When the captives were securely bound, the captors
began to discuss the situation in their own language, which was the
only language they understood. There was evidently some difference of
opinion, but after a few minutes they came to some kind of an
agreement. The legs of the prisoners were unbound, and they were made
to march through the jungle, each one with two guards behind him, who
pricked him with their lances if he did not move fast enough. Their
only other arms seemed to be bows and arrows. The march was a very
weary one, and through a wild, mountainous country which would have
been impassable for men who did not know it thoroughly. Occasionally
they seemed to be following obscure paths, but as often there was no
sign of a track, and the thick, tropical vegetation made progress
difficult. For an hour or two they climbed up the half-dry bed of a
mountain torrent, and more than once they were ankle-deep in swampy
ground. The Moritos passed through the jungle with the agility and
noiselessness of cats, but the three white men floundered along as best
they could. Their captors uttered never a word and would not allow them
to speak.
The sun was just rising over a wilderness of mountains when they came
to a small clearing in the woods, apparently upon a plateau near the
top of a mountain. In this clearing there were a number of isolated
trees, in each one of which, at about twenty feet above the ground,
was a native hut, looking like a huge bird's nest.
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