ter not to. Of the Mayorunas, senhor--you
do not intend to go among them, seeking this wild man of the red bones?
If you should do so it would be a matter of regret to me."

"Meaning that we should not come out again? That's a risk we have to
face. We go wherever it is necessary."

"I am sorry. I regret also that I can give you no definite information.
Yet I wish you all success, senhores, and a safe return. This much I can
do and gladly will do: I can send word to another white man who now is
in the town and who knows much of the upper river. He may be able to
assist you, and without doubt will be eager to do so. He is staying at
the hotel, just below here--Senhor Schwandorf."

The eyes of the two Americans narrowed. The official coughed.

"Senhor McKay has been a soldier. And Senhor Knowlton--"

"I was a lieutenant."

"Ah! But the war has passed, senhores. Senhor Schwandorf was not a
soldier of Germany--he has been in Brazil for more than six years."

"War's over. That's right," McKay agreed. "But don't bother to send
word. We'll find him if he's at the hotel. Going there ourselves. Glad
to have met you, sir. Good luck!"

"And to you also luck, Capitao and Tenente," smiled the official. McKay
and Knowlton strode out.

"Guess this is the hotel," hazarded McKay, glancing at a house which
rose slightly above the others. "I'll go in and charter rooms. You get
Tim and have somebody rustle our impedimenta up here."

He turned aside. Knowlton trudged on through the glare of sunset to the
river bank where Tim and the army of Remate de Males still loafed up and
down, the admired of all beholders.

"All right, Tim. We're moving to the hotel. No more war, I see."

"Lord love ye, no," grinned Tim. "Me and this feller are gittin' on
fine. He's Joey--I forgit the rest of his names; he's got about a dozen
more and they sound like stones rattlin' around inside a can. But Joey's
a right guy. After me tour o' duty ends he's goin' to buy me a drink and
maybe introjuce me to a lady friend o' his. Want to join the party,
Looey?"

"Not unless the ladies are better looking than these," laughed the
ex-lieutenant, moving his head toward the pipe-smoking females.

"Faith, I was thinkin' that same meself. Unless he can dig up somethin'
fancier 'n what I see so far, I'd as soon have Mademoiselle."

"Who?"

"Mademoiselle of Armentieres. Sure, ye know that one, Looey. Goes to the
tune o' 'Parley-Voo.'"

Wherewith he lifted up