never thought it necessary to drape himself in invisibility
at night. But when his attention was called to it he recognized its
value at once, and the white nets were forthwith abandoned.

Now, on the first morning out from the Nunes place, the three Americans
stretched themselves in lazy enjoyment after a night passed without a
sentinel. The stretching evoked sundry grunts due to the discovery that
their muscles still were lame. The long steamer journey from their own
land, followed by the daily confinement of the Peruvian canoe, had
afforded scant opportunity for keeping themselves fit, and the sudden
necessity for doing their own paddling had found every man soft. But
they now were hardening fast, and the steady swing of the paddles was
proving a physical joy. These were men ill accustomed to sitting in
enforced idleness for weeks on end.

Matches flared under the nets and cigarette smoke drifted into the air,
rousing to fresh activity the mosquitoes humming hungrily outside.
Gradually the shadows paled and the weak light reflecting from the
fog-shrouded water beyond grew into day. The nets lifted and the
bloodthirsty insects swooped in vicious triumph on the emerging men. But
again matches blazed, flame licked up among kindlings, a fire grew, and
in its smoke screen the voyagers found some surcease from the bug
hordes. Soon the fragrance of coffee floated into the air.

Tim yawned, coughed explosively, and swore.

"Fellers can't even take a gape for himself without gittin' these cussed
bugs down his throat," he complained, and coughed again. "Gimme some
coffee! I got one skeeter the size of a devil's darnin' needle stuck in
me windpipe."

"A devil's darning needle? What is that, Senhor Tim?" inquired Pedro,
passing him a cup of hot coffee. When the liquid--and the "skeeter"--had
passed into Tim's stomach he enlightened the inquirer.

"Ye dunno what's a devil's darnin' needle? Gosh! I'm s'prised at ye. I
seen lots of 'em right on this here river. He's a bug about so long"--he
stuck out a finger--"and he's got jaws like a crab and a long limber
tail a with reg'lar needle in the end, and inside him is a roll o' tough
silk--tough as spider web. And he's death on liars. Any time a feller
tells a lie he's got to look out, or all to oncet one o' them bugs'll
come scootin' at him and grab him by the nose with them jaws. Then he'll
curl up his tail--the bug, I mean--and run his needle and thread right
through the fell