There, with only the ceaseless throb of the motor to disturb his reflection, he had time to think things through. How was this all to end? His men were making progress, but Tivoli had told him that many of the men were becoming frightened by the wild tales they were hearing of the doings of the man-eating jaguar. Would fright drive them back down the river before their task was completed? He wished Johnny was here. Then he would feel more free to hunt that beast down. Must do it, anyway, very soon.
And what was Daego plotting up the river? He could not bribe the Caribs. Would there be a fight in the end? Well, if so, Daego would not find them unprepared. He was training his men in a new form of warfare. They were handy with their long-bladed machetes, very handy indeed. Daego should see!
He glanced about him. It was strange that he should be in such a place at such a time. Yet he wanted to know, to be sure. If things were as he thought, he’d make Daego no end of trouble. He’d trap one of those black shadows of his, show him up.
“Trap one,” he whispered, “but how?”
This was a puzzler. Moments of reflection, and then an inspiration.
“The very thing! Rivers have been blocked against war boats by chains. This is better than chains; it floats. It—”
His whisper broke short off. Someone was coming. They carried a lantern. He had not thought of a light. What if they should catch sight of him. Shuddering, he shrank farther into the bushes. Just then he caught sight of the foremost man’s face.
“Daego!” he breathed. “Daego himself!”
As he listened he crowded farther and farther back among the palm leaves. He was hearing voices, many voices. They were talking in Spanish. He did not understand Spanish. It was not what they said that increased his fright, but the numbers of them.
“Must be twelve or fifteen of them,” he thought with a shudder. “What they won’t do to me if one of them chances to spy me!”