“Don’t know why it wouldn’t be,” Bob returned. “Why should they poison us? At present we’re too much of a curiosity to kill. They’ll at least wait for the novelty to wear off.”
The food tasted good despite the fact that the boys were ignorant as to what it was. They ate heartily, and in a very short time their strength was restored.
Then by signs they asked permission to walk around the village. At first the natives hesitated, but at last the chief nodded in approval, and the youths got to their feet.
“If we could just speak some of their language,” said Bob, as they went out of the thatched house.
“Be easy then,” affirmed Joe. “But maybe we can get them to take us to the river, and then Professor Bigelow can talk with them.”
The chief led the way around the settlement, pointing with pride to many articles that were the results of the Indians’ handiwork. Many objects were totally new to the boys, and they viewed them with interest. But when they came to one large hut they saw something that turned their blood cold with horror.
Hanging thickly on the walls were scores of dried human heads, their features perfectly preserved. In fact the ghastly trophies were so thick that there were no cracks between them.
Bob and Joe glanced around the room in terrible awe. Suddenly, as they turned about, their eyes fell on something that again caused them to be horror-stricken, this time more than before.
Near the corner were two heads that were—white!