ft of the arrow, made of some extremely hard wood, was about ten
inches in length. Affixed to it was a pointed fish-bone, sharp, but not
barbed, and not fastened in a manner suggestive of much strength. The
arrow was neither feathered nor grooved for a bowstring. Altogether it
seemed to be a childish weapon to be used by men equipped with lead and
steel.

Jenks could not understand the appearance of this toy. Evidently the
Dyaks believed in its efficacy, or they would not keep on
pertinaciously dropping an arrow on the ledge.

"How do they fire it?" asked Iris. "Do they throw it?"

"I will soon tell you," he replied, reaching for a rifle.

"Do not go out yet," she entreated him. "They cannot harm us. Perhaps
we may learn more by keeping quiet. They will not continue shooting
these things all day."

Again a tiny arrow traveled towards them in a graceful parabola. This
one fell short. Missing the tarpaulin, it almost dropped on the girl's
outstretched hand. She picked it up. The fish-bone point had snapped by
contact with the floor of the ledge.

She sought for and found the small tip.

"See," she said. "It seems to have been dipped in something. It is
quite discolored."

Jenks frowned peculiarly. A startling explanation had suggested itself
to him. Fragments of forgotten lore were taking cohesion in his mind.

"Put it down. Quick!" he cried.

Iris obeyed him, with wonder in her eyes. He spilled a teasponful of
champagne into a small hollow of the rock and steeped one of the
fish-bones in the liquid. Within a few seconds the champagne assumed a
greenish tinge and the bone became white. Then he knew.

"Good Heavens!" he exclaimed, "these are poisoned arrows shot through a
blowpipe. I have never before seen one, but I have often read about
them. The bamboos the Dyaks carried were sumpitans. These fish-bones
have been steeped in the juice of the upas tree. Iris, my dear girl, if
one of them had so much as scratched your finger nothing on earth could
save you."

She paled and drew back in sudden horror. This tiny thing had taken the
semblance of a snake. A vicious cobra cast at her feet would be less
alarming, for the reptile could be killed, whilst his venomous fangs
would only be used in self-defence.

Another tap sounded on their thrice-welcome covering. Evidently the
Dyaks would persist in their efforts to get one of those poisoned darts
home.

Jenks debated silently whether it would be better to create