Well, one thing was certain, he ought to let his people know that he was still alive before they got out of hearing. Nicky drew his revolver and fired two shots quick with it. A whoop came from up on the mountain. They were watching the slope still! Then two shots from Dwight’s automatic barked, muffled, from over the shoulder of the cone. It sounded as if from the jungle. They would either wait for him there or circle, the boy reasoned. Probably the latter, and he could rejoin them down below at the foot of the slope. And now was the time to run, for he could hear the hill men above calling for their companions and presently the whole tribe would be back. Nicky rose and jumped down the slope. He got a glimpse over his shoulder of two tiny black fellows dancing and hurling rocks impotently, and then gave all his attention to getting down, for the slide was steeper than a log chute. Swiftly the jungle seemed to rise up to meet him, and with a final bound he reached the friendly shelter of the trees and darted out of sight. Then, for the first time, his aching, bruised leg forced itself into consciousness and he began to limp. Directing shots between him and Dwight gave them his location, and then calls and shouts brought them together. Dwight came running through the jungle, grinning with joy. “Gee! old man, we’d given you up for lost!” he yelled, capering about and punching Nicky with delight. “Got all the plunder with you, too, haven’t you!” “Sure!” gurgled Nicky, happily. “That’s what this war’s all about! Where’s Mr. Baldwin?” “Back there a bit, waiting for us,” said Dwight. “We got to make time. Forced march all night.” “Going to be a wet one, too!” retorted Nicky, limping along as a mutter of thunder came rolling up from the south. “We’d better keep the tent flies out.” They rejoined the curator, who noticed the game leg as soon as Nicky came up. “Tough luck, kid!” he said, after congratulations had been exchanged. “I’ll have to ask you to grin and bear it as best you can, for we’ve got our work cut out for us to-night!” He drew his compass, took a bearing--and started _south_, through the jungle! A general grunt of amazement ran through the party. “Why, Mr. Baldwin, I thought we were to hurry north, so as to get back to the canoe ahead of them!” cried Dwight, voicing the feeling of them all.