The tall, slender, mop-haired savages splashed through the creek, about twenty-five of them in the party, and they were armed with spears, bows, and clubs. Each man had a shield on his left arm, made of some tough wood, carved in red and white scrolls. They shouted and yelled at the curator’s party as they bunched together on the strand of the creek, and then came running swiftly down the pebbly drift, their long skinny legs shining with white amulets of sea shells. “Holler, ‘Friends!’ at them, Baderoon-boy,” said the curator as they came nearer, hesitating and staring at the white men. “_Muana komia!_” cried Baderoon, dropping his bow and shield in sign of amity. The natives yelled. Whether it was friendly or derisive they could not tell. Then they formed in an irregular line and began a war dance toward the party. “They’re showing off, I think,” declared the curator. “If they meant war, every man jack of them would have melted into the jungle and be shooting at us by now. Still, we’d better be on our guard.” He dug into a flap pocket of his belt and took out a trench grenade, while the boys loosened their revolver flaps cautiously, their shotguns hanging loosely in their arms. Sadok reached for his parang, but the curator stopped him. “Not yet, Sadok; we can’t make the first hostile move. I’ll give an order if I think they’re getting dangerous.” The natives came on, yelling and dancing. Most of them wore long white boars’ tusks through the nose and curving up around their cheeks, giving them a singularly fierce aspect. Some had white shell combs dangling low over their foreheads, and nearly all wore a collection of white shell rings hanging in their ears. They brandished their spears and clubs as they advanced and retreated, going through the pantomime of mimic warfare. They made diabolical faces and thrust out red tongues at the explorers as they came closer, but whether it was war or peace even Baderoon could not tell them. The boys watched the war dance, striving to quiet the shivers of apprehension that _would_ persist in rising. It was harder to bear there than any amount of fighting, and they had much preferred standing off any number of natives well hidden in the bush. At about fifteen yards off, the line of natives had worked themselves into furious action, stabbing with their spears at the air, the rows of hideous shields dancing like evil genii from some other world. As more of them spread out on each flank, a guttural shout came from one of the tallest.