“Then it’s Indians. Savages, cannibals, maybe, for all we know. It’s their bows and arrows that have scared these wild animals out of their wits.”
The youths knew not what to make of the situation. There could easily be Indians in this region, for Professor Bigelow was almost sure they were near the strange savage tribe that Otari told about. But how the natives would treat these two lone whites was a mystery. If there should be a battle the youths knew that their rifle could be relied upon only as long as the supply of cartridges lasted. Then they would be compelled to surrender.
“I have a plan,” stated Joe, several minutes later. “If anything should happen that we are discovered by savages, it might be best to act extremely exhausted, as if we couldn’t stand up a minute longer. We could even fall in our tracks before they quite get sight of us. The chances are they would sympathize with us and take us into their village.”
“Then what?”
“We could gain their friendship and have them lead us to the river.”
“Fine!” cried Bob Holton, his hope renewed. “Takes you to think of some plan to get us out of danger. Most likely we could carry it out, for these savages are only grown children when it comes to catching on to anything unusual. But we’d have to be very careful and keep a close watch for any treachery.”
Along toward noon the youths began to look for game. They were by now furiously hungry and felt as if they could devour almost any creature that would fall at the report of their rifle.
They did not have to wait long before a large duck-like bird flew over and perched on a tree bough, not twenty feet away. Joe handed his rifle to his chum.
“Take a shot at it,” urged Joe. “We may not see another chance as good.”
Bob aimed carefully and fired just as the bird prepared to take flight. A moment later feathers flew and the creature fluttered to the ground.