Arthur O. Friel

“ Andirah sat a moment considering. While he hesitated the pajé growled again.
“Andirah, chief of the people of the Bat, does what he will with his own prisoners. He takes no command from any man.”
The priest had turned Senhor Tom's own weapon against us. As before, the old chief was quick to assert his power when reminded of it.
“The man is the prisoner of the Bat,” he agreed. “The Bat will deal with him at his own time. Tupahn shall have what is his. The Bat also shall keep what is his. Tupahn must hunt his woman in the forest. She is not here.” ”

“ No man of the Bat ever followed Black Hawk. No man of the Bat hurts women. No woman has been brought here.
“The men of the Bat found at the water two men. One was a man of Black Hawk. That man had done evil to the people of Andirah in time gone by. For that evil he was killed today by the men of Andirah.
“The other man was brought here. It was his trail which came to this maloca. Tupahn has followed the wrong trail.”
Numbly we stood there after the chief's words ended. The Bat, honest as ever, looked straight at us. The priest and the other Tucunas stood wooden-faced. ”

“ The shriveled lips of old Andirah opened. But before he could speak the pajé made answer, and the chief's words died.
“So Tupahn the Thunderstorm, killer of Black Hawk, was unable to keep his own woman? With two men to aid him, he is robbed of his goods—and a woman?”
The sneer this time was plain. Senhor Tom's face reddened. I bit my tongue to keep from making an angry answer.
“Tupahn was shot from behind,” barked Senhor Tom. “No man can guard himself against a snake that strikes from under a bush. His comrades were away in the forest. ”