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For hours the tiresome march was continued, until at last the guides halted,

apparently to consult each other as to the proper direction. By signs they made

known to Bulan that they did not agree upon the right course to pursue from

there on, and that they had decided that it would be best for each to advance a

little way in the direction he thought the right one while Bulan and his five

creatures remained where they were.

We will go but a little way," said the spokesman, "and then we shall return and

lead you in the proper direction."

Bulan saw no harm in this, and without a shade of suspicion sat down upon a

fallen tree and watched his two guides disappear into the jungle in opposite

directions. Once out of sight of the white man the two turned back and met a

short distance in the rear of the party they had deserted--in another moment they

were headed for the long-house from which they had started.

It was fully an hour thereafter that doubts began to enter Bulan's head, and as

the day dragged on he came to realize that he and his weird pack were alone and

lost in the heart of a strange and tangled web of tropical jungle.

No sooner had Bulan and his party disappeared in the jungle than Barunda and

Ninaka made haste to embark with the chest and the girl and push rapidly on up

the river toward the wild and inaccessible regions of the interior. Virginia

Maxon's strong hope of succor had been gradually waning as no sign of the

rescue party appeared as the day wore on. Somewhere behind her upon the

broad river she was sure a long, narrow native prahu was being urged forward in

pursuit, and that in command of it was the young giant who was now never for a

moment absent from her thoughts.

For hours she strained her eyes over the stern of the craft that was bearing her

deeper and deeper into the wild heart of fierce Borneo. On either shore they

occasionally passed a native long-house, and the girl could not help but wonder

at the quiet and peace which reigned over these little settlements. It was as

though they were passing along a beaten highway in the center of a civilized

community; and yet she knew that the men who lolled upon the verandahs,

puffing indolently upon their cigarettes or chewing betel nut, were all head

hunters, and that along the verandah rafters above them hung the grisly trophies

of their prowess.

Yet as she glanced from them to her new captors she could not but feel that she

would prefer captivity in one of the settlements they were passing--there at least

she might find an opportunity to communicate with her father, or be discovered

by the rescue party as it came up the river. The idea grew upon her as the day

The Monster Men