By and by I was startled by the long, piercing cry of a wildfowl,
sounding strangely loud in the silence; and no sooner was the air
still again than it struck me that no bird had uttered that cry.
The Indian is a good mimic of animal voices, but practice had
made me able to distinguish the true from the false bird-note.
For a minute or so I stood still, at a loss what to do, then
moved on again with greater caution, scarcely breathing,
straining my sight to pierce the shadowy depths. All at once I
gave a great start, for directly before me, on the projecting
root in the deeper shade of a tree, sat a dark, motionless human
form. I stood still, watching it for some time, not yet knowing
that it had seen me, when all doubts were put to flight by the
form rising and deliberately advancing--a naked Indian with a
zabatana in his hand. As he came up out of the deeper shade I
recognized Piake, the surly elder brother of my friend Kua-ko.
It was a great shock to meet him in the wood, but I had no time
to reflect just then. I only remembered that I had deeply
offended him and his people, that they probably looked on me as
an enemy, and would think little of taking my life.
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