“Ye have seen the silent death, also,” said Baderoon, raising his voice at the curator’s prompting. “Do not eat the pig; it is taboo.” One of the old men took off his boars’-tusk breastplate and stepped forward and laid it on the ground. He testified that it was a present. At a sign from the curator Baderoon fetched it. The scientist examined it curiously. The white tusks were laid in rows, one atop the other, and their ends were bound with fiber network, thickly ornamented with polished red beads. The curator started with astonishment as he looked closely at them. “Ask him where they get those red beads, Baderoon.” There was some talk and waving of arms, and then Baderoon turned to the curator. “Him get’m big mountain--down there,” he said, pointing to the south. “Mus’ fight litty hill men for him. Prenty too-much trophy.” “Tell him the white man is pleased, and will give a present, too.” The curator undid his red-silk bandanna, and Baderoon bore it over ceremoniously and laid it before the chief. The latter grinned, for the first time, and they could see that he was dying to handle it. He nodded at the curator with beaming eyes and made the pantomime of rubbing noses. “Nothing doing!” snorted the curator. “That’s where the earlier explorers all lose out! The natives soon find out we’re ordinary, vulnerable human beings, if you let them get too familiar. Tell him, Baderoon, that the white man says to start his runners at once, and never to touch another white man so long as he lives! Farewell!” He turned to go as Baderoon translated. They walked back to the canoes and picked out a small one, more easy to handle. Shoving off, they paddled down the lagoon, the curator sitting silently in the stern, for he knew that curious eyes were watching him from the jungle. A repressed eagerness shone in his own as he still examined curiously the boars’-tusk breastplate in his hands. “Well--I guess that’ll hold ’em for a time--eh, boys?” he smiled, raising his eyes from it at length when they had left the village landing far behind. “And--I may have something important to tell you after we reach camp!” “Some weapon, that air pistol of yours, sir!” said Nicky, admiringly. “How did you ever get such an idea?”