"The other man died from poison. I lived only to revenge myself on those foul outlaws. There was much rubber of the coronel's, worth much money at that time, in the camp they had raided. So, after driving me like a beast to their stronghold in the hills of Peru, they came back with boats and Indian porters to get out that rubber. "On that return journey I tried to kill the leader, who was called El Amarillo--yellow-skinned. I failed, and he had me nailed with long thorns to a tree where I might hang in torment for days, dying slowly. See. Here are the marks." All three of the Americans had noticed on the previous day that each of Lourenço's hands was disfigured by a scar which looked as if a spike had been driven through. Now he held those hands forward for their inspection. Then he pulled off his loose shirt and rolled up his trousers. They saw other scars in the big muscles before the armpits, in the soft flesh under the ribs, in the thighs and calves. "The dirty Hun!" Tim grated. "That was not all, Senhor Tim. They also put fire ants on me, which bit so cruelly that I nearly lost my mind from pain. Then they went on, intending to have more sport with me when they came back with the rubber. But after they left me two hunters of the cannibal tribe who had been following a tapir's track found me and took me down from the tree. "Now the Peccaries before this had stolen some women from a Mayoruna _maloca_ and were treating them like dogs--I saw one of those women brutally murdered while I was captive in the outlaw camp. I managed to tell the two hunters I could lead them to the Peccary stronghold and give them revenge. They carried me to their _maloca_--I could not walk--and told their chief what I had said. The chief caused my hurts to be cured, and then I kept my promise. "I guided the savages to the outlaw camp; they surrounded it, and in the fight that followed every Peccary was killed except their leader. Now that cannibal chief has not forgotten me--" "Wait a minute," protested Knowlton. "Did that Peccary leader escape?" "No. He was kept alive until a big herd of peccaries was met. Then, because he called himself 'King of the Peccaries,' he was nailed to a tree, as I had been, and told to make the peccaries take out the thorns. The wild pigs tore him into ribbons with their tusks." Calmly he donned his shirt again. Tim, staring at him, twitched his shoulders as if a chill had gone down his back. "Ugh!" muttered Knowlton. "So now," Lourenço resumed, "if I can find that chief again--he may have been killed in some tribal fight before now--he may be friendly to all of us. Or he may not. Savages cannot be relied on with much certainty. But if any of the Mayorunas will help us, he will. It is worth trying." "And if he is not friendly--" Knowlton paused. "We do not come back," Pedro finished. "Have you a better plan?" All shook their heads.