Up popped a group of tawny natives
Kamuka was quick as well as accurate with the machete. Once, while slashing at a low bush, he changed the direction of his swing. The long blade whisked within inches of Biff’s shin. As Biff sprang back, he saw the actual target of Kamuka’s quick aim.
The machete had clipped the head from a snake which had been rearing to strike at Biff’s leg. Pale yellow in color, with brown, diamond-shaped spots, it somewhat resembled a rattler, except that it had sounded no loud warning.
“Mapepire,” defined Kamuka. “Very bad. Worse poison than curare, like Macu use on arrows.”
Biff decided that the snake was a species of bushmaster, one of the most deadly of tropical reptiles.
“Neat work, Kamuka,” Biff exclaimed gratefully. “You sure were johnny-on-the-spot that time!”
“Johnny-on-the-spot,” repeated Kamuka. “What does that mean?”
“Somebody who is around when you need them most.”
A troop of red howler monkeys were hopping from one high tree to another, sometimes hanging on to branches only by their tails. The boys were watching those acrobatics, when a sudden stir occurred in the brush around them.