In their very long and toilsome march, up the Mayatata, well was it indeed for Roland and Dick that they had guides so faithful and clever as Benee and Charlie. But for them, indeed, the expedition would have been foredoomed to failure.
Benee indeed was really the guiding star. For in his own lonesome wanderings he had surveyed the whole country as it were, and knew every fitting place for a camp, every ford on every stream, and every pathway through the dense and dark forests.
They were but the pathways made by the beasts, however, and often all but impassable. Still, in single file they marched, and were always successful in making their way. Two whole months passed away, and now, as they were nearing the cannibal highlands, greater precautions than ever were required.
And for a week they had to turn night into day, and travel while the savages slept.
They kept away, too, from any portion of the country which seemed to have the slightest claim to be called inhabited. Better they should herd with the wild beasts of the forest than sight the face of even a single savage. For swift as deer that savage would run towards the cannibal head-quarters and give information of the approach of a pale-face horde of enemies.
At last there came a day when Benee called a council of war.
"We now get near de bad man's land," he said. "Ugh! I not lub mooch blood."
"Then what would you have us do?" said Roland. "Shall we advance boldly or make a night attack?"
"No, no, no, sah. Too many cannibal warrior, too much pizen arrow, sling, and spear. No; build here a camp. Make he strong. Benee will go all same. Benee will creep and crawl till he come to father and mother house. Den Benee make all right. Pray for Benee."
Benee left, poor Brawn bidding him a most affectionate farewell. Surely that honest dog knew he was bent on saving his little mistress, if only he could.