Chapter XX: The Raposa

McKay and Lourenço, in a broad, low, musty-smelling room, faced a man who stood and a man who sat. The man who stood was the old savage who could talk in the Mayoruna language. The man who sat was the chief of the Red Bones.

In his first words to the visitors the old interpreter revealed that the name of the Red Bone ruler was Umanuh. Later on Lourenço informed McKay that in the Tupi lengoa geral of the Amazonian Indians (which, however, was not spoken by this tribe) the word “umanuh” meant “corpse.” And whatever the name may have signified in the language of the Red Bones, its Tupi definition fitted with disagreeable precision. For Umanuh was a living cadaver.

Gaunt, gray skinned, lank haired, hollow of cheek and eye, with thin, cruel lips so tight drawn that the teeth behind seemed to show through, ribs projecting, clawlike hands resting on bony knees, his whole frame motionless as that of a man long dead, the head man of the bone-dyeing tribe was the antithesis of both the piggish Suba and the herculean Monitaya. Only his eyes lived; and those eyes were cold and merciless as those of a snake or a vulture. A man who ruled by ruthless cunning, who would gaze unmoved on the most ghastly tortures, who would devour human flesh with ghoulish relish--such was the creature who sat in a red-dyed hammock and contemplated the impassive face of McKay.

“Umanuh, great chief, eater of his enemies, with fangs of the jaguar and wisdom of the great snake, awaits the greeting of the one-whose-hair grows-from-his-mouth,” droned the old mouthpiece of the chief.

“Makkay, leader of the fighting men of the Blackbeards, whose voice is the thunder and whose hand spits lightning and death, gives greeting to Umanuh,” responded Lourenço in a like droning tone.

A pause. Umanuh gave no sign of life. McKay, straight and cold, met the unwinking stare of the chief with his own chill gray gaze. Between the two who spoke not was a testing of wills.

“Makkay brings with him none of the Blackbeard warriors,” pointed out the interpreter, who seemed to know his master’s thought. “He comes with only the jungle men of light skins.”

“Makkay needs none of his own warriors when he comes in peace. If he came in war the terrible Blackbeards with him would cause the whole forest to fly apart in smoke and flame. Since he walks in peace to visit his friend Umanuh, of whose wisdom he has heard, he brings only his friends the Mayorunas, who are friends also to the men of the Red Bones.”

Another pause. The old man now seemed somewhat uncertain of himself. The silent duel between McKay and Umanuh went on. At length the chief’s eyes flickered a trifle. In a hissing whisper he said something.

“The men of the Mayorunas never come to this country unless seeking something,” the interpreter promptly spoke up. “What do they seek?”

“Only that which Makkay seeks.”

Then, turning to the captain, the Brazilian added: “Capitao, we now have reached the point to talk business. Have you any presents? And is it your wish to give them now or later?”

“I have a few things. But I’ll give them later--if at all. This chief is hostile. Tell him what we’re here for and see how he acts.”

“It has come to the ears of Makkay,” Lourenço informed the man of Umanuh, “that a man of the Blackbeards lives among the men of the Red Bones. Makkay would see that man.”

Again the interpreter awaited his master’s voice before answering.

“No man of the Blackbeards is among the men of Umanuh,” he then denied.

“If he is not among them he is near them,” was Lourenço’s certain reply. “He has been seen both by other Blackbeards and by the Mayorunas. I, too, have seen him. He bears on his bones the sign that his mind is out of his skull. His eyes are green and his hair touched with white. Umanuh and his men know well that I speak true.”

The pause this time was longer than before.

“There was such a man, but he is gone.”

“Then Makkay asks his friend Umanuh to find that one. A chief so wise can easily find him where others would see only water and mud.”

“If he could be found what would the great Blackbeard leader do with him?”

Lourenço thought swiftly. To say the Raposa was McKay’s friend would do little good. Friendship meant nothing to this unfeeling brute. Therefore the bushman insinuated something which his cruel mind could comprehend.

“If a Red Bone man abandoned his people and went to another tribe, what would Umanuh do to him when he was found?”

A cold glimmer in the chief’s eyes showed that he thought he understood. Moreover, he would much like to see what sort of torture this hard-faced Blackbeard would use on a fugitive. It might be something even more fiendish than his own pastimes. So the next reply came promptly.

“If that man is found the blackbeard will pay for him?”

“There are gifts of friendship for Umanuh,” Lourenço nodded.

“The Blackbeard leader will pay more than the other Blackbeard?”

Lourenço almost blinked. What other Blackbeard? The Raposa himself? But the Brazilian repressed his bewilderment.

“Makkay will first see the man to make sure he is the Blackbeard whom Makkay wants,” he dodged. “Then he will pay well.”

“Umanuh will see the gifts now.”

“The gifts cannot be shown now. They are packed away. When Makkay has looked on the man Umanuh shall look on the gifts.”

Another eye duel between the chief and McKay. As before, the captain’s eye proved the harder.

“Umanuh will think of the matter. Night comes. The man hunted by the Blackbeard is not here. The Blackbeard and his men may stay to-night across the water. When the sun rises again Umanuh will talk further.”

“It is well. Let Umanuh tell his men to stay on this side of the water, that we may not mistake them in the night for enemies.”

When Umanuh had hissed assent the old man stepped to the doorway and summoned the hatchet-faced warrior. To him instructions were given. He turned and carried the commands to the tribesmen.

“Makkay wishes Umanuh peaceful rest,” said Lourenço. With which he flicked his eyes toward the door. McKay, with stiff stride, stalked out. Lourenço followed. Both felt the snake eyes of the cadaverous chief dwelling on their backs.

To the waiting Knowlton, Pedro, and Tucu it was briefly explained that preliminary negotiations had been concluded and that camp now would be made on the farther side of the creek. Tucu, observing that the Red Bone mass behind was dividing again to let the visitors pass through, gave the word to his men. The column began to move out, marching in reverse order. Pedro muttered swiftly to his partner.

“Lourenço, see that house with the barred door where the clubman stands guard. Remember where it is.”

The other swept the loop in one quick glance, located the house, and fell into step without a word, the guarded structure fixed on his brain as clearly as if he had studied it for an hour. Walking down the malodorous street, he said, quietly, “There will be a small moon to-night.”

“You are becoming a reader of the mind, comrade,” Pedro grinned. No more was said.

Down to the shore of the creek trooped the party, followed closely by the hatchet-face and a score of tribesmen. The whites and the Mayorunas got into half a dozen of the waiting canoes and paddled across. In other dugouts the Red Bone men also crossed, but they did not land. As soon as the borrowed boats were empty the tribesmen took them in tow and returned to their own bank. The visitors were left on a partly cleared shore, separated from their uncordial hosts by some twenty yards of deep water. Not one canoe was left them. Furthermore, the Red Bones now began activities indicating an intention to establish a night-longwatch on the irside of the stream.

“Taking no chances of our raiding them to-night, or even snooping around town,” said Knowlton. “Keeping everything in their own hands. Reckon we’d better post sentries to-night, Rod, just to keep an eye on that outpost of theirs.”

McKay nodded.

“We four will take it in turn,” he agreed. “Lourenço--Pedro--you--I. Three-hour tours.”

“Pardon, Capitao,” interposed Pedro. “It would be well to change that. You two senhores take the first two watches.”

“Why?” frowned McKay.

“Because Lourenço and I wish to go visiting. We are much smitten with the charms of the ladies here.”

The captain’s frown deepened, but he studied Pedro’s devil-may-care face keenly before answering.

“Humph! What’s up your sleeve? Out with it!”

Pedro glanced around him and across the water. The tribesmen, both of the Mayoruna force and of the Red Bones, were watching the colloquy.

“We are watched, Capitao. Let us make camp now and talk later. These men do not understand our words, but we cannot tell what they may see in our faces. Now speak harshly, as if I had been insolent.”

McKay did. He thundered at the young bushman as if about to do him bodily injury.

Pedro retreated a step, as if taken aback by the storm he had unleashed. When McKay stopped he replied: “Excellent, Capitao. Now I go to start work on the tambo.”

He trudged away with a sullen gait. On both sides of the stream the Indians muttered and looked at the tall commander with increased respect. Truly, the Blackbeard was a fierce ruler and one who must not be angered; he had the voice of a great gun and the temper of a jaguar. That other man was lucky to have his head still on his shoulders!

When the camp was made at the edge of the bush and the four comrades were grouped in their hammocks, Lourenço narrated in detail the conversation with Umanuh. Knowlton reciprocated with news of what he and Pedro had seen at the corner of the barred house.

“I almost jumped after him, Rod,” he admitted. “Had all I could do to hold myself. But I knew anything sudden like that might start war right there, and we wouldn’t have a Chinaman’s chance of getting away with him, so I stood fast. But he’s here, and old Umanuh’s a liar by the clock if he says otherwise.”

“He is the same man we saw in the forest, Lourenço, or my eyes are twisted,” added Pedro.