"Tell him," he explained to Bulala, "to put the shiny end in his mouth and then pull this little lever here--that'll squirt the nice drink into his tummy."

Galla Galla did as Bulala directed. A peculiar expression over-spread his evil face and then he commenced to spit, to the great astonishment not only of himself but of the assembled warriors, for Galla Galla was undeniably spitting blue. The effect upon him was astonishing and rather terrifying. He leaped about like a mad man, emitting strange noises which were interspersed with remarks that the boys were positive were not at all nice; but the remarkable part of the performance was that he vented all his rage upon Bulala, striking and kicking the poor fellow unmercifully.

"Tell him it won't hurt him," yelled Dick, fearful now of the results of Doc's joke. "Tell him white men drink it to make them strong," and when Bulala had succeeded in transmitting this information to Galla Galla the chief immediately calmed down but for a long time thereafter, he continued to spit blue.

The boys had now emptied their pockets, but each clung to his knife, attempting to hide it from the eyes of the greedy Galla Galla. The attempt was vain; a filthy, pinkish palm was extended toward Doc who needed no one to interpret the cannibal's demands into gimme, gimme, gimme! It was then that an idea came to Doc that was little short of inspiration. His eyes snapped and sparkled.

"Why not?" he demanded aloud.

"Why not what?" asked Dick.

"Watch me!" cried Doc.

Galla Galla was becoming insistent--he was demanding in peremptory tones that Doc deliver the knife forthwith. But Doc did nothing of the kind. Instead, he held up his left palm outstretched for silence, then he opened his right hand, exposing to the view of all the coveted knife.

"Tell them," he said to Bulala, "to watch me closely and I will show them a trick they never saw before."

"Big medicine?" asked Bulala.

Doc seized upon the words. "Big medicine!" he cried. "That's the idea, Bulala! Tell 'em I'm going to make some big medicine with a capital B."

Even Galla Galla seemed impressed as the white boy covered the knife with his left palm. Doc clasped his hands and blew upon them. Then he raised them above his head. "Abacadabra!" he shouted. "Allo, presto, change cars and begone! Now you see it, now you don't." He opened his hands and held them palms up. The knife had vanished! The chief was greatly puzzled. He looked all about for the knife and when he came close to Doc the latter reached suddenly toward him and apparently extracted the missing article from Galla Galla's left ear. This was evidently too much for the savage old cannibal. He leaped backward so quickly that he stumbled and fell sprawling over the stool upon which he had been sitting. The blow to his dignity had a bad effect upon his temper,--none too good at best. He came to his feet fairly bubbling with rage and angrily demanded that the boys remove their clothing and don the rags that had been brought them.

"Hang on to your knife as long as you can," admonished Doc. "I think I can save 'em both when I get my new minus-fours wrapped around me. How do you put this stuff on, anyway?"

"Ask Bulala," advised Dick. And that worthy showed the boys how to wrap the cloth about their hips and carry the end between their legs so that a little apron fell down in front and another behind.

All this time the two boys had managed to conceal their knives, but, at last, Galla Calla again demanded them. Doc was desperate. "We mustn't give them up, Dick," he said, "they're the only useful things we have. By Jimminy crickets! I won't give 'em up!" He turned to Bulala. "Tell that fat boy that if anyone takes this medicine away from us, it will kill him; but that if he doesn't want us to keep them, we will send them away. Watch!" He exposed his own knife and repeated the mystic signs and words that he had used before--and the knife was gone. Then he took Dick's knife and did the same things.