<h2 id="c11"><span class="small">CHAPTER XI</span> <br/>A Sudden Surprise</h2>
<p>Slowly, the Macu warriors closed in on the two
boys. The sharp eyes that glared from painted faces
were on the watch for even the slightest move.</p>
<p>Kamuka muttered to Biff, “Drop machete. Right
away.”</p>
<p>As Kamuka let his machete fall, Biff did the same.
The inner circle of Macus dropped their own weapons
and sprang forward upon the boys.</p>
<p>The two were captured without a struggle. The
Macus brought out rawhide bowstrings and tied the
wrists of the prisoners behind them. They also tied
their ankles together, but in hobble fashion, far
enough apart so that they could still take short steps.</p>
<p>Two of their captors picked up the machetes. Another
snatched Biff’s wrist watch and tugged it loose.
Next, they were finding prizes in the pockets of the
prisoners: Biff’s scout knife and his father’s metal mirror;
the marbles and the little mirror that Kamuka
had been given earlier in the day.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_96">96</div>
<p>Kamuka seemed indifferent to all that happened. He
braced his feet so that the Macus had trouble pushing
him around. Biff copied that procedure and found
that it helped. Their captors were in a hurry because
all the while, the cries of the howler monkeys were
becoming louder. Above the din, Kamuka said
calmly, “If they hear this back at the safari, they will
know that we are having trouble. They will come to
help us.”</p>
<p>“But how will they know what is happening?”</p>
<p>“You will see why. Soon.”</p>
<p>Leaping monkeys formed dark red streaks against
the deep green of the jungle foliage. A few Macus
were guarding Biff and Kamuka. The rest spread out
through the brush, where they squatted as they had
originally. Gradually, the commotion lessened up in
the treetops. Then, as the monkeys returned to normal,
the Macus bobbed up again.</p>
<p>Now, their bows and blowguns were pointed upward.
The air was suddenly filled with arrows and
darts that found their marks high above. Monkeys began
tumbling from the trees, while the rest scattered,
howling louder than before. From the distance came
answering chatter, like an alarm spreading through
the jungle.</p>
<p>“The Macu come across river to hunt monkeys,”
Kamuka told Biff. “We heard monkeys talk. I should
have known Macu were here.”</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_97">97</div>
<p>The Macus gathered up the dead monkeys and
marched Biff and Kamuka back along the trail. New
howls were coming from far off.</p>
<p>“You see?” undertoned Kamuka. “Maybe safari
will hear and come fast.”</p>
<p>“Or go the other way faster,” put in Biff. “Those
villagers are scared by the very thought of meeting
up with Macus.”</p>
<p>“But your father will come, with Mr. Whitman—”</p>
<p>“I only hope they won’t fall into the same trap.”</p>
<p>“They will not fall into trap. They will have Jacome
with them. He will be on watch.”</p>
<p>Biff’s hopes rose at Kamuka’s words, only to fall
again as their Macu captors turned suddenly from the
trail. Instead of trampling the side path, the Macus
moved stealthily in single file, pushing the captured
boys into the line ahead of them. They spread the
jungle plants as they moved through them, then let
them fall back into place, leaving no trace of their
route.</p>
<p>Literally, the entire party was swallowed by the
jungle. Biff groaned loud enough for Kamuka to hear.</p>
<p>“Fine chance we have now!” Biff said. “They will
never find us, unless the natives know where the
Macu village is.”</p>
<p>“Macu never make village,” replied Kamuka. “All
they do is tear down huts that belong to other people.”</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_98">98</div>
<p>The procession was moving straight westward toward
the setting sun. That, at least, made sense to
Biff, for it proved that the Macus had come from
across the Rio Negro, as they usually did. Evidently
they had found the fishing poor, so had gone on a
monkey hunt instead.</p>
<p>Soon, the procession reached the Macu camp. This
was a small natural clearing where the Macus had
chopped down a few palm trees. Women of the tribe
were sewing palm leaves together to form roofs for
crude shelters around a central fire.</p>
<p>While the hunters skinned monkeys for the evening
meal, other tribesmen gathered around Biff and Kamuka,
prodding them as if they were curiosities. Their
hands were finally released and they were allowed to
eat. Biff was glad that they were fed left-over fish
instead of monkey meat.</p>
<p>Then they were marched to two small trees. Biff’s
wrists were tied behind him around a tree, and he
was allowed to slide down to a sitting position. Kamuka
was tied in the same fashion to another tree only
a few feet away. Liana ropes were used instead of
thongs, but the knots were very tight and solid.</p>
<p>Other Macus tied their ankles in the same manner,
so that escape would be difficult, if not impossible.
As the Macus moved away and gathered around the
slowly dying fire, Biff saw their ruddy faces and
spoke to Kamuka.</p>
<p>“They sure look bloodthirsty, with their faces all
done up in war paint.”</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_99">99</div>
<p>“That is not for war,” said Kamuka. “It is for hunger.
They will wear the paint all night, for luck in
catching monkeys tomorrow.”</p>
<p>Biff and Kamuka were not too uncomfortable that
night. They slept fitfully until dawn, when the
women brought them water but offered them no food.
When they were alone again, Biff asked:</p>
<p>“What do you think about head-hunters now, Kamuka?
Will they let us grow up before they shrink
our heads?”</p>
<p>“Maybe,” returned Kamuka. “Sometimes they take
prisoners for members of the tribe. But I do not want
to be Macu. I want to be johnny-on-the-spot.”</p>
<p>“You’re on the spot all right. We both are. If I only
had something to cut these ropes!”</p>
<p>“I have something Macu did not find. I have it in
back pocket where I can get it easy. Burning glass.”</p>
<p>Kamuka’s words roused Biff to an eager pitch.</p>
<p>“Get it, Kamuka!” he exclaimed. “Try to hold it
into the sunlight and turn it toward my hands.”</p>
<p>“But it will burn your hands—”</p>
<p>“Not long, it won’t. I’ll tell you when to move it
and which way to tilt it.”</p>
<p>Kamuka soon had the little microscope tilted toward
the sun. Biff repressed a sudden “Ouch!” and
then said calmly, “Just a little higher, Kamuka. Hold
it there a moment. No, a little more. Now, the other
way—”</p>
<p>“I smell rope burning!” Kamuka said.</p>
<p>“Hold it just as it is,” urged Biff.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_100">100</div>
<p>Soon Biff, too, could smell the burning rope. A minute
later, he found that the bonds yielded when he
tried to pull his wrists apart. Finally the rope broke
completely, and with one hand free Biff was able to
take the microscope and work on Kamuka’s bonds.</p>
<p>By now, most of the Macu hunters had left the
camp, and the few who remained were still asleep.
The boys worked on their ankle ropes, unnoticed, but
found them so tight that they had to take turns burning
them. Finally free, they realized that their biggest
problem lay ahead.</p>
<p>“We can’t both make a run for it at once,” whispered
Biff, “or they might wake up and spot us. You
slide for the brush first, Kamuka. If they still see me,
they may not notice that you have gone.”</p>
<p>“But I can’t leave you here alone, Biff.”</p>
<p>“You won’t be leaving me. I’ll give you time to
work around the clearing. Then if they see me start
to leave, you can raise a yell and draw them your
way.”</p>
<p>“Very good, Biff. We try it.”</p>
<p>The ruse worked better than they had hoped. Kamuka
gained the edge of the clearing with ease. Biff gave
him due time to get properly posted, then followed
the same route. They had chosen it well, for it was
not only the closest edge of the clearing; it was directly
toward the rising sun, which would tend to
dazzle anyone who looked that way.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_101">101</div>
<p>Once in the jungle, Biff kept close to the clearing as
he circled it, calling softly to Kamuka until they
finally met. Again, the sun proved helpful. They had
been headed toward it when they were brought here
as prisoners, late in the previous afternoon. So now,
they had only to move toward the morning sun to
reach the jungle trail.</p>
<p>It was slow going, as they had to be wary of
animals in the brush, yet all the while they felt the
urge to hurry in case their escape had been discovered
back at the Macu camp. At last, however, they came
upon the trail. Then came the question: Which direction
should they take?</p>
<p>“The safari must have come as far as we did,” declared
Biff, “in fact probably a lot farther, as they
were supposed to keep on coming until they overtook
us.”</p>
<p>“But when they didn’t find us,” said Kamuka, “they
must have turned back to look.”</p>
<p>“You may be right,” decided Biff. “They could
have figured, too, that we missed the trail somewhere
along the line. I’ll tell you what. Let’s go back along
the trail a couple of miles anyway. If we don’t meet
them, we’ll know they are up ahead.”</p>
<p>“And all the time,” added Kamuka, “we keep good
sharp look for Macu!”</p>
<p>That final point was so important that both Biff
and Kamuka kept paying more attention to the bordering
jungle than to the trail itself. Every sound,
from a bird call to a monkey howl might mean that
Macu hunters were about. So could the slightest stir
among the jungle flowers and the banks of surrounding
plants, where at any moment, painted faces topped
with wavy hair might come popping into sight as
they had the afternoon before.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_102">102</div>
<p>But there wasn’t a trace of motion in all that sultry
setting until the boys reached a place where the trail
took a short, sharp turn around the slanted trunk of
a fallen ceiba tree. Biff, in the lead, gave a quick glad
cry as he saw native bearers coming toward them,
bowed under the weight of the packs they carried.</p>
<p>At the head of the column strode a white-clad
man wearing a tropical helmet. At sight of him, Biff
turned and called to Kamuka:</p>
<p>“Here’s Mr. Whitman coming with the whole safari!
We’re safe now, Kamuka! Come on!”</p>
<p>With that, Biff dashed forward, only to be caught
by the shoulders and spun full about, his arm twisted
in back of him. Biff’s captor shoved him straight toward
the leader of the safari, and the boy saw for the
first time that the man in white wasn’t Mr. Whitman.</p>
<p>Looking down from beneath the pith helmet was
the ever-smiling face of Nicholas Serbot, tinted an
unearthly green in the subdued glow of the jungle.
Over Biff’s shoulder leered the face of his captor,
Big Pepito!</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_103">103</div>
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