If the birds gave a certain kind
of chirp and flew in a certain direction, then all was well, and
the hunters would go happily forward. But if the birds acted in
the opposite way, nothing in the world could persuade the chief
to go on. Evidently the birds gave their permission to bring the
travelers home, for in spite of many halts, the savages still
moved forward.
They had been struggling for some miles through underbrush and
prickly rattan and the white men's clothes were torn and their
hands scratched. Now, however, they came upon a well-beaten path,
winding up the mountainside, and it proved a great relief to the
weary travelers. But here occurred another delay. The savages all
stopped, and the chief approached Mackay and spoke to him through
the interpreter. Would the white man join him in a head-hunting
expedition, was his modest request. There were some Chinese not
so far below them, cutting out rattan, and he was sure they could
secure one or more heads. He shook the big net head-bag that hung
over his shoulder and grinned savagely as he made his proposal.
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