"He does not have to pick them Senhor Tim. They pick him. He and the subchiefs are the only ones who can take more than one wife. When a girl wishes to become the wife of the great chief or of a subchief, she works for months making feather dresses and necklaces and hammocks, and when these are done she gives them all to him. If he likes her well enough he accepts the gifts and allows her to be a wife to him." "Yeah? And she's flattered to death, I s'pose. Wisht they'd start somethin' like that up home, or, anyways, fix it so's a feller could get an even break. Way it is now, a feller blows in every dollar he's got, and then when he's fixin' to git the ring the girl leaves him flat for some other guy that 'ain't spent his dough yet. Yo-ho-hum! I'm goin' to take a snooze right there on the table. Wake me up, somebody, when the next mess call blows." And with no further ado he shut his eyes and drowsed. His companions lolled for some time, smoking and watching the family life of the ordinary members of the tribe, nodding now and then to some friendly-looking young fellow, but ignoring the mischievous glances of the girls. Monitaya himself lay back in his hammock and dozed. His wives, stepping nonchalantly among the strangers, cleared away the remnants of the feast by the simple process of eating them. Then they carried off the clay vessels. For another hour all hands rested. Then Monitaya sat up, stretched his big arms, looked casually around the house to see that all was well, and smiled down at his guests. Lourenço, rising to a squat, began a new conversation. After a while he turned to McKay. "The Red Bones and the Mayorunas are neither friendly nor hostile toward each other, and there is little communication between them," he reported. "From those _malocas_ to the town of the Red Bones is a journey of five long days, so the men of Monitaya hardly ever go there. "The Raposa whom we seek is known to the men of Monitaya, but he never has come here to the tribal houses. Hunters from this place have met him at times roving the wild forests, and some of the younger men fear him as the bad spirit of the jungle. The Mayorunas believe in two spirits or demons, one good and one bad, and the bad one is said to roam the wilderness, seeking lone wanderers, whom he kills and eats; the people sometimes hear this demon howling at night in the dark of the moon. So the young men have thought the Raposa might be this demon and have avoided him--it would do no good to try to kill a demon, and it would only make their own deaths more sure and horrible.