Natives were swarming in from behind the trees, moving swiftly and menacingly. Those in advance carried throwing sticks. Behind them were others with battle axes and war clubs.
“We’re surrounded!” Ken gasped. “They’ve got us!”
Jack went forward to meet the oncoming swarm. His hand was flung up in a salute, a token of good intentions.
“Amigos! Friends!” he shouted.
All about him, he beheld only leering, hostile faces. An Indian with a long spear seized him by the arms, spinning him around.
He struggled and tried to shake off his captor. But he was powerless to move. His arms were held as if by bands of steel. A heavy object crashed down on his head and he knew no more.
Chapter 17
HOSTILE INDIANS
Jack opened his eyes to find Ken anxiously bending over him. Gradually, he came to a realization that he was lying on a pile of straw in a darkened hut. He could hear the monotonous beat of drums beyond the open doorway, through which flickered the light of a moving torch.
“Feeling better?” Ken asked.
Jack rubbed the swelling on his head, and managed a sickly grin. “Where are we?” he asked hoarsely.