The eager questions that he would have asked froze upon his lips, for a party of Indians approached. The six nearly naked red men came close and surveyed him, toying nervously with their primitive, feather-decorated weapons. A tall, handsome young fellow who possessed something of the picturesque perfection of the North American plains' Indian stepped forward and, in perfect English, said: "Good morning, white stranger. What is it you wish of the Ungapuks?" "I came to see your white _cacique_," said Hale. "Aimu? What is it you wish of Aimu? He is ours, white stranger." "Yes, he is yours. I come as a friend, perhaps to help him in his great work." "Perhaps!" The young Indian folded his bronze, muscular arms over his broad chest and continued his cool survey of Hale. "White men before you have come: spies and thieves. Some we poisoned with curari. Others Aimu took into the Room of Release." He turned to Ana, who was still standing by Hale, and his expression softened. "What shall we do with him, Ana?" he asked the question, a fleeting look of hunger swept his fine, flashing eyes. Ana flushed beautifully, and, moving closer to Hale, with an impulsive, almost childish gesture, slipped her arm through his. "Let us take him to our village, Unani Assu!" she suggested. "I like him." It was Hale's turn to flush, which he did like a schoolboy. * * * * * Unani Assu's brows drew together in a scowl. The hand holding his blow-pipe jerked convulsively. "Ana! Come away!" he growled. "You mustn't touch a stranger!" Ana's blue eyes stretched with astonishment. "But I like to touch him, Unani Assu!" The tall Indian, with a half comical gesture of despair, said: "Don't misunderstand her, stranger. She is young, very young, ah! And she has known only the reborn men of the Ungapuks." He stepped firmly over to Ana, and, taking the girl by the arm, drew her away. "Run ahead," he commanded, "and tell Aimu that we come." Ana, her feathered bamboo anklets clicking together, sped away. Unani Assu bowed courteously to Hale. "Come, stranger. If you are an enemy, it is you who must fear." He motioned for him to proceed down the jungle path. The path ended at a clearing studded with _moloccas_, the Indian grass huts made of plaited straw. Altogether the scene was peaceful and sane and far removed from the strange tales that Hale had heard concerning the Ungapuks. Hale was conducted to a long, low stone building, where, in the doorway, stood a tall and emaciated white man. "Aimu!" said the Indians reverently, and bowed themselves. Over the bare, brown backs, the white man looked at Hale. "Sir Basil Addington?" asked the young man. "Yes. You are welcome. Come in." Hale entered the building. * * * * *