H. Bedford-Jones

“ He leaned over the body of the yellow man, lifted it without apparent effort, and sent it after the boxes, hidden by the close-crowding jungle. Hampton and Job Warlock got their packs, and the cadaverous Indian beckoned them to the rivulet, which had a good sand bottom. Stepping up the stream, he shoved aside the tangle of vines and creepers, and the others followed him closely for a hundred feet, crouching close to the water and avoiding the heavy mass of foliage overhead. Then, unexpectedly, they emerged into another clearing, and a trail appeared going into the jungle. ”

“ Suddenly, when he had lighted his cigaret, El Hambre came to Hampton and touched his arm.
“You are looking for your brother, Don Ricardo, yes? You want to find this man Dias?”
“I came from the north in the same ship with him, and didn't know it until too late,” said Hampton bleakly. “Yes. Now I mean to find him, and my brother too.”
“Bueno!” The Indian made an imperative gesture. “Then come with me. I am alone, and it is not safe; the men of Dias would kill me if they knew that I was an enemy. We shall hunt that man together, we three. But come quickly, for others are on the trail. ”

“ That passenger is still in Panama City.”
“Well, what of it?” asked Hampton. “Who's the passenger?”
“A very beautiful woman,” said El Hambre, and smiled thinly. “A most beautiful and cruel woman, señores, with the heart of a tigre. It is said that her father was a wealthy merchant of Manila, and her mother a yellow woman—no one knows. It is through her that Dias is served by the yellow men—that is, they serve her, and hence serve him. That woman is more dangerous than many men.”
“And she is——”
“Señora Dias.” The Indian spat in the sand. “Or, as men call her, Doña Hermana.” ”