ock, a muttered
exclamation at his elbow announced that the savages had located him.

"Curse you!" he exclaimed, whipping out his revolver and letting fly in
the dark at the point where he knew several of his foes were standing,
waiting for a chance to hurl their missiles at him.

A screech announced that the bullet had found its mark, and he followed
it with a couple more shots, which inflicted wounds, even if they
caused no mortal ones.

The effect of this volley was to throw the natives into consternation
and panic. There is nothing go appalling as an unknown peril, and the
flashes of fire lighting up the gloom sent them flying toward their
village.

The path was open for the young man's escape, but could he leave the
body of his friend behind?

Alas! it was that all he could do, and unless that were done within the
next few minutes, it would be too late.

Stooping over, he grasped the shoulders of the body and drew it further
from the path, in the hope that it would remain unnoticed. Then he
loosed the Winchester from the death grip, removed the revolver, and
stepping back into the trail, started on his sorrowful return to his
friends.

"I wish they would follow me," he muttered; glaring into the gloom
behind him; "the man they have killed is worth more than the whole
tribe of miscreants."

He was in a savage mood, and, despite the fearful danger from the
poisoned arrows and spears, he yearned for another chance at the
wretches who fought so unfairly.

He held a couple of loaded and repeating Winchesters, with which he
could pour the most destructive of volleys among the savages, and he
longed for the opportunity; but the profound silence which followed the
fierce encounter was so striking that to Fred it all seemed like some
horrid vision of sleep.

But he dare not wait. These wretches had come from the direction of
the Xingu, and he was apprehensive of trouble at the camp, where the
three native attendants had been left. His services might be needed at
that very moment.

He did not run, but advanced with the stealth of an American Indian
stealing upon an enemy. It seemed to him his senses were strung to a
higher pitch than ever before, for he had not walked far, when he
became aware that some one was ahead of him, in the path and travelling
in the same direction.

As yet he could catch no glimpse of the stranger, but there could be no
mistake about the stealthy tread. He was sure, too, that