signs of comity, or were
so distrustful of the strangers that they refused to meet their
advances. Fleeing into the woods or high hills, they peeped out from
their coverts, uttering strange cries and indulging in grotesque
gestures, the meaning of which could hardly be mistaken. Had there
been any misapprehension on the part of the visitors, there was none
after several scores launched their arrows at the boat, as it glided
away from the shore and up stream. The aim was wild and no one was
struck, but when Professor Ernest Grimcke, the sturdy, blue-eyed
scientist of the party, picked up one of the missiles and carefully
examined it, he made the disturbing announcement that it was tipped
with one of the deadliest of known poisons.

The other members of this exploring party were Fred Ashman, a bright,
intelligent American, four-and-twenty years of age; Jared Long, an
attenuated, muscular New Englander in middle life, and Aaron Johnston,
a grim, reserved but powerful sailor from New Bedford, who had spent
most of his life on whaling voyages. Professor Grimcke and Ashman were
joint partners in the exploring enterprise, Long and Johnston being
their assistants.

In addition, there were three native servants, or helpers, known as
Bippo, Pedros and Quincal. They had been engaged at Macapa, near the
mouth of the Amazon. They were rather small of size, the first-named
being the most intelligent, and in that warm, tropical climate wore no
clothing except a strip of native cloth around the loins. Ashman had
striven to teach them the use of firearms, but they could never
overcome the terror caused by the jet of fire and the thunderous
explosion when the things were discharged. They, therefore, clung to
their spears, which, having honest points, cannot be said to have been
very formidable weapons in their hands, even though each native was
able to throw them with remarkable deftness and accuracy.

The sail that had served the explorers so well, where the Xingu was
broader and with a slower current, became useless, or at least proved
unequal to the task of overcoming the force of the stream.
Consequently they had recourse to the broad-bladed oars, with which
they drove the canoe swiftly against the resisting river, cheered by
the oft-repeated declaration of the Professor, whose spirits never
flagged, that the harder it proved going up stream, the easier must it
be in descending, and that the arrangement was much better tha