"I've guessed it out," said Daley. "Yes, it must be so. See that liquid stuff the dart heads are resting in--see the rattlesnake heads in a heap yonder?"
"Why," exclaimed Dave comprehendingly; "poison!"
"Poison of the most deadly kind, lad!" declared Daley. "We've got them now. They won't dare to show their heads as long as we shake one of those poisoned darts at them. Only be careful how you handle them. They are sure, sudden death. One of the Raven crew was struck with one of them in an attack the first time we landed here. He died in an hour."
The camp-fire burned down gradually. Their enemies remained under cover. The clouds grew heavier, and there was finally no moonlight or other illumination of the scene.
"It will be daylight soon," remarked Dave, after a long spell of silence. "Mr. Daley, we mustn't stay here."
"Right, mate. I've been thinking of that myself."
"See here," said Dave, going to the remotest corner of the roof away from the front of the hut. "There's a tree with some branches in reach. Let us take that route. The trees are thick, clear over to what looks like some kind of a corral yonder."
"An excellent idea," voted Daley. "Well, try it, lad."
Dave's suggestion was a pronounced success. They got to the first tree, to a second, to a third. Apparently their escape was unobserved by the natives.
"We're safe enough now," said Daley. "I say, lad, look down. Whatever are those queer-looking animals?"