“Be still!” snapped Bill, refusing to think of harm and thus lose his hold on his plans. They delayed at the boat only long enough to give the details of their discovery to a perturbed Mr. Gray, a penitent engineer and an excited colored pilot. Then they paddled for the shore.
Without ceremony they burst in at the chief’s big hut, where he was partaking of his evening meal.
He listened to Bill’s excited story, related in Spanish.
Then he sat in his hammock, munching on a yam, without retort.
“Well,” said Bill finally, exasperated out of all patience, “we will pay well to have men and boys take torches and scour the jungle.”
“What do you say?” demanded Jack, also in Spanish and dialect.
The chief put down his yam and stared without expression.
Finally he spoke, coldly.
“You say you much doctor-magic man!” he declared. “All right. You make magic. You find!”