fingers clawing -desperately at crumbly holds, and they had reached the bottom edge of -the vein! - -Dwight’s pick dug into the rich, red ore, and a lump of translucent -scarlet crystals, hard as adamant and surrounded with a matrix of -crumbling red ore, fell out into his hand. He passed it to the curator. - -“We’ve sure gone through hell for it, sir!” he exclaimed. “I guess -we’ve done our bit for New Guinea, eh?” - -“We sure have!” exclaimed the curator, feelingly. “You and Nicky each -get a specimen like this and stow it in your packs. And now, fellows, -an air line for our camp on the lagoon. We can make it in two days!” - - - - -XI - -THE FLIGHT TO THE COAST - - -Dawn was paling in the east as they crept slowly down the ledges of -Red Mountain. The going down was far worse than the climb up, and the -tent flies had to be called in play again to get over vertical drops -of ten feet or more where one’s eyes could not see below how to climb -down. Even then the haunting fear that some old pygmy watcher from the -village might have spied them on the mountain side lent haste to their -descent. It was with relief that they all gathered in the depths of the -jungle again. - -“Now, then, fellows, there’s only one way we can do this march to the -coast. We three will have to keep together while Sadok scouts on ahead. -Baderoon I’m going to turn loose, and let him run for it for Cassowary -Camp and then down that trail to the Outanata village, where he can get -a war party started back to rescue us. - -“Baderoon, you-fellah run catch’m Outanata man?” he asked. - -The negro grinned. He looked fresh and fit, and his long legs could -take him like a moose through the jungle. - -“_Orang-kaya_ give me-fellah sign take ’long black boy?” he suggested. - -“Sure! They might murder you for your mirror, in all your youth and -innocence!” laughed the curator. “Here, Nicky, get out a couple of your -empty alcohol tins. The chief’d love them, to put in his ears.” - -Baderoon eyed them longingly as Nicky got out the cans from his -rucksack. He’d have dearly loved to put them in his own ears, only the -important detail of stretching the lobe enough for such ornaments had -been neglected in his youth. Such does contact with civilized whites -debase the poor savage! He handled the cans reverently, and finally -stowed them somehow in his loin cloth. - -“Tell’m the Thunderer make war on litty black men--plenty heads!” -grinned the curator. “Run--plenty--too much!” - -Baderoon laughed merrily and set off into the jungle without a word. By -some way known only to himself he would cover those thirty miles that -day, threading alone through the trackless jungle. By noon next day a -war party of the Outanatas would be halfway back to them, thirsting for -a foray on their ancient enemies, the pygmies--with the powerful aid of -the man who called down the lightnings--or the curator was no judge of -human nature! - -After Baderoon had gone, they studied the mountains and valleys to the -south for some time, planning a route. - -“That big sugar loaf to the northeast looks familiar to me, Nick,” said -the curator. “Don’t you remember it, from our banyan tree outlook?” - -They got out the map, and presently located it from bearings taken on -the map from their position on Red Mountain. Once on that sugar loaf, -it would be easy to locate the bald knob above Cassowary Camp. - -He pointed out the shoulder to Sadok. “We go there,” he explained. “You -stop ’long front. You see black man, make’m call like red lory, two -time, and come back.” - -Sadok comprehended quickly, and with a white flash of his teeth led -on, his sumpitan balanced in his hands for instant use, and so they -set out. In two hours they had reached the shoulder, some six miles -through the jungle, and were cautiously reconnoitering for a lookout. -After some climbing, a ledge was found that rose over the summits of -the trees below. They wormed up it and lay flat in the grass on its -edge, spying out the country with their glasses. Over to the east rose -the cone of the old volcano, with the pygmy village on it, the girls’ -tree huts visible like white specks in the sunlit clearing. Beyond that -was the mountain with the great banyan tree on its north shoulder, and -beyond that again in the blue distance, about twelve miles off, the -bald knob above Cassowary Camp. - -But it was the green jungle below them that they searched most -carefully. The view below was not reassuring. The haze of at least -three fires rose above the trees at widely different points. Allowing -forty men to each war party, there would be over a hundred of the pygmy -warriors outlying between them and their home base. - -“We’ll stay right here, boys, until the rain--and then, by George! -we’ll try to push through them during the storm!” declared the curator, -with sudden resolution. “It’ll be pitch black for at least two hours -after that. How’s the ammunition, fellows?” - -“I’ve only got twelve cartridges left, sir,” said Nicky, lugubriously, -“and Dwight has two clips, and then he’s through.” - -“Well, I’ve only got four shells, myself,” said the curator, -cheerfully. “Two of them are thirty-yard close-ups. We’ll have to -husband ammunition for a possible rush, and depend on Sadok. You got’m -plenty dart, Sadok?” he asked. - -The Dyak shook his head and opened the cover of his bamboo quiver. -“Poison him all gone, too!” he announced. - -“We’ve got our work cut out for us, then! We’ll camp and get something -to eat, and then wait until the clouds come before setting out. -Meanwhile we’ll have to find a upas vine, or something like it. Either -of you boys know strychnine when you see it?” - -They shook their heads. Botany was out of their line. - -“Got to know ’most everything if you’re a scientist,” grinned the -curator, deprecatingly. “Well, the species we want is _S. tieute_, -native of all this archipelago, the upas vine. It’s a climbing shrub, -five-leaved, with little bunches of berries in a leathery rind like a -small dried orange.” - -“I think I’ve noticed one or two like that, sir, myself, going through -the jungle,” said Dwight, reminiscently. “Climbs all over larger trees, -doesn’t it?” He sketched a leaf on a bit of rock as he spoke. - -“Yep. That’s him. You and Sadok scout around for one while Nick and I -get ready some eats,” said the curator. “You may also find the upas -_tree_, which is of the bread-fruit family, but I doubt it. Never heard -of it south of Java. Look for a tall tree a hundred feet high, with -lanceolate leaves and berries in a drooping cluster. Both are used for -poisoning arrows and darts, from the Philippines south.” - -Dwight arranged a lory call for Sadok, in case either of them should -need the other, and they separated, each vanishing into the lower -jungle. - -Dwight walked along, searching the jungle growth with keen eyes. -Gradually his course led him around the flank to the south and into -a deep ravine, with great trees dropping down the slopes below him -into the depths. It was impossible to see far, in here, so he climbed -up a small tree and looked out. The ravine led up the mountain side, -with all the jungle spread out like a map on its flanks. Searching -carefully each giant trunk, he at length spied one overgrown with a -profusion of some vine that looked promising, and, marking it, he set -out. In ten minutes he was close enough to the vine to examine it more -carefully. The reddish bark, the five-fingered leaf, looked as if it -might be one of that famous family of strychnine trees that extends -all around the tropics, from India through the archipelago, to South -America and across Africa. Dwight thrilled with a primal, almost -superstitious fear as he looked at this sinister representative of -its race. It was more deadly than a cobra, if it could bite you! All -the stories he had ever heard of the poisonous air that surrounds the -strychnine trees came to him; and that fabled Valley of Death in Java, -grown thick with upas trees in which nothing can live, came to mind. He -kept his distance from the dreaded vine, respectfully, and was about to -try to reach Sadok with a call, when voices coming through the jungle -arrested him. He sank into the undergrowth and watched through its -green depths. - -The voices came nearer, guttural tones that set him shivering with -excitement. They were coming down the ravine on his side and would -pass quite near him, he judged. He drew his automatic and waited. - -Then three diminutive black-bearded warriors came into view, passing -down what must have been a trail through the jungle, although he had -not noticed any in crossing. They passed silently through the green -glade, and then two more came into view. Before them they drove a -prisoner, a tall Papuan. - -Dwight gasped as he looked to make sure--it was Baderoon--captured by -the pygmies! - -All the generous instincts of youth rose up in him at the sight, and -without thinking further he raised his pistol and fired at the nearest -pygmy. With grunts of surprise they all bolted into the forest, while -Baderoon leaped into the jungle and came running toward him, his arms -bound behind his back. Dwight raised his helmet out of the underbrush -an instant so Baderoon could find him, and then sank out of sight. An -arrow came singing and tanging through the twigs, and then Baderoon -stumbled into his lair and fell at his feet. - -“_Orang-kichil!_ Cut!” he gasped, turning over on his face. Dwight -drew his hunting knife and severed the fibers that bound him. Baderoon -wriggled over, his face alight with its happy, care-free Papuan smile. -Then came the grim lines of pain as he bore stoically the throes of -returning circulation in his arms. Dwight kept up a cautious vigil, -expecting momentarily an arrow from some unseen source in the jungle. -And the presence of the deadly upas vine behind him did not leave any -illusions as to how that arrow would be armed! - -Still the stealthy silence! It was his first taste of real jungle -fighting, and the boy would gladly have exchanged it for any amount -of odds in the open, where one could see and think. Not a bush moved, -not a stick cracked; the pygmies might have utterly vanished from the -earth, for any sign that the jungle gave to the contrary. - -Then came the call of the Papuan lory, twice repeated. It was not far -off, and it roused Dwight to a frenzy of hard thinking. The curator and -Nicky, with perhaps Sadok, also, were coming, having heard his pistol -shot. They must be warned at any hazards. To move from his place of -concealment was death. He cudgeled his brains for an answer, turning -over one plan after another rapidly and rejecting them all. - -Three of anything means “Danger!” in the wilderness, all over -the world; such a signal they would at once comprehend, and act -accordingly. Three pistol shots would give his location away by their -smoke. Dwight raised his voice and gave the lory call three times in -answer. - -Bows instantly twanged in the jungle, and two arrows swished through -the thickets around his position. Dwight took off his helmet and peered -furtively through every vista, searching every tree trunk, but not a -sign could he discover whence they came. - -Then came the cough of Sadok’s sumpitan from somewhere, and a small -black-bearded hill man rose suddenly out of the bushes, not thirty feet -away, and fell over backward, silently. - -“Me go! Me-fellah catch’m bow’n arrow!” whispered Baderoon, from the -ground, wringing his wrists vigorously and eying Dwight’s hunting knife -longingly. - -Dwight nodded approval. Two could play at this bushwhacking game! And -none better than their own native bushman. He handed Baderoon the knife -and the Papuan melted off into the undergrowth toward the body of the -dead pygmy. - -A long, sinister silence set in. Dwight watched in every direction, -scanning the forest intensely through his leafy screen, but nothing -that he could fire at appeared. Then a sudden shock of fright went -through him. Surely that bush over there was much nearer now than when -he had looked at it last! Surely it was not natural, growing so close -to the roots of that giant euphorbia that towered up near it! Nature -did not grow bushes in such dense shade! He was about to fire into it, -when a long black arm struck out from behind the tree trunk and there -was a flash of bright steel, while the bush writhed in convulsions and -then lay still. - -Baderoon! In spite of his religious taboo against steel, he had broken -it for them. Dwight could appreciate that, and he began to have immense -confidence in their two wild allies. In the jungle, where he and the -curator and Nicky were helpless, these two were masters. They could -beat the pygmies at their own game. - -“That’s three,” muttered the boy to himself. Then the essential need -to prevent the other two getting away to the main war parties of the -pygmies and telling them of their presence presented itself. It seemed -vital, to the boy’s imagination, and he even thought of sacrificing -himself by exposing his position to draw their fire, so that they could -be shot by the others and their plans for running the gantlet during -the storm could go through. - -He was maturing the idea, when a faint rustle in the jungle back of him -turned him around, with the hair rising under his helmet with alarm -and his pistol ready for instant fire. He saw Sadok’s sumpitan rise up -cautiously out of the green and lowered again, and the boy breathed -relievedly. Presently he caught a glimpse of the Dyak’s brown body -moving serpentlike toward the upas vine. Out of the depths between it -and the trunk of the larger tree overhead the leaves moved. Then came a -quick, silent jab of Sadok’s kriss into the blood-red bark of the vine. -It flashed down again, and Dwight could see the thick, white juice -oozing from the wound in the bark. Two brown hands rose out of the -foliage and tied on the tiny bamboo poison cup with gingerly care, and -then all signs of movement in that direction ceased. - -After a long wait, two low calls of the lory came out of the jungle -near by. Dwight answered them. - -“Come on out, Dwight,” came the curator’s voice. “They’re gone. We’re -over this way.” - -Dwight rose hesitatingly, inch by inch, half expecting every moment to -be pierced by a deadly arrow. Then came the exhilaration of freedom. -He felt wonderfully alive, eager and able to perform prodigies. He -sought out the party, stepping as if on air, his eyes sparkling with an -unearthly brilliance. The curator regarded him curiously as he came up. - -“Hel-lo! What’s struck you, old top?” he exclaimed, vivaciously. “You -look as if you’d seen an angel! Mostly devils around here. Baderoon -tells me there were only five of them. They ambushed him and trussed -him up before he could make a kick or a jump. We got two, and two more -got away. The third is outlying somewhere, with Sadok and Baderoon -looking for him.” - -“I got that one, myself,” said Dwight. “That was the pistol shot you -heard. He was walking just in front of Baderoon. And I found your upas -vine, too!” he cried, excitedly. - -“Ah, that accounts for it,” mused the curator. “Been lying near it a -long while?” - -“Accounts for what? Yes, I was right near it, ever since I fired that -shot.” - -“Accounts for your looking like a man who has eaten loco weed, son. -You’ll be lit up for a while yet; and you need to, for we’ve got to -make a dash, now that those two got away. There’s a faint essence of -strychnia in the air around the upas vine which acts like medicine on -a human being through the pores, Dwight,” he explained. “You’ll think -you can move mountains and perform prodigies of valor, for a time. Then -will come the reaction, like a man drunk with too much coffee. Well, -boys--let’s go.” - -He raised the lory call to bring in Sadok and Baderoon. They rejoined -the party soon, and Dwight noted that the former had the small tube of -fresh poison at his belt. - -The party pushed on vigorously. As they swept into the valley where -the pygmies were camped, thunderclouds gathered overhead and drops of -rain began to fall. It grew dark and compass ranges had to be corrected -again. Then came the tropical thunder and lightning with the blinding -downpour of rain, so that the three white men were glad to shroud -themselves in their tent flies. It was a weird march, through the -tossing forest, with rain swirling through the trunks in white sheets, -and flying dead branches crashing down through the grinding limbs. -Sadok and Baderoon flanked the party on ahead; so long as neither of -them came in, it was understood to be safe to push on at full speed. -Their course aimed to pass midway between two of the fires noted from -the mountain above, and then turn and strike direct for Cassowary -Camp. Baderoon was now well armed, with a bow and shield and plentiful -arrows taken from the slain pygmies, and Sadok’s quiver was full of -fresh darts, so that a feeling of elation filled them as they swept on. -The forest was noisy and windriven with the storm; the snap of broken -twigs and the rending of vines and creepers in their path did not have -to be guarded against now. Their only danger was in being seen by some -outlying scout, for whose abolishment they trusted their native allies. - -At length the curator pulled out his watch. - -“I think we’ve made it, boys!” he exulted. “At the rate we have been -going we must be well past those camps. We’ll bear over to the left -now, and pick up Sadok. Shove along, boys, faster!--so we can catch up -to him!” - -They ran through the jungle, bursting and tearing their way through the -undergrowth, twisting around trunks and dodging under creepers. Still -no Sadok. The curator called at intervals, and they pushed on, but no -reply came. Then he stopped and raised the lory screech at the top of -his lungs. - -It was answered by a faint, single call, a short distance ahead. With -a quick sense of foreboding they moved forward warily. Then their eyes -lit on a brown, muscular figure lying by a tree trunk in the dim light -of the roaring jungle--Sadok! - -They flung themselves on the ground with one common impulse, and crept -rapidly forward. Sadok was still alive when they reached him. His eyes -looked over at the curator sleepily. - -Then he pointed with three of his outstretched fingers, indicating the -directions with a significant brush of his left forefinger swept out -over the others. He fell over on his side with the effort and closed -his eyes. A long arrow stuck out from the tree over his head and its -carmine tip was covered with a whitish glaze that made one shiver to -look at it. Blood flowed from a slight scratch on Sadok’s shoulder, -where the arrow had merely scraped it. The curator leaped at the wound, -sucking fiercely at it. He shook Sadok roughly, and, reaching for -the medicine box in his hip pocket, poured a pellet into his hand and -forced it between the Dyak’s teeth. Then he rubbed a pinch of purple -powder into the cut and called on the boys to help. Together they -rolled him back and forth vigorously. While they were at it, another -arrow whizzed like a hornet between their heads. They dragged Sadok -behind the tree, while Nicky stood guard with his long-barreled .38. -He could see nothing in the direction the arrow had come from, but the -little hill men were somewhere around them now, that was certain. - -Between them, Dwight and the curator had got the Dyak moving feebly -again, and, dragging and pulling him roughly, they all managed to -crawl on through the jungle. Once lost in the underbrush, safety was -assured by vigilance, for their adversaries dared not show themselves, -either. It grew steadily darker, and the crash and boom of thunder -kept up unceasingly. Now and then the vivid flashes would light up the -dark glades and a black form would be seen through the trees, when the -insignificant _pop!_ of the pistols would ring out. - -“Now, boys, it’s dark enough to make time!” said the curator, halting -the party. “Here are two poles that I picked up while crawling along. -Make a stretcher of them, and you two carry Sadok, while I cover your -retreat.” - -They rolled a tent fly around the two poles and laid Sadok on the -narrow strip of canvas left in between them, while the curator crept -off into the jungle to reconnoiter. The crash of Nicky’s revolver in -his hands came to them once, and after a time he returned and they -rose to push on. The Dyak was heavy, and the two boys staggered along, -forcing their way through maddening vines and thorn ropes that tore at -them in the dark. Behind them, somewhere, was the curator, covering the -slow retreat, circling through the forest, occasionally visible when a -lightning flash lit up the jungle with its vivid glare. - -Once or twice the red flash of his pistol spat out in the dark, and -once the sharp blow of an arrow on his back caused Dwight to drop his -burden hastily, while Nicky tore it out of his clothing anxiously and -made sure that it had not penetrated to the skin. - -An hour passed, and then, utterly weary, the boys fell in a heap, -pulled down by the wrench of some particularly obstinate vine in their -path. They waited for the curator despondently. They could do no more. -Suddenly Sadok sat up, as if in a trance. He did not speak, but the -boys, delighted with this evidence of returning power, pounced on him -and pumped his arms and legs with all their strength. They were still -at it when the curator returned. - -“Glory, Mr. Baldwin--he’s coming round!” yelped Nicky, looking up from -his work. “He’s going to get over it!” - -“Looks promising!” smiled the curator, getting out another pellet to -give Sadok. “We can thank the rain for that! No arrow can stay virulent -long in this weather! Raise him to his feet and we’ll try to make him -walk.” - -They propped Sadok up and, half carrying him, half leading him, they -set out again. He staggered along as if walking in his sleep, leaning -heavily against first one and then the other of the boys. Gradually the -rain abated and the lightning flashes grew less frequent, so that it -was necessary for the curator to stop and crouch in the jungle to light -up the compass with his flasher concealed under the tent robe. Then -came pitch blackness, and the dripping silent jungle hid them like a -shroud. - -“I’m afraid we’ve lost Baderoon, boys,” whispered the curator during -a stop to take a bearing. “He had plenty of chance to locate us, back -there in the storm, we did so much firing. I’ve had to reload entirely, -once. You can’t have more than six shots left, Nick.” - -“I’ve got a clip and a half, sir,” interrupted Dwight, cheerily, “and -what is more, Sadok will be in shape again soon. I’ve noticed his -muscles flexing occasionally, of their own steam, while helping him -walk. Let’s go. We’ve got two good hours of this yet!” - -His artificial buoyancy and untiring energy were a great asset to the -tired party now, and they pushed on faster, with Sadok walking almost -normally. Mile after mile was passed, and then a glimpse of the stars -showed occasionally through the tree tops. They were tired to the -limit, but Dwight, under his strange stimulant, pushed on as fresh as -if just out of his sleeping bag. Dawn came at length, to sift its dim -light through the jungle. It found them still on the march, with Sadok -walking unaided, occasionally muttering an incoherent word of Malay. - -Then came the murmur of a brook and they burst out of the jungle, to -splash across it into the open glades, with the mountains towering all -around them, their tops hidden by the rising mists of early daylight. -The party heaved a huge sigh of relief as they stepped out into the -deep wet saw grass. They were about a mile above Cassowary Camp, and -it was their own stream that they had crossed. The country looked like -home, indeed, to them, for half a day’s march farther lay their base -camp, the canoe, and freedom. - - - - -XII - -THE ESCAPE TO ARU - - -Suddenly Sadok began to run. The boys attempted to restrain him, but -the curator held them off. - -“Let him alone, boys. His mentality’s coming back--it’s a good sign. -Wait.” - -They watched the Dyak, who was now running in a crouching position, his -long sumpitan trailing over the grass in his left hand. As he neared a -clump of trees out in the swales he dropped from sight in the grass, -his progress only marked by the waving of the blades. They searched the -tree carefully, but only what appeared to be a large black mass, well -hidden in the dense foliage, offered any possible mark. - -Then the sumpitan rose slowly out of the field, and presently a large -black bird tumbled down through the trees. The Dyak was on his feet in -an instant, dashed through the thicket, and seized his trophy. Then he -came back, holding it up triumphantly. - -“Me catch’m new spec’men, _Orang-kaya_!” he announced, exuberantly. -Gone was the dull, expressionless look in his eyes, replaced now by the -sparkling zest of the primitive hunter. - -“Boys, he’s got a long-tailed bird of paradise, by Jove!” cried the -curator, excitedly. “Rarer than the superba! Great work, Sadok!” - -They all ran to him and examined the prize. It was of glossy black, -with bronze and purple glories of peacock-coal hues, making the -feathers iridescent with changeable colors. A superb tail of feathers -two feet long, and the side plumage brushed back, as it were, to form -tufts of plumage along both sides of the back, completed the bird’s -extraordinary ornaments. - -“Almost makes you forget the pygmies, eh, Sadok?” grinned the curator, -suggestively. - -The Dyak’s face looked blank. Then his memory began slowly, painfully -to work, and he put up his hand slowly and felt the bandage on his -shoulder. Gradually his expression changed to comprehension, anger, -disgust. - -“Ugh!” he shuddered. “Me kill’m two--t’ree! Then me know nothing. Me -come hit--arrow?” he asked. - -“Yep. We found you. Carried you through the jungle for miles. Me cure’m -upas [poison]. All well now!” - -A kind of wonder grew in the Dyak’s eyes. It was the first time in his -experience that any man had survived a poisoned arrow. - -“_Orang-kaya!_ him know everyt’ing!” he cried. “Him God--big-fellah!” -He stooped down and embraced the curator’s knees adoringly. - -“Here! Cut it!” said the curator, embarrassed, as he disengaged -himself, and there were tears in his eyes. “God Him _great_ big-fellah, -Sadok! Him live in sky. Him hold the world in his hand, so, Sadok,” -holding out his cupped hand. “Him make you-fellah save my life, plenty -much; make me-fellah save your life! Me tell you ’bout Him, some -day, Sadok,” he said, affectionately, laying his hand on the Dyak’s -shoulder. “Gad! and I don’t know any greater pleasure than _that_ will -be, either!” he exclaimed, under his breath. “A man’s God is what I -will show him! Come on, fellows!” he broke off, hastily. “We got to -shove along; it would be death to be caught in these open swales.” - -The party marched on down toward the old site of Cassowary Camp, -and were soon at the familiar grounds where so many adventures had -befallen them and so many happy days spent in collecting. The mountain -loomed up invitingly behind it, and the curator led the way up the -slopes. - -Dwight felt himself stumbling unaccountably. His eyesight appeared -to be wavering, and the bushes that he grasped at to aid in climbing -seemed to elude his grasp. - -“Mr. Baldwin, quick! I’m fainting!” he gasped, weakly, and he pitched -forward on his face, his arms still reaching uphill. - -They all stopped. - -“The reaction has come,” said the curator. “He’ll be better soon. I -think we can risk an hour’s stop and get some rest and something to -eat.” - -His eye roved the mountain side, and finally rested on a rocky ledge -with bowlders and thickets of thorny bushes on its brink. - -“Carry him up there,” he ordered. “We’ll dig in there and lay low for a -bit.” - -They brought him up, and the curator applied restoratives, while Nicky -and Sadok busied themselves in rolling bowlders and making the place -as impregnable as possible. Then Nicky got out his alcohol kit, with -a joke or two about its being the only camp fire worth a whoop, and -started cooking a soup for all, composed of dried pemmican and soup -powder. - -The site commanded the swales below for miles. To the left lay the -pebbly bars of the creek, with the old trail of the Outanatas entering -the jungle like a green tunnel. With ammunition, they could hold this -place for a long time, at least until flanking parties had ascended the -mountain back of them, but their supply was now reduced to only a few -cartridges. - -The curator studied the situation over uneasily. - -“I do wish Dwight could move!” he said to Nicky at his right. “We -might try carrying him, but it seems suicidal to me. The pygmies are -coming, sure as death, and they’ll move much faster than we could go -with a burden. We’d be overtaken before we got halfway back to the -canoe. We’ll have to stay here and fight. After the ammunition is all -gone, every man make for that canoe at top speed. The first one there -will get sail on her and wait until forced to draw out to the lagoon. -That is about all I can plan ahead at the present. Too bad we lost -Baderoon,” he sighed. “That was the finest black boy I ever knew! -No one who ever knew that happy, rollicking native could help loving -him--and I rather depended on him getting through and bringing up the -Outanatas.” - -He went over to where Dwight lay in the shade of a bush. - -“How’s it coming, old man?” - -“I’m weak as a cat,” said Dwight, lifelessly. “I can’t even move that -arm. Pull it in out of the sun and lay it across my chest, won’t you?” -he begged, querulously. - -The curator shook his head. It would be at least another hour before -Dwight could even move his own legs. The curator fidgeted with -impatience as he cursed the upas vine and all its relatives. Hours -were precious as dear life, now. He had about decided on a scheme for -pushing along and carrying Dwight in relays, when a low whistle from -Nicky brought him to his feet. - -“Here they come, sir!” announced the boy, tensely. - -He peered out of their lair. A long line of the little black men swept -across the upper swales, arrows on bows, walking about fifteen feet -apart, searching warily every foot of the grass. More burst out of the -jungle along the creek every few moments, and far to the right, other -parties could be seen beating across the jungle toward the banyan-tree -mountain. Nothing could escape such a dragnet! - -They watched them impotently, as the warriors slowly worked down the -swales toward their position. There were at least fifty of them in the -line that finally reached the site of Cassowary Camp. Then they began -to slowly filter up the mountain side. - -“Now’s our only chance!” said the curator in a low voice. “Sadok, you -pick off any that come near this position, or any that seem likely to -discover us, and we’ll hope that the rest may go by without finding us.” - -“How about their finding the canoe before we do?” suggested Nicky, -eagerly. - -“I’ve thought of that. We’ve got to move as soon as they pass us, and -get Dwight along somehow. Sadok and I will carry him. We’ll have to -beat ’em to it.” - -A pygmy came out of the bushes directly below him, and his little black -eyes popped with sudden discovery. Before he could utter a yell a dart -from Sadok’s sumpitan ended him. Then another appeared, working uphill -to their right, and he, too, was tumbled over in a silent heap. The -curator felt a touch on his arm. He turned his head, to see Dwight, who -had crawled over on hands and knees, and he was pointing up to their -left with a look of horror in his eyes. There stood a pygmy in plain -sight in the act of raising the warwhoop! - -[Illustration: THE PISTOLS BARKED IN UNISON WITH THE HIGH-PITCHED YELL -THAT THE MAN LET OUT] - -The pistols barked in unison with the high-pitched yell that the man -let out. There were swift rustlings all over the mountain side, and -a knot of warriors below charged up the hill, shouting their battle -cries. The curator dropped a shell on them. A great brown geyser -of earth and stones obliterated the group, simultaneous with its -thundering report, and the jungle below burst into flames with the -intense heat of the explosion. In another instant there was not a pygmy -in sight anywhere on the whole landscape. - -“Now, then, cut and run for it!” hissed the curator. “Make for the -canoe, Nick, and get sail on her. We’ll come along with Dwight, -somehow!” - -Nicky darted off into the jungle to their left, while Sadok and the -curator hoisted Dwight to his feet and started off along the rocky -side of the mountain. They saw a party of the pygmies scuttling along -in the valley below to get ahead of them. Stopping an instant to -aim, the curator drove another shell down on them. Its detonation was -followed by a sudden silence, and then out of the green depths of the -jungle across the creek burst a full, deep-throated war chant. - - “Ko! Ko! Ko! - Hy-_yah!_ Hy-_yah!_ Hy-_yah!_ - To-yah-hyah! To-yah-hyah! - Ko! Ko! Ko!” - -The curator stopped, exulting. These were _men_!--not the little, -dwarfed aborigines of the hills, but big, tall, deep-chested men--the -Outanatas! - -He scarce dared to hope. An arrow whispered through the jungle over -his shoulder, but he heeded it not, his eyes fixed on that open green -tunnel that opened out on the creek bank. The marching song continued, -and he got glimpses of spears and white-scrolled shields moving along -through the greens of the forest below. Then a tall chief stood in the -mouth of the tunnel, his face hideously streaked with white marks, and, -hanging like an apron from his girdle, was the curator’s flaming red -bandanna. It was the war chief of the Outanatas--and behind him came -Baderoon, pointing and urging them on vigorously! - -The curator cupped his hands. - -“Baderoon! Baderoon! Here we are!” he yelled. Then he and Sadok laid -Dwight down under a rock ledge and sought ambushes. Yells and war cries -sounded from the mountain side all about them as the long line of -Outanata warriors splashed across the creek, brandishing their weapons. -Parties of pygmies formed for the assault in the swales. The occasional -cough of Sadok’s sumpitan at different places on the mountain showed -that he was outlying and picking off men here and there. - -Then a knot of the pygmies gathered below the curator, evidently bent -on taking the Outanatas in the rear. He aimed carefully into the midst -of them and fired his third shell. Its stunning report was the signal -for a general attack, for the Outanatas dashed out into the grass -country, a cloud of arrows preceding them, while javelins soared and -poised in the air, to sink out of sight in the long grass. - -Baderoon came running up the hill through the jungle. - -“Me get’m! Me fetch’m, _Orang-kaya_! Come! No good for white man be -here.” He was fully armed, and exuberant with delight and high spirits. -The curator called in Sadok, and they raised Dwight to his feet and -set off at full speed, with the Dyak covering their retreat. The boy -was fast getting his strength back now, and they went along rapidly. -As they left the plateau the curator looked back. The whole country -behind him was full of tall and short black men, fighting like demons, -catching arrows on ready shields, jabbing at each other with long -spears, and occasionally the white flash of a bamboo knife would tell -where one of a pair had come off victorious. - -That was his last glimpse of Papuan and pygmy, for the way led down -abruptly into their valley, and soon they were crossing the strip of -deep jungle and had arrived on the coral bank. A shout for Nicky, -answered by a low whistle, brought them to the stream bank, where the -old white sail of the small proa showed up through the thickets. Nicky -had already gotten the crate aboard and was all ready to shove off. -They tumbled in, and Baderoon took the helm, while Sadok drew in the -sheet rope. The creek banks slid swiftly by, and presently they were -out in the lagoon and headed down it toward the capes of the open sea. - -“Good-by, New Guinea!” shouted the curator, waving his hand at the -column of smoke that rose far back in the hills. “Some day the white -race will need you--but it’s a long, long way off yet, boys!” he -laughed, dropping his voice. “And now let’s have those cinnabar -specimens,” he added, as the proa swept along like a swallow under the -fresh breeze. “Mum’s the word about them, everybody,” he warned. “It’s -the one big secret of the expedition.” - -“I suppose we’ll see you next as president of the New Guinea Mining -Company, Limited, Mr. Baldwin?” laughed Nicky, who was busily whittling -at a short bamboo stick he had brought aboard. - -“That opens up a big subject, boys,” answered the curator, seriously. -“If either of you want a big position in such a company, just say the -word and it’s yours. You’ll be rich and prosperous beyond your dreams.” - -“And you, Mr. Baldwin?” inquired Dwight, curiously. - -“Such temptations are not for me,” replied the curator. “When I’ve -reported this thing to certain financiers, I’m through. My whole -life has been that of a scientist, a seeker after knowledge. When I -have found a new thing my interest in it ceases. As a wanderer and an -explorer I am happy; as a wealthy mine owner I’d be miserable. All my -education has been in the service of science; it’s the only life for -me.” - -“Me, too!” grunted Nicky, splitting his bamboo wand and sticking a -small sliver in it to hold it open. “And, there’s one specimen from New -Guinea that I _didn’t_ get, and that’s a sea snake. You can have your -mine for all of me!” - -“By George! that’s the way I feel, too!” exclaimed Dwight. “The -engineers and the moneyed men can have Red Mountain, for all I care. -I’d far rather collect a new butterfly in some out-of-the-way hole -than own a million dollars. All I want is to be with you on your next -expedition, Mr. Baldwin.” - -The curator looked into their eyes understandingly. - -“It’s the way we naturalists all feel,” he said, appreciatively. -“Enough to live on and the chance to do something for science is -happiness to us. Sadok and I are going into the interior of Borneo -next, and I’d be delighted to have you with me. Your characters are -pretty well formed now; all this that we’ve gone through has simply -hardened them, so I know I can depend on you--and that’s the most -precious knowledge any man can have--” - -“_There’s_ one! Port your helm, Baderoon!” came from Nicky. They looked -around, to see a sea snake swimming carelessly along, his head a foot -out of the water. He was afraid of nothing and stuck out his tongue -warningly as the proa sheered toward him. Then his oarlike tail flashed -into swift motion and he shot along by their gunwale, but Nicky was too -quick for him, and with a swift jab of his wand brought him aboard, -squirming and striking furiously from the cleft in which he was caught. - -“Look out! He’s highly venomous!” warned Nicky, coming aft. “Watch -out--he’s getting away!” - -The snake dropped to the bottom of the canoe and darted up its side. -With a swift clip of the rod Nicky broke his neck, and the “specimen” -lay squirming aimlessly in the bottom of the boat as they all watched -it narrowly. - -“He’ll be ready for skinning out presently,” chirped Nicky, cheerily. -“As a snakist I’ve got you fellows backed into the cellar!” - -The proa had now run down opposite the capes, and the swell of the open -sea slid her about like an airplane. That mountainous coast is always -windy and stormy, and it was making the usual squally weather now. The -proa bucked and plunged like a racehorse, her lee outrigger buried in -foam, the weather one clipping the tops of combers, while the three -whites sat out on the bamboo wings that hung out from each side on the -outrigger braces like a basket. It was a wild and exceedingly wet ride, -the proa careening down the wave slopes like a hawk and soaring almost -bodily out of water when lifted up on the white-capped combers. - -The land dropped swiftly astern; towering up into heavy banks of clouds -rose the dark ranges of the Charles Louis Mountains, with the woolly -pyramids of the afternoon thunderheads gathering in the sky back over -the interior. It was their last look at Dutch New Guinea, for soon the -cloud banks lowered and ugly squall clouds, like long dark cigars, -swept across the horizon, shutting them in in the gray circle of the -sea. A chip thrown over the side and timed by the curator’s watch -showed a speed of nearly ten knots. At that rate they would reach Aru -at night--a landfall that would be dangerous in the extreme until the -stars came out and the sea went down. - -Accordingly, the curator shortened sail, reefing the lateen down to -half its original bulk. The proa now labored and wallowed, keeping at -least one of them bailing vigorously. She was an able boat in the eyes -of her original owners, no doubt; but then water, more or less, was -nothing in their naked philosophy! - -Then came the rain, beating the sea flat and drenching them to the -skin. Through the smother of it the proa drove on steadily, laying her -course for Aru as close as possible on the starboard tack. Later fell a -flat calm and the stars came out. She rolled incredibly in the smooth, -welling billows, but gradually these went down, until by midnight all -was quiet and they lay drifting idly on the black bosom of the Banda -Sea. Now and then the phosphorescent wake of a large shark would pass -them, but finally this interest, too, waned, and everyone fell asleep -except the curator, who had volunteered to take the watch. - -He sat dreaming under the stars, the sail hanging out idly and scarcely -straightening the sheet. A gentle gurgle of phosphorescent fire eddied -from the captured Papuan paddle that they had used for a rudder. The -dim forms of his companions lay huddled in the dark, lying on the -bamboo framework over the outrigger poles. - -The curator regarded them with feelings of quiet satisfaction. Their -dash into Dutch New Guinea had been a success. They had brought back an -immensely valuable natural-history collection, and mineral information -to the world that would soon add a vigorous trade settlement to those -two forlorn Dutch military posts, six hundred miles apart, on a wild -and savage coast. But above all he rejoiced in the spiritual results -of the expedition with deepest pride. Those two boys had shown courage -and resourcefulness far beyond their years; they had faced privation, -danger, and battle with a grit and determination, a cheerfulness and -lack of grouch, that had proved them men after his own heart. And -to serve the cause of science they had refused the opportunity for -fabulous wealth and all the ease and comfort that money can give. -With them and his two devoted natives the curator felt that he had a -scientific organization that would do. Yes, it would do mighty well! - -He smoked on, thinking silently as the hours slipped by. Finally a -light breeze, the precursor of dawn, sprang up, and the proa slipped -quietly along, little rills of water trickling against her planks. It -grew light in the east, and after a time out of the mists in the west -developed the solid cloud banks, pierced with pale outlines of islets, -hill, and jungle, of the shore line of Aru. - -“Land ho!” yelled the curator, waking them all up. “Here’s Aru, boys, -dead ahead, and we’ve beaten our proa that was to have come for us by -two days!” - - -THE END - - - - -HARPER’S “TELL-ME-HOW” SERIES - - -_HARPER’S EVERY-DAY ELECTRICITY_ - -By DON CAMERON SHAFER - -_Describes all electrical apparatus in common use. Each chapter -contains various examples and experiments, amply illustrated with -line-drawings._ - - -_HARPER’S WIRELESS BOOK_ - -By ALPHEUS HYATT VERRILL - -_Part I deals with Principles and Mechanism of Wireless; Part II, -Operation and Use of Wireless; Part III, Wireless Telephone; Part IV, -Wireless Power Transmission._ - - -_HARPER’S BEGINNING ELECTRICITY_ - -By DON CAMERON SHAFER - -_It is an introduction to electricity, written simply to show boys -how the wonderful force may be looked upon as a friend, and even a -playmate._ - - -_HARPER’S GASOLINE ENGINE BOOK_ - -By ALPHEUS HYATT VERRILL - -_A simple and practical guide for all those who own, use, or operate -gas and gasoline motors. While intended for boys, it will prove of -equal value to older readers._ - - -_HARPER’S AIRCRAFT BOOK_ - -By ALPHEUS HYATT VERRILL - -_The six divisions of the book are: Why the Aeroplane Flies, Model -Aeroplanes, Gliders or Non-propelled Aeroplanes, Various Types of -Aeroplanes. Hydro-aeroplanes, and Uses of the Aeroplane._ - - -Each Volume Fully Illustrated. Crown 8vo - - HARPER & BROTHERS - NEW YORK ESTABLISHED 1817 LONDON - - - - -HARPER’S CAMP LIFE SERIES - - -_CAMPING ON THE GREAT RIVER_ - -BY RAYMOND S. SPEARS - -_A farmer’s son ventures out into the great world to make a man of -himself and succeeds. He embarks in a shanty-boat and sails down the -Ohio and Mississippi, where he has all kinds of adventures which will -make the boy-reader long to imitate him._ - - -_CAMPING ON THE GREAT LAKES_ - -BY RAYMOND S. SPEARS - -_A story of self-reliance and independence as well as adventure. Will -Sayne and Miles Breton take a voyage of discovery from Ontario and -Erie, through Huron to the vast stretch of Lake Superior. They become -involved innocently in smugglers’ plots._ - - -_CAMPING IN THE WINTER WOODS_ - -BY ELMER RUSSELL GREGOR - -_The story of two boys who are granted the privilege of a winter of -hunting and trapping in the Maine woods under the tuition of their -father’s famous guide, Old Ben. It is not only a fine story but is -filled with the information about wild animals and woodcraft that boys -love._ - - -_CAMPING ON WESTERN TRAILS_ - -BY ELMER RUSSELL GREGOR - -_The same two boys spend a summer in the Rocky Mountains, shoot -mountain-lions and wolves, secure photographs of mountain-sheep and -bears, pan gold in cañon streams, and are nearly suffocated in a forest -fire._ - -_Illustrated. Post 8vo_ - - HARPER & BROTHERS - NEW YORK ESTABLISHED 1817 LONDON - - - - -HARPER’S PRACTICAL BOOKS - - - _HARPER’S BOOK FOR YOUNG GARDENERS_ - _HARPER’S INDOOR BOOKS FOR BOYS_ - _HARPER’S OUTDOOR BOOK FOR BOYS_ - _HARPER’S CAMPING AND SCOUTING_ - _HARPER’S BOATING BOOK FOR BOYS_ - _HARPER’S ELECTRICITY BOOK FOR BOYS_ - _HARPER’S BOOK FOR YOUNG NATURALISTS_ - _HARPER’S HOW TO UNDERSTAND ELECTRICAL WORK_ - _HARPER’S MACHINERY BOOK FOR BOYS_ - _HARPER’S HANDY-BOOK FOR GIRLS_ - _THE STORY OF OUR GREAT INVENTIONS_ - _MOTOR-BOATING FOR BOYS_ - -Each Volume Fully Illustrated. Crown 8vo - - - HARPER & BROTHERS - NEW YORK ESTABLISHED 1817 LONDON - - - - -FAMOUS BOOKS ILLUSTRATED BY - -LOUIS RHEAD - - - _KIDNAPPED_ - _LAMB’S TALES FROM SHAKESPEARE_ - _THE ARABIAN NIGHTS_ - _TREASURE ISLAND_ - _GULLIVER’S TRAVELS_ - _TOM BROWN’S SCHOOL DAYS_ - _HANS ANDERSEN’S FAIRY TALES_ - _SWISS FAMILY ROBINSON_ - _ROBIN HOOD_ - _ROBINSON CRUSOE_ - _GRIMM’S FAIRY TALES_ - -All these volumes are fully illustrated with numerous full-page -drawings and many decorations. 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