It was Kamuka. Biff vaulted the log and took shelter behind it, but tried to shake off Kamuka’s restraining hand as he saw his father come along the trail with Mr. Whitman and Jacome. All three were taking long-range shots at distant Macus.
“I have to warn Dad,” Biff explained. “Serbot’s party is just around the bend.”
“He knows,” assured Kamuka. “We were coming back when we heard their guns. So we hurry fast.”
“Coming back along this trail?”
“That’s right. When they couldn’t find us on the main trail, they think maybe we take this one. So today, they take it to look for us.”
“Then you sneaked ahead of Serbot’s party after you ducked from sight. But how did you know to take this side trail when you reached it?”
“Jacome leave special message that I understand. Twist of grass and broken jungle branch are as good as mirror signal, sometimes.”
Mr. Brewster and his fellow-marksmen had rifles with a longer range than the Macu weapons. Also, they were able to shift positions along the trail, preventing the Macus from picking a point of attack.
Serbot’s party, on the contrary, had first let the Macus close in on them. Then, in solidly entrenching themselves, they had lost all chance of mobility. Soon they would have been surrounded if Mr. Brewster and his companions hadn’t come along to scatter the foe. Kamuka called Biff’s attention to that fact.
“Macu run like scared deer,” said Kamuka. “But now your father is telling Mr. Whitman and Jacome to stop shooting. Why?”