Chapter XXI: Shadows of the Night

“Rod! Wake up!”

The tense whisper aroused McKay instantly. With one sweep of the arm his net was torn aside and he leaped out with pistol drawn.

“Right, Merry. What is it?”

“We’ve got him! Look!”

The electric ray again streaked the gloom. The astounded captain did not drop his gun, but he came near it. For a long minute he stood as in a trance. When he attempted to holster his weapon he fumbled three times for the sheath before he found it.

“Whew!” he breathed. “Have you killed him?”

“Nope--don’t think so. Lord! I hope not! Now that I think of it, I did give him a mighty solid smash. Used the butt. He was crawling in here, and naturally I didn’t stop to ask for his card. Feel his head.”

McKay complied. His exploring fingers found only a huge bump under the thick hair.

“No, his skull’s whole. Didn’t even split the scalp. You crowned him hard, but unless he got concussion he’s still useful. His nosebleed comes from hitting the ground, I think. Turn off the light. Are you still on guard?”

“Yes. The Brazilians are out.”

“Take a turn and see that all’s clear. Can’t tell what might break any minute now. Leave your flash here.”

Passing the flat, nickel light-box to the captain, Knowlton retrieved his gun from the ground and resumed his patrol. Slight as the disturbance had been, uneasiness was in the air. The savages on the far shore were up, peering at the tambo and muttering to one another. Measuring the distance, the lieutenant saw that, though they had undoubtedly seen the flashlight switched on and off and made out the movements of men, they could not have discerned what lay on the ground beyond the hammocks. Nearer at hand, Tucu and a couple of the Mayorunas were awake and looking out. But the sight of the sentinel strolling up and down in apparent unconcern and the absence of light in the tambo gradually quieted the suspicions on both sides of the water. Soon the Red Bones squatted again and the Mayorunas lay back with minds at ease.

Then a dim sheen of light showed for a time at the back of the white men’s shelter, fading out after a few minutes into the usual gloom. McKay had pulled a blanket over himself and the unconscious man, masking his torch glare from any watching eye while he studied the face and form of the invader. After the faint radiance vanished certain sounds came to the sentry’s ears. Then McKay’s tall figure loomed in the vague moonshine. Knowlton stopped beside him.

“It’s Rand,” the captain vouchsafed in an undertone. “No question of it. Features identical, though face is drawn. White hair mark, broken nose, green eyes. I opened one eye. Got a bad foot, partly healed; looks as if he’d torn it on a stub. Poor devil seems nearly starved.”

“So? Then that’s why he sneaked in like that--wanted to steal some grub. Those mutts over yonder probably haven’t fed him since he got hurt.”

“That’s it. He’s had to do his own foraging, and his foot has given him mighty little chance. Damn those brutes!”

“Right! But now what? Look out that he doesn’t sneak away again.”

“He won’t. I tied his feet. He’s in Pedro’s hammock, still dead to the world. If he wakes up and starts to yell I’ll gag him. We’ve got to get away now as soon as we can.”

“How?”

“Don’t know. By water, perhaps. Wish those bushman were here. Haven’t heard any noise over there, have you?”

“All quiet. They’re safe--or dead.”

“Hm! Confounded foolishness, anyway. But we’ve no means of getting out until they’re back. Couldn’t desert them, besides. What time is it?”

“Ten-thirty. You go on watch at midnight.”

“I’m on watch now, inside. They may be back any time. If they don’t show up in the next couple of hours I’ll send Tucu to find out why. We’ll have to get those canoes over here, too. Water leaves no trail.”

He turned back into the hut, leaving Knowlton figuring chances. To obtain those canoes was a man-sized job. To put the Red Bone guards out of action without arousing the whole tribe was an even bigger job. But no boats could be brought over until the outpost was silenced, that was sure.

Another half-hour crept past. Still no noise from the town, no suspicious move on the other shore. Then from the tambo itself came a low mumble of voices. Knowlton stepped swiftly into it. As noiselessly as they had gone the two bushmen had returned.

In his usual concise phrases McKay was informing them of the capture of the Raposa. With his back to the stream and the flashlight held close to his body, he played the light for an instant on the face of the still unconscious man. Then, once more in darkness, he asserted:

“Now that we have him, we must get out of here. Only chance to do that is to get the canoes. With them we can at least be away from this town by sunrise, and it will take the Red Bones just so much longer to find our trail where we take to the bush. We’ll get a flying start that way. Anything else to suggest?”

“That is the best plan, Capitao,” Lourenço agreed. For the first time since the Americans had known him his voice held a note of suppressed excitement. “It is the only plan worth while. And I do not think we shall have to take to our legs soon--if at all. I believe this creek connects with that which flows past the Monitaya malocas. We have learned some things. Por Deus! If only we had known the Raposa was here!”

“Why?”

“Because then we could have brought company with us. Senhores, guess what the barred house holds.”

“Well?”

“Women of the Mayorunas! Girls stolen from Monitaya and other settlements!”

“Jumping Judas!” ejaculated Knowlton. “Are you sure?”

“Sure, comrades! These foul Red Bones are the men who have been lurking around the Mayoruna tribe houses and capturing girls who went into the bush. They have taken the prisoners to the water, where the trails always were lost and where they could find hiding places until night, then drive their canoes past the clearings and get out of that country. So there must be some water connection by which these men travel, and by which we too can travel. If we go downstream we are almost sure to find it by daylight.”

“But why--what’s the idea of their stealing the girls? For victims? If so, how are the girls still alive?”

“Do you not see, senhor?” Pedro broke in, impatiently. “Did not Umanuh ask if we would pay more than the other Blackbeard for the Raposa? What other Blackbeard?”

“Schwandorf!” the Americans blurted, simultaneously.

“Not so loud! Schwandorf, of course! Umanuh works with the German. He catches girls by stealth and sells them to the German to add to his slave gangs. While the Mayorunas all blame the Peruvians for the disappearances, Umanuh works unsuspected. He is holding these women until Schwandorf comes again--and it may be that Schwandorf is not far off at this moment. Now that we have come seeking the wild man, Umanuh at once thinks of selling him also; and he wonders whether we or Schwandorf will pay the more for him.”

“By thunder! I believe you’re right!” Knowlton coincided. “He’s stalling for time, holding us here while Schwandorf comes up, I’ll bet. No wonder he and his men are wary of the Mayorunas--they thought we’d come to snoop around and catch ‘em with the goods. You fellows must have done a mighty slick job to find out this stuff without getting caught. Isn’t the house guarded at night?”

“Indeed it is! Two clubmen are there now, and there is only the one door. Not even a window. But Lourenço worked a small hole between two logs at the back while I watched the clubmen, and through the hole he whispered with one of the women inside. If only we had known the wild man was here we could have jumped the guards and tried to bring back the women. But of course your business about the Raposa had to be thought of first, so all we could do was to tell them friends were here.”

For a few seconds there was the silence of thought. Then Knowlton chuckled.

“I’ll say we have our hands full this night. Now we not only have to get ourselves and Rand out of here, but also rescue the fair damsels from the clutches of the ogre. ‘Twon’t do to leave them here while we go back to Monitaya and get the rest of his army. By the time we could come back they’d be gone--one way or another. What’s done has to be done now or never.”

“Right!” McKay commended. “We’ll have to save the women, of course. Question is--how?”

Lourenço answered at once.

“My idea, Capitao, is this: We two will return. With us we will take Tucu. The three of us can handle those guards quietly. We must have Tucu, because the women do not know us and might balk at the last moment. Women are queer creatures, and these might think themselves safer inside prison walls than following two strange men through the night; but Tucu can handle them. When once we are clear of the houses Tucu can lead the women to the bank above here, and we shall try for the canoes. Then it will be fast work to get away, but if we have good fortune it can be done.”

“Confound it! You fellows are taking all the risks! Can’t you take more men--”

“No. No man but Tucu. He has a cool head. These others, if they knew, would go blood-mad and attack the Red Bones to avenge their lost women, and so would get us all killed. Now I will talk with Tucu.”

He slipped into the Mayoruna shelter and returned with the cannibal leader, whom he led to the far side of the tambo before speaking. Then, in whispers which the other tribesmen could not overhear, he explained the situation. Knowlton took another turn or two along his post, finding that the Red Bones across the water were stirring about and evidently aware that something was going on; but they made no move either to get into a canoe or to send a man to the houses beyond. As he stopped again at the corner near the whispering pair he heard Tucu grinding his teeth, and as the savage turned his face toward the Red Bone outpost it was a mask of murder. But he spoke no word as he slipped back to his own men.