Fate's retribution was adequate. There emerged a rat with a man's head and face. _It's a poor science that would hide from us the great, deep, sacred infinitude of Nescience, whither we can never penetrate, on which all science swims as mere superficial film._ --_Carlyle_. [Illustration: _Sir Basil showed his teeth in his ugly smile. "A creator is never merciful."_] The two _bataloes_ turned from the open waters of the lower Tapajos River into the _igarape_, the lily-smothered shallows that often mark an Indian settlement in the jungles of Brazil. One of the two half-breed rubber-gatherers suddenly stopped his _bataloe_ by thrusting a paddle against a giant clump of lilies. In a corruption of the Tupi dialect, he called over to the white man occupying the other frail craft. "We dare go no farther, master. The country of the Ungapuks is bewitched. It is too dangerous." Fearfully he stared over his shoulder toward a spot in the slimy water where a dim bulk moved, which was only an alligator hunting for his breakfast. Hale Oakham, as long and lanky and level-eyed as Charles Lindbergh, ran despairing fingers through his damp hair and groaned. "But how can I find this jungle village without a guide?" The _caboclo_ shrugged. "The village will find you. It is bewitched, master. But you will soon see the path through the _matto_." "Can't you stay by me until time to land? I don't like the looks of these alligators." "It is better for a white man to face an alligator than for a _caboclo_ to face an Ungapuk. Once they used to kill and eat us for our strength. Now--" Again his shrug was eloquent. "Now?" Hale prompted impatiently. "The white god who put a spell on these one-time cannibals will bewitch us and make us wash and rejoice when it is time to die." * * * * * He shuddered and spat at a cayman that was lumbering away from his _bataloe._ Hale Oakham laughed, a hearty boyish laugh for a rather learned young professor. "Is that all they do to you?" he asked. "No. All who enter this magic _matto_ die soon, rejoicing. Before the last breath comes, it is said their bodies turn into a handful of silver dust--poof!--like that." He snapped his dirty fingers. "Then the life that leaves them goes into rocks that walk." Hale sighed resignedly. There wasn't any use to argue. "Unload your _bataloe_," he ordered testily, "and get your filthy carcasses away." The half-breeds obeyed readily. As the departing _bataloe_ turned from the _igarape_ into the open water of the river, the young man repressed a sudden lifting of his scalp. He was in for it now! His long body sprawled out in the _bataloe_, he paddled about aimlessly for several minutes until he found an aisle through the jungle--the path that led to the jungle village which he was visiting in the name of science, and for a certain award.