"Find a spot where we can make camp," he said. "I must stay here to speak to the wild men if words are needed." Reluctantly Pedro went away. Soon he was back with news of a suitable place. He found all bending closer over Yuara, whose breathing had become stertorous and whose eyes seemed fixed. "Going!" was the bushman's thought. But the others would not have it so. "How 'bout a shot o' booze to jolt his heart, Cap?" suggested Tim, whose whole soul was in the fight. McKay nodded. Knowlton quickly produced brandy and poured a stiff dose down Yuara's throat. It took hold at once, and light came back into the Indian's eyes. "Got a good chance yet," McKay asserted. "Don't loosen that tourniquet. Let the arm mortify, if necessary, but hold that blood away from the heart at all costs. I'll chop his arm off at the shoulder before I'll give in." His hard-set face showed he meant it. Lourenço spoke to the Mayorunas, urging that camp be made at once. He and Pedro strode away, and all three of the Indians followed. "Really think he'll pull through, Rod?" Knowlton asked, then. "If he does you're a miracle worker." "It's an experiment," McKay confessed, watching Yuara with unswerving intentness. "Never saw this done, but it's worth a try--and I honestly believe it will work. I saved an Indian over in Guiana once by cutting off his arm as soon as he was hit, but I want to keep this fellow's arm for him if possible. Feed him some more salt." Time passed unheeded. Sounds of labor not far off told that camp was being built. Presently the absent five returned, two of the Mayorunas carrying a crude but strong litter constructed from saplings and giant-fern leaves. McKay rose stiffly on cramped legs. "All right. You can move him," he consented. Carefully Yuara was lifted to the litter and transported to the new camp. There the Americans found not only the open shed, or _tambo_, usually constructed by the Brazilians, but also a somewhat similar shelter erected by the Indians. In the latter stood two stout crotched stakes, firmly braced--the handiwork of Pedro and Lourenço. And to these, with tough bush rope, the Indians fastened the litter of Yuara, thus forming a rude but effective hammock. While McKay and Knowlton continued their ministrations to the stricken man the rest of the camp work was completed, the Mayorunas making hanging beds for themselves from withes, leaves, and bush cord, and the Brazilians slinging the hammocks of their own party and opening packs. Night fell and the wounded man lived on. Supper was eaten, pipes smoked, the regular activities of the early hours of darkness gone through--and Yuara lived on. His deep breathing had become automatic, and his eyes stared straight up in concentration on his battle with the death demon. At length he was seized with violent nausea which convulsed him for a time. But when the spasms passed he lay back more easily, and a faint smile flitted over his face as he looked at the white men.