“Well, then, let’s make a break!” Carl advised.
“All right!” Jimmie replied. “When we get to the next jungle where the bushes are so thick they can’t throw a spear very far, you duck one way and I’ll duck the other, and we’ll both make for the camp.”
The boys knew very well that they were in a perilous situation. The savages were more familiar with travel through underbrush than themselves. Besides, they would undoubtedly be able to make better time than boys reared on city streets. In addition to all this, the spears they carried might carry death on every tip.
However, to remain seemed fully as dangerous as to attempt to escape. So when they came to a particularly dense bit of jungle the boys darted away. As they did so Jimmie felt a spear whiz within an inch of his head, and Carl felt the push of one as it entered his sleeve. Dodging swiftly this way and that, uttering cries designed to bring their chums to their assistance, the boys forced their way through the undergrowth some distance in advance of their pursuers.
Every moment they expected to feel the sting of a spear, or to be seized from behind by a brown, muscular hand. After all it was their voices and not their ability as runners which brought about their rescue.
Hearing the cries of their chums, Ben and Glenn sprang for their guns and, walking swiftly toward the river, began firing, both for the purpose of directing the boys toward the camp and with the added purpose of frightening away any hostile element, either human or animal, walking on four legs or on two. Panting, and scarcely believing in their own good fortune, Jimmie and Carl presently came to where their chums stood not far from the machines. Both boys dropped down in the long grass the instant they felt themselves under the protection of the automatics in the hands of their friends.
To say that Glenn and Ben were surprised at the sudden appearance of their chums only feebly expresses the situation. The savages had not followed the boys into the open plaza where the grass grew, and so there was no physical explanation of the incident.
“What’s doing?” demanded Glenn.
“You must be running for exercise!” Ben put in.
“For the love of Mike!” exclaimed Jimmie, panting and holding his hands to his sides. “Get back to the machines and throw the truck on board! These woods are full of head-hunters!”