Arthur O. Friel, The Peccaries (1920)
“ Then, in the darkness of the doorway I spied the sickly yellow face of the man who had nailed me to the tree and who now, no doubt, was putting some fresh deviltry into the heads of his followers. And for the first time since my comrades and I had smelled those peccaries in the bush, senhores, I laughed as I thought that even while that merciless band plotted more murder and torment, death was creeping silently around them, and the fate they planned for others soon would burst upon themselves. And the savages, understanding, grinned back at me a sharp-toothed grin of death and hate. ”
