"See," she said. "It seems to have been dipped in something. It is
quite discolored."

Jenks frowned peculiarly. A startling explanation had suggested itself
to him. Fragments of forgotten lore were taking cohesion in his mind.

"Put it down. Quick!" he cried.

Iris obeyed him, with wonder in her eyes. He spilled a teasponful of
champagne into a small hollow of the rock and steeped one of the
fish-bones in the liquid. Within a few seconds the champagne assumed a
greenish tinge and the bone became white. Then he knew.

"Good Heavens!" he exclaimed, "these are poisoned arrows shot through a
blowpipe. I have never before seen one, but I have often read about
them. The bamboos the Dyaks carried were sumpitans. These fish-bones
have been steeped in the juice of the upas tree. Iris, my dear girl, if
one of them had so much as scratched your finger nothing on earth could
save you."

She paled and drew back in sudden horror. This tiny thing had taken the
semblance of a snake. A vicious cobra cast at her feet would be less
alarming, for the reptile could be killed, whilst his venomous fangs
would only be used in self-defence.

Another tap sounded on their thrice-welcome covering. Evidently the
Dyaks would persist in their efforts to get one of those poisoned darts
home.

Jenks debated silently whether it would be better to create a