“How?” asked Mr. Pauling. “What magic do you use?”
“Easily enough,” replied the explorer. “These Arekunas are going to Bartica. They’ll be there before noon to-morrow and there’s a telegraph line from there to Georgetown. Write a message to Maidley and they’ll take it to Bartica and give it to the telegraph office there. It will be in Maidley’s hands by noon.”
“By Jove!” exclaimed Mr. Pauling. “I didn’t realize we were so closely in touch with civilization.”
The message was soon written and Mr. Thorne handed it to one of the still frightened Arekunas. “Must for takeum Bartica like so,” he instructed the Indian. “No looseum. When makeum Bartica side giveum Mr. Fowler. You sabby him fellow?”
The Arekuna slipped the folded paper into a jaguar skin pouch hanging from his neck, “Me sabby,” he said. “Takeum Mr. Fowler same way.”
“Can you depend on those fellows?” asked Mr. Henderson.
“Absolutely,” Mr. Thorne assured him. “I’ve never known an Indian to lose or forget a message and they’re strictly honest and trustworthy. I’ve known an Indian to travel over three hundred miles through the bush to return ten shillings he’d borrowed.”
“Not much like our redskins in the States,” commented Mr. Henderson.
“I don’t know about that,” declared the explorer. “I’ve always found primitive men honest--it’s civilization that ruins them. These Bucks are little more than vagabonds and scalawags once they become civilized and live near the settlements.”
Presently the Arekunas silently withdrew, the Indian boatmen sought their hammocks, and the white men and boys followed their example. Although the boys had become somewhat accustomed to the noises of a bush night while at Colcord’s house, yet here in their forest camp beside the mighty river, they felt strange and nervous. The boom and croak of frogs and the incessant sounds of myriads of insects were the same as they had already heard, but far louder and more numerous than at Colcord’s, and in addition there were a thousand and one other noises for which the boys could not account and which kept their sleepy tired eyes wide open. But the Indians were sleeping soundly; from Rawlins’ hammock, came lusty snores and the boys, despite their nervousness, finally lost consciousness and did not awaken until aroused by the sounds of the Indians starting the fire at dawn.