for several days the army spent their time building trenches and making a comfortable camp, while the army scouts learned all they could about the wild men and the lie of the land.

the red cross tent had been set up and the tiny cots looked very pretty, with their clean white sheets. fortunately, there had been little use for them, as the army had been unusually healthy, the only exception being the chinaman, who had been badly bitten by a pollywog, or tadpole, while he was taking a swim in the river.

there had been very little excitement in camp for some time. not a single wild man had been seen since the morning the army had landed on the raft and the soldiers had nothing much to do while off guard duty but to kill mosquitoes, which were thick about the camp.

early one morning the turk was called to the general’s tent, where he remained for some time.

“somethin’ doin’, i’ll bet,” thought the dunce, who was on guard duty at the time in front of headquarters.

something really was doing, for the turk was ordered to fly out at once and make a careful map of sabo island. the turk hurried to his tent, where he supplied himself with paper and pencils and a pair of tiny field glasses. the army airplane was dining on a fat worm when the turk arrived, so he sat down and waited until the bird had eaten his breakfast.

“we’ve got to go out and make a map of the wild men’s island,” said the turk.

“all right,” answered the bird, “i’m ready,” and hopping onto the ground he squatted down while the turk climbed up on his fat back.

the turk headed the bird to a big tree which grew on the river bank near the island and in a few minutes the airplane settled easily on the topmost branch. the great blue river lay far beneath the turk and with the help of his field glasses he was able to make a good map of the island and the surrounding country.

when he returned to the teenie weenie camp the general immediately called a council of war and the little aviator was asked to explain the map in detail.

“well,” began the turk, “the circle marked camp bitem is the place where we camped and built the raft and the dotted line is the course we took to our present camp. the wild men have a sort of camp or fort, i couldn’t just exactly make out what it was, but anyhow they are gathered in some force on the only cleared ground between their village and our camp.”

map of wild men’s island.

“we couldn’t march through the grass and trees and cut the wild men’s camp off from the village, could we?” asked the old soldier.

“no, sir, i don’t think so,” answered the turk, “for i do not believe anyone could possibly get through the grass and trees.”

“well, that’s too bad,” muttered the general. “i wanted to get those wild men out of that place with as little trouble as possible, but it looks as though we would have to take their fort by storm.”

all the teenie weenie officers gathered in the general’s tent listened solemnly to their commander’s words, for they knew it would be mighty serious if they were forced to charge the wild men’s fort.