<h2 id="c9"><span class="small">CHAPTER IX</span> <br/>The Shrunken Heads</h2>
<p>Wildly, Biff tumbled from his hammock to the
soggy ground. Coming to his hands and knees, he
started forward just as another figure sprang into the
firelight, too late to halt Luiz’s knife. The newcomer
grabbed Luiz’s shoulders and spun the little man full
about. For a moment, Luiz poised his blade as though
planning to counter the attack.</p>
<p>Instead, he uttered an unearthly shriek, as though
he had seen a ghost. Biff was startled, too, but his cry
was a glad one. Etched against the firelight, Biff saw
his dad’s face looking down at Luiz.</p>
<p>Tom Brewster himself was the man who had interrupted
Luiz’s deadly work. The figure under the
poncho, Biff realized, must be a dummy.</p>
<p>As the two men struggled for possession of the
knife, they kicked the dummy apart with their feet.
Suddenly Luiz managed to wrench free and dashed
off into the jungle.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_77">77</div>
<p>Mr. Brewster didn’t bother to start after the terrified
guide. But Hal Whitman came rushing from the
shelter waving a revolver. Mr. Whitman fired a few
wild shots in the direction that Luiz had taken. The
crackling of jungle plants came back like echoes, indicating
that the gunfire had spurred Luiz’s mad
flight.</p>
<p>“That’s enough, Hal,” laughed Mr. Brewster. “The
fellow is so badly scared he won’t stop running until
he reaches Serbot’s camp.”</p>
<p>“And the more he runs,” returned Mr. Whitman,
“the more difficulty he will have finding it in the
dark. Well, if Luiz gets lost in the jungle, he won’t
talk to Serbot.”</p>
<p>“I don’t think it matters much, Hal. Luiz has already
told Serbot all he knows.”</p>
<p>“Except that we found out his game. Now he will
tell that to Serbot, too—if he finds him.”</p>
<p>By the flickering firelight, Biff saw his father’s face
take on a troubled expression.</p>
<p>“You’re right, Hal,” decided Mr. Brewster grimly.
“I hadn’t thought of that. It would be better to catch
Luiz and take him along with us. It’s probably too late
now, but it may be worth a try.” Mr. Brewster turned
to Jacome. “Call Luiz, and see if he answers.”</p>
<p>Jacome gave a long call: “Luiz! Luiz!” Faintly,
like a faraway echo, a voice responded: “<i>Ajudo!
Ajudo!</i>”</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_78">78</div>
<p>In the firelight, Biff and Kamuka exchanged
startled glances. Both had the same sudden thought,
but it was Biff who exclaimed, “The quicksand!
Luiz must have taken the same path that we did this
afternoon!”</p>
<p>Jacome was calling “Luiz!” again, but this time
there was no response. Mr. Brewster gave the prompt
order:</p>
<p>“Bring lights and hurry!”</p>
<p>From the way the path showed in the gleam of
their flashlights, it was plain that Luiz could have followed
it rapidly in the dark, for it formed the only
opening through the brush. Biff and Kamuka, racing
along beside Jacome, were the first to reach the arch
of trees above the quicksand.</p>
<p>They halted there, but saw no sign of a human figure
in the muck. The glare revealed nothing but floating
water flowers until big Jacome pointed out what
appeared to be a lily pad. Biff exclaimed:</p>
<p>“Luiz’s hat!”</p>
<p>It was lying brim downward in the ooze, beyond
the bough from which Biff had rescued Kamuka. This
time it was Kamuka who scrambled along the branch
and used a big stick that Jacome tossed him to prod
the quicksand, but with no result.</p>
<p>From the bank, Mr. Brewster studied the scene
grimly, noting that the farther out Kamuka jabbed
the stick, the easier and deeper it went.</p>
<p>“That cry from Luiz was his last,” decided Mr.
Brewster. “In his flight, he must have plunged much
farther than Kamuka did this afternoon. That is why
the quicksand swallowed him much faster.”</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_79">79</div>
<p>From the bank, Jacome and other natives dragged
the mire with stones attached to long liana vines, but
received no answering tugs from the pulpy quicksand.
When they pushed long sticks down into the mire,
they went completely out of sight, to stay.</p>
<p>“There’s no reclaiming anything lost in those
depths,” Biff’s father said soberly. “That goes for
Luiz, too.”</p>
<p>When they returned to the campsite, Mr. Brewster
dismantled the crude dummy that he had placed beside
the fire. It was formed from wads of grass, palm
stalks, and small logs, which had made it bulky enough
to be mistaken for a sleeping figure in the uncertain
firelight.</p>
<p>“After what you told me,” Mr. Brewster said to
Biff and Kamuka, “I decided to test Luiz. I did everything
but mention Joe Nara by name. I made this
dummy figure so I could watch Luiz if he tried to
steal the map he had been told I carried. At the same
time, I was guarding my life against his treachery.”</p>
<p>“But, Dad!” exclaimed Biff. “Serbot never told
Luiz to kill you. He simply told him to delay our
safari.”</p>
<p>“And to Luiz’s way of thinking,” declared Mr.
Brewster, “the simplest way of accomplishing that
would be by killing me. Here in the jungle, people
think and act in very direct terms, particularly the natives.”</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_80">80</div>
<p>Mr. Brewster and Mr. Whitman began a discussion
of the next steps to be taken. They agreed that the
sooner the safari moved along, the better. Mr. Brewster
put a question to Jacome.</p>
<p>“You have been to Piedra Del Cucuy before, Jacome.
Could you find your way there again?”</p>
<p>“I think so, Senhor.”</p>
<p>“Then you will be our guide as far as the big rock.
Have the bearers ready to move at dawn.”</p>
<p>Daylight was tinting the vast canopy of jungle
leaves when the safari started back toward the main
trail. The setting was somber at this early hour, but
the silence was soon broken by some scattered jungle
cries. Then, clear and sharp, came the metallic note
of the bellbird. Mr. Brewster waved the safari to a
stop and said:</p>
<p>“Listen.”</p>
<p>The call was repeated. Mr. Brewster turned to
Kamuka and asked:</p>
<p>“What kind of bird is that? <i>Campanero</i> or Urubu?”</p>
<p>Biff smiled at the way his father used the term for
“bellbird” along with Urubu’s nickname of “vulture.”
But Kamuka kept a very serious face as he replied.</p>
<p>“It is Urubu. Look, Senhor. I show you why.”</p>
<p>He pointed to a white-feathered bird that formed
a tiny spot on the high branch of a tree.</p>
<p>“There is real <i>campanero</i>,” declared Kamuka. “He
is saying nothing. He would answer if he heard real
call.”</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_81">81</div>
<p>Mr. Brewster studied the bellbird through a pair of
binoculars and promptly agreed with Kamuka. He
handed the glasses to Biff, who noted that the bird,
which was something like a waxwing, but larger, had
an appendage that extended from its forehead and
draped down over its bill. This ornament, jet-black
in color, was starred with tiny tufts of feathers. Mr.
Brewster called it a caruncle and explained that it was
commonly seen on various species of tropical birds
noted for their ringing cries.</p>
<p>But this bellbird remained silent, even when the
distant anvil sound clanged anew.</p>
<p>“Urubu is signaling for Luiz,” declared Mr. Brewster.
“He may wait an hour or so and try again.
When Serbot finally decides that we have moved on,
he will think that Luiz is taking us the long way. We
should get a good head start, right now.”</p>
<p>The safari pressed forward at a quick pace which
was maintained most of the day. The going was not
as hard as Biff had anticipated. Luiz’s talk of a tough
trail had been a sham, so that the party would be willing
to take the long route.</p>
<p>Even some of the streams they encountered were
already bridged with fallen trees, making crossing
easy. After one such crossing, Jacome suggested stopping
to eat. Mr. Brewster opened some canned goods,
but most of the bearers preferred bowls of coarse
cereal, made from the manioc or cassava plant. This
formed their chief diet.</p>
<p>Jacome gnawed on a large bone of left-over tapir
meat. When he had finished half of the meat, he suddenly
tossed the bone into the stream. Instantly, the
water flashed with silvery streaks in the shape of long,
sleek fish that fought for the bone and tore the remaining
meat to shreds.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_82">82</div>
<p>“Piranha,” grunted Jacome. “They rip anybody
who goes in water. If we chop away tree, Urubu will
have to stop to build new bridge to get across.”</p>
<p>“Serbot might suspect something,” objected Mr.
Brewster. “If they guess that we are on the same trail
<i>ahead</i> of them, they will hurry. It is better to let them
think that they can take their time.”</p>
<p>Jacome still found time to fish for piranha during
the short rest. The cannibal fish practically leaped
from the water to take the bait. Jacome took no
chances with the sharp teeth that projected from
their bulldog jaws. He cut the lines and tossed the
fish into a basket, hooks and all. When the safari made
camp at dusk, they cooked the piranha, and the fish
proved a tasty dinner, indeed.</p>
<p>Mr. Brewster kept the safari at a steady pace
during the next few days in order to stay ahead of
Serbot’s party. Jacome proved an excellent guide,
remembering every landmark along the trail. One
afternoon, a rain ended as they trudged beside the
bank of a sluggish stream and Jacome pointed into the
distance with the comment:</p>
<p>“Big rock. There.”</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_83">83</div>
<p>It was Piedra Del Cucuy, a huge, stumpy shaft of
granite, towering hundreds of feet above the forest.
The rock was streaked with tiny trees that looked
like sprinklings from the vast green vegetation that
spread beneath. Though the natural boundary marker
was still a day’s march away, the mere sight of it
spurred on the safari.</p>
<p>In the light of dawn, the big rock seemed much
closer, and within a few hours’ trek, even its cracks
and furrows showed sharply. Trails began to join, and
suddenly the trees spread as the safari emerged upon
a sandy beach lapped by the black water of the Rio
Negro.</p>
<p>There wasn’t a sign of a boat nor of any habitation
until Kamuka pointed to a movement in the brush, a
few hundred feet downstream. Mr. Brewster stepped
forward, spreading his arms with a wide sweep.</p>
<p>“If it’s Joe Nara,” Mr. Brewster told Biff, “he will
recognize us. If not, be ready to get back to shelter!”</p>
<p>Two figures bobbed into sight, and Biff recognized
the squatty forms of Igo and Ubi. They turned and
gestured. A few moments later they were joined by
Joe Nara. All three came forward to meet the safari.
Nara was carrying a small package under his arm.</p>
<p>The bearers were laying down their packs and
other equipment when Nara cried excitedly:</p>
<p>“We hoped it would be you, Brewster, but we
weren’t sure. The Macus have been attacking villages
up and down the river. Everywhere, we have heard
the cry: ‘Macu! Macu!’ until we—”</p>
<p>“Hold it, Nara,” broke in Mr. Brewster. “We have
more important things to talk about first.”</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_84">84</div>
<p>The native bearers were coming forward silently,
and Biff realized that they were drawn by that
dreaded word, Macu. But Mr. Brewster wasn’t able
to hush Joe Nara.</p>
<p>“What’s more important than Macu head-hunters?”
the old man demanded. “If you don’t believe me,
Brewster, look at what I picked up downriver!”</p>
<p>Before Mr. Brewster could stop him, Joe Nara
ripped open the package that he carried. Under the
eyes of the native bearers who now were crowding
close about him, Nara brought out a pair of shrunken
human heads, triumphantly displaying one in each
hand!</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_85">85</div>
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