CHAPTER X
Trapped by the Head-hunters
From the babble that followed, Biff realized that the damage had been done. The bearers shied away as though the tiny heads were alive and ready to attack them. They made a hurried retreat toward the trail from which the safari had come. Out of their excited chatter, Biff could distinguish the words:
“Macu here! We go home—quick!”
Biff, meanwhile, was studying the shrunken heads in amazement. Reduced to the size of baseballs, their human appearance was preserved in miniature form. Cords closed the lips, and feathered ornaments hung from the ears of these grotesque trophies.
Though Biff had heard how head-hunters dealt with their victims, he had thought of shrunken heads as curios rather than as something gruesome. But here, on a tropical riverbank, where the deadly Macus might pop up in person, the grisly trophies were fearful things indeed.
When Biff looked from the tiny heads in Nara’s hands to the scared faces of the clustered natives, he noted a striking similarity between them. He knew that the natives saw it, too, each picturing himself as a head-hunter’s prospective victim. Mr. Whitman and Jacome were trying to quiet the wild babble but to no avail. Mr. Brewster gestured to the shrunken heads and told Nara:
“Put those away.”
Old Joe wrapped the souvenirs with a chuckle, as though he relished the confusion he had caused. Jacome approached and spoke solemnly to Mr. Brewster.
“It is no good,” Jacome said. “They want pay. They want to go back to Santa Isabel—far away from Macu.”
“What about you, Jacome?” inquired Mr. Brewster. “Do you want to go with them?”