would be ready for it, Biff felt sure. Soon Biff drifted into a fitful sleep from which he awoke at intervals. Sometimes he heard the crackle of the fire and decided that his father must have thrown on a log and then gone back to sleep. For, each time, Biff saw the figure of Mr. Brewster covered by the rubber poncho, near the pile of logs that had become much smaller during the night. It must have been the fourth or fifth awakening, when Biff saw someone move into the firelight’s flicker.

It was Luiz. He crept forward. Crouched above the quiet form, Luiz thrust his hand downward as if to reach into the sleeper’s pocket.

The figure under the poncho seemed to stir. Luiz recoiled quickly and sped his hand to his hip. Before Biff could shout a warning, Luiz had whipped out his long knife into sight and driven it straight down at the helpless shape beneath him.

CHAPTER IX The Shrunken Heads

CHAPTER IX

Wildly, Biff tumbled from his hammock to the soggy ground. Coming to his hands and knees, he started forward just as another figure sprang into the firelight, too late to halt Luiz’s knife. The newcomer grabbed Luiz’s shoulders and spun the little man full about. For a moment, Luiz poised his blade as though planning to counter the attack.

Instead, he uttered an unearthly shriek, as though he had seen a ghost. Biff was startled, too, but his cry was a glad one. Etched against the firelight, Biff saw his dad’s face looking down at Luiz.

Tom Brewster himself was the man who had interrupted Luiz’s deadly work. The figure under the poncho, Biff realized, must be a dummy.

As the two men struggled for possession of the knife, they kicked the dummy apart with their feet. Suddenly Luiz managed to wrench free and dashed off into the jungle.

Mr. Brewster didn’t bother to start after the terrified guide. But Hal Whitman came rushing from the shelter waving a revolver. Mr. Whitman fired a few wild shots in the direction that Luiz had taken. The crackling of jungle plants came back like echoes, indicating that the gunfire had spurred Luiz’s mad flight.

“That’s enough, Hal,” laughed Mr. Brewster. “The fellow is so badly scared he won’t stop running until he reaches Serbot’s camp.”

“And the more he runs,” returned Mr. Whitman, “the more difficulty he will have finding it in 

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