Up from the bushes popped a group of tawny natives, wearing odd-shaped aprons made of hides decorated with bright feathers and large, dull beads. Their faces and bodies were streaked with scarlet dye that looked like war paint.
Some were holding bows, with arrows on drawn strings. Others were raising long blowguns to their lips. All were aimed toward a central target; the spot where Biff and Kamuka stood.
Biff felt himself sink inwardly as he heard Kamuka gasp the word: “Macu!”
Slowly, the Macu warriors closed in on the two boys. The sharp eyes that glared from painted faces were on the watch for even the slightest move.
Kamuka muttered to Biff, “Drop machete. Right away.”
As Kamuka let his machete fall, Biff did the same. The inner circle of Macus dropped their own weapons and sprang forward upon the boys.
The two were captured without a struggle. The Macus brought out rawhide bowstrings and tied the wrists of the prisoners behind them. They also tied their ankles together, but in hobble fashion, far enough apart so that they could still take short steps.
Two of their captors picked up the machetes. Another snatched Biff’s wrist watch and tugged it loose. Next, they were finding prizes in the pockets of the prisoners: Biff’s scout knife and his father’s metal mirror; the marbles and the little mirror that Kamuka had been given earlier in the day.
Kamuka seemed indifferent to all that happened. He braced his feet so that the Macus had trouble pushing him around. Biff copied that procedure and found that it helped. Their captors were in a hurry because all the while, the cries of the howler monkeys were becoming louder. Above the din, Kamuka said calmly, “If they hear this back at the safari, they will know that we are having trouble. They will come to help us.”
“But how will they know what is happening?”
Leaping monkeys formed dark red streaks against the deep green of the jungle foliage. A few Macus were guarding Biff and Kamuka. The rest spread out through the brush, where they squatted as they had originally. Gradually, the commotion lessened up in the treetops. Then, as the monkeys returned to normal, the Macus bobbed up again.
Now, their bows and blowguns were pointed upward. The air was suddenly filled with arrows and darts that found their marks high above. Monkeys began tumbling from the trees, while the rest scattered, howling louder than before. From the distance came answering chatter, like an alarm spreading through the jungle.
