The next instant they had reached the thicket and at the sight which greeted them, even Mr. Pauling, Mr. Henderson and the explorer drew back filled with nauseating horror.
Stretched at full length upon the ground was the body of a man, with a long staff of wood driven between his shoulders and pinning him to the earth. And then, as they took a second glance, horror gave way to amazement, for fringing the dead man’s face pressed against the forest floor was a huge red beard!
“Jumping Jupiter, it’s he!” cried Rawlins. “Old Red Whiskers himself!”
“And killed by a Kenaima!” exclaimed Mr. Thorne.
“Jove, no wonder those Indians were nervous!” ejaculated Mr. Pauling.
“I’ll say they had reason to be!” declared Rawlins. “But what in blazes started a Kenaima after this guy do you suppose?”
Mr. Thorne had stepped to the edge of the trees. “Come here, Colcord,” he called, “and bring a couple of shovels along. Better bring Sam too. No use trying to get one of the Bucks.”
But when the Boviander arrived, he took one glance at the body and then, throwing down the shovels raced back to the boat. Too much Indian blood flowed in his veins for him to approach a victim of the Kenaima and as he reached the boat a low, terrified wail arose from the throats of the Indians: “Kenaima! Kenaima! Kenaima!”
Leaping into the craft they seized their paddles.
“Come on!” shouted Mr. Thorne. “Run for your lives! They’re crazed with fear! They’re going off!”