"Another battery gone," he announced, opening the case and dropping its contents into the creek. "Ho-yo-ho-hum! Gee! I'm all in! Eyes feel like a couple of burnt holes. Well, gents, I move that at the first available spot we go ashore, feed our faces, look at the ladies, and perform our morning salute to Umanuh--said salute consisting of applying the right thumb to the end of the nose and snappily twiddling four fingers." "Motion carried." McKay's set face relaxed. Then, his glance dropping to the Raposa, it tightened again. "Oh, hullo, Rand! How you feeling?" The unconscious man was unconscious no longer. Moreover, his expression was not that of one just emerging from a stupor and bewildered as to his surroundings. Though he had made no movement to change his position, his eyes indicated that he had been awake for some time. They dwelt steadily on McKay, then strayed past the captain to Pedro, Lourenço, and the first Mayoruna crew following a few feet behind. His face was inscrutable, and he spoke no word. "You're with friends. Understand? Friends. You're going home. These Indians are friends, too. Get that? _Friends!_" The green eyes hung on McKay's face again; but, as before, no answer came in word, movement, or expression. "No good, Rod," said Knowlton, who could not see the rescued man's face, but watched McKay's. "'Fraid I knocked his last brains down his throat. Dead from the neck up." "I don't know about that. He doesn't look vacant. See here, Rand. We're going to land and eat! You hungry? Uh-huh. Thought you'd understand that. He's alive, Merry. Maybe not all here, but enough to get us." "Good!" The blond man turned his attention downstream again. Soon he suggested, "How about landing at that little open space down there at the left, Lourenço?" "Very good, senhor. It looks dry." The canoe swerved and floated down to a spot on the left shore where bright light poured down from an opening in the overhead wall of foliage. "Now look here, Rand," warned the captain. "We'll untie you. But if you try to duck into the bush, now or later, you get shot. Shot! Understand?" He tapped his pistol, and the gray eyes boring into the green ones were hard as chilled steel. For the first time Rand responded--a slow, short nod. McKay cut the cord around the wild man's ankles, then stepped ashore and held out a hand. Rand arose quietly, jumped to the earth unassisted, lifted his bad foot and stared at it, then limped onward into a spot where the sun now shone bright and warm, and sat down to bask. "Have to fix that foot, I expect," yawned Knowlton. "But my eyes right now are one solid ache, and I'm going to rest them. Watch him, will you, Rod? Can't tell what he might do. Of course you wouldn't shoot him, but--" "Wouldn't I? Not to kill, no. But if he makes one break I'll drill a leg for him. He's going to the States!" "Sure. I'm with you all the way. Now beat it and let me repose myself."