The fat boy helped himself liberally to the meat.  He tasted of it gingerly at first, then went at it greedily.

“That is the finest beef I ever ate,” he said enthusiastically.

“You shouldn’t make remarks about the food,” whispered Tad.  “They may not like it.”

“I hope they don’t like it.  There’ll be all the more left for me.”

“I don’t mean the food, I mean your remarks about it.”

“Oh!”

“How many persons are there in your tribe, chief?” asked the Professor politely.

The chief looked at Dad.

“Two hundred and fifty, Professor,” the guide made answer for their host.  “They are a fine lot of Indians, too.”

“Including the squaws, two hundred and fifty?”

“Yes.”

“Do they not sit down with us?” asked Professor Zepplin, glancing up at Chi-i-wa and some of her sisters, who were standing muffled in their blankets, despite the heat of the day, gazing listlessly at the diners.

“Certainly not in the presence of the white man or heads of other tribes,” answered Jim.

“Say, what is this meat?” whispered Chunky again, helping himself to another slice.

“Don’t you know what that is?” answered Ned Rector.

“No.  If I did, I shouldn’t have asked.”

“Why, that’s lion meat.”

“Li—–­li—–­lion meat?” gasped the boy.

“Sure thing.”

Stacy appeared to suffer a sudden loss of appetite.  He grew pale about the lips, his head whirled dizzily.  Whether it were from the pipe of peace or the meat, he never knew.  He did know that he was a sick boy almost on the instant.  With a moan he toppled over on his back.

“I’m going to die,” moaned the fat boy.  “Carry me off somewhere.  I don’t want to die here,” he begged weakly.

They placed him under the shade of a tree but instead of getting better the boy got worse:  The Professor was disturbed.

“Put pale-face boy in to-hol-woh,” grunted the chief.  “To-hol-woh!” he exclaimed sharply.

Three squaws ran to a low structure of branches that were stuck into the ground, bent in and secured at the middle until it resembled an Esquimo hut in shape.  The frame made by the branches was uncovered, but the women quickly threw some brightly colored blankets over the frame, the boys watching the proceeding with keen interest.  They then hauled some hot rocks from a fire near by, thrusting these under the blankets into the enclosure, after which a pail of water also was put inside.

“Put fat boy in,” commanded the Kohot.  “Take um clothes off.”

Chunky demurred feebly at this.  The Professor glanced at Dad inquiringly.  Dad nodded, grinning from ear to ear.

“It’s a sort of Russo-Turkish bath.  It’ll do him good.  Wouldn’t mind one myself right now,” said Nance.

“All right, boys, fix him up and get him in.”

“Dress him down, you mean,” chuckled Ned.