We had been joined in pairs and were now made to march away from the sea-coast and toward the native village of Bumwoga, a collection of ramshackle bamboo huts, the same we had seen from the top of the hill at the time the Dart was located. We were in the custody of one-half of the chief's guard, the other natives moving off for the vessel, to loot her of whatever came handy.
At the village we met the first Tagal women, creatures by no means bad-looking. They were almost as simply dressed as their husbands and brothers. There were also a great number of little children, who stared at us with eyes as big as moons and then dove into the huts out of sight, fearful that the nooga-nu, or bogie-men, had come to carry them away.
The sun still beat down fiercely, and by the time the center of the village was gained I was ready to drop from exhaustion. Indeed, I did stagger. Seeing this, Tom Dawson, who had been bound to me, braced me up, and then we sank on a grassy mound close to a tall mahogany tree. As we remained quiet, no one, for the time being, disturbed us.
The village of Bumwoga was certainly a curious-looking place, and under other circumstances I would have viewed all that it contained with much interest. But just now my interest
