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 t............