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 gunned for roast fowl. They doped us out as unbelievers and wanted to free our spirits over a well-prepared hecatomb. Tib offered to pay for the biddy, but they didn't understand him, and an old hag began to sharpen a vulgar-looking knife and croon a bit of folk-lore song, in which the nasal tones predominated. We were shoved into a dirty hut of bark and hides and left to ourselves for the time being, though the building was surrounded by guards. The first thing Tib did was to discover a pretty palm-leaf basket in the corner. He examined it and found it contained a skull and some miscellaneous bones.

That settles it, my boy, they would eat the father of the drama. I thought grandma's necklace was formed of the crooked teeth of the water-pig, but I can see now the molars once belonged to neighboring tribesmen, perhaps relatives.'

"In spite of the horror of the situation, Tib managed to keep up his spirit. He admitted that it was a disgrace to be eaten by such ignoramuses and that he should always feel ashamed of himself. 'But cheer up,' he cried. 'Tiberius Smith has never been eaten yet and doesn't intend now to contribute himself for a pink tea. I'll try and think of something before the curtain goes up.'

If we could only cut and run to that stream and make a raft, or steal one of their canoes, we could