“He probably intends to do anything we ask from now on,” said Bob. “Our ability to kill wild beasts with fire was too much for him. Maybe he thinks he’ll die like the tapir if he refuses.”
There was a narrow trail along the bank of the stream, and Bob led the way down it, followed by Joe and the chief. The boys intended to make as much time as possible, for they wished to reach the river as soon as they could. How far away it was, they did not know. Perhaps a large number of miles.
“If we can just keep the chief with us everything will turn out fine,” said Bob.
All the rest of that day they trudged on, keeping their rifle ready for any savage jungle beast that might show itself. The Indian kept with them tirelessly, and many times he proved of valuable assistance in pointing out the easiest course through the underbrush.
Along toward evening they stopped at a large open space that was devoid of vegetation.
“Better stay here for the night, hadn’t we?” asked Joe.
“Yes,” Bob replied. “You stay here and build a fire while the chief and I go in search of game. Don’t think you’ll be in any danger. We’ll be back in a short time.”
Bob and the Indian started out down the bank of the stream, confident that they would see game sooner or later.
They had not far to go.
At a sharp bend in the trail a small animal, the name of which Bob did not know, darted out and made for the water.