“The water is full of crocodiles. You won’t go in when you see them, and then they,” pointing to the others, “will see how brave you are. And if you do go in you’ll be eaten in a minute, because you can’t swim well enough to----” “I’ll go at any time and place you say and I’ll do anything you will. Right now suits me. Now come on, or shut up,” David interrupted him hotly. Miguel flushed and moved his feet uneasily, but there was now no getting out of it. “The lagoon,” he said grimly. “We’ll go to the lagoon.” “No, Miguel; not there.” One of the men stepped forward as if to stop him. “It is full of _caimen_ and they are the largest and most savage of any place. Go to the river.” “Get out of the way!” Miguel pushed him aside. David had not even heard that there was a lagoon in the neighborhood, but followed his challenger as he walked away. Without fully realizing what he was doing he still retained hold of the rope. In his belt he had only the long brush knife each man carried; the revolver was in his hammock in the shack where he invariably placed it upon his return from the forest at noon. The men who had been present followed the two in a straggling line. The thing that was about to happen might have a thrilling ending and they did not want to miss it. Miguel took a trail that was new to David and walked rapidly through the semi-gloom of the heavy jungle. He was grimly silent. He realized the serious nature of the mission; he had spoken hastily and now regretted his conduct. But, much to his surprise, David had accepted promptly, and now, with the others following, there was nothing to do but see the thing through. After half an hour’s walk, during which no one spoke, they reached a point where the forest grew thinner and the patches of sky showing through the branches ahead of them were larger. They were coming to the jungle’s end. Then the trees were replaced by a growth of brush in scattered clumps and the ground was soggy underfoot. Ahead of them glistened a sheet of water fringed with reeds and grass. Here and there was a cluster of tall, feathery bamboo in which large, crested birds were fluttering and croaking. A number of tall herons, frightened from their places of concealment by the newcomers, flapped heavily across the opening, voicing their resentment in hoarse squawks. A more desolate place would be hard to picture, but Miguel did not falter. He picked his way carefully over the muddy path and made straight for the lagoon, David not ten feet in back of him and the others bringing up the rear. It happened so suddenly that at first David did not know what took place. Miguel was just rounding one of the dense clumps of bushes when he gave a wild cry of terror and sank down into the grass. There was a struggle of some kind going on. The tall blades beside the trail waved and crumpled; there was the sound of a heavy body thumping in the mud; and Miguel’s screams filled the air.