Part 11 (1/2)

nels that were narrow or shallow, they poled the boats through.

They were deep in the jungle when the river opened into a fair-sized lake, where Nara pulled his boat alongside of Mr. Brewster's, to check the map again.

”This is one of the lagoons that connects with the Casiquiare Ca.n.a.l,” explained Nara. ”Actually, the Casiquiare is an overflow from the Orinoco that reaches the headwaters of the Rio Negro, forming a link with the Amazon. But sometimes the ca.n.a.l backs up and flows the wrong way. The important thing is that it is always navigable, clear to the Orinoco.”

The job now was to work from one lagoon to another, through channels that would have been shown on the missing portion of Kirby's map. Nara knew the route from memory, and fortunately he had been over it several times. But he still had trouble picking his way through a lot of lesser channels, and at rimes he called upon Mr. Brewster to check the course by compa.s.s.

”Taking a boat through a jungle,” declared Nara, ”is just like going for a hike in the woods. First thing you know, you're traveling in a circle. Only you don't ever really know it, because wherever you are, it always looks the same.”

The more Biff thought that over, the more true it seemed. But when he discussed it with Kamuka, the Indian boy disputed the notion.

”One place is not like another,” declared Kamuka.

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”I look there, and I see so many trees. I remember them like picture. You show me another place, the picture is different.”

”In that case,” said Biff, ”I suppose you can never get lost in the jungle.”

”I get lost easy,” returned Kamuka. ”Too easy. Any place I do not know, I am lost-maybe. But I never get lost in the same place where I was before.”

Biff decided to test that out in a simple but effective way. As they chugged along, he made notes of certain spots and told Kamuka to remember them on his own. When they reached a similar place, Biff asked Kamuka to tell him the difference. Always, Kamuka came up with some slight variation that tallied with Biff's list.

When they swung into a small cove past a jutting point with an odd overhanging tree, Biff was sure that they had seen the place before. This time, Kamuka couldn't come up with enough differences in the scenery. Triumphantly, Biff was saying: ”You see, Kamuka? This could be the same place where we were an hour ago, or enough like it so you can't tell the difference-”

”Except,” said Kamuka, ”that there was no smoke in trees, no campfire with people around, no boats coming out from sh.o.r.e-”

Biff looked up in surprise. He saw more boats, a whole batch of them, shooting out from opposite points to block off any retreat.

More than a dozen in number, those boats were filled with natives who shouted savage war cries as 144 .

they closed in on Nara's flotilla, forcing the heavier boats toward the sh.o.r.e. There was no avoiding the camp where warlike natives waited, armed with spears, for now other canoes were darting out from hiding places to complete the rapid roundup.

Rather than be boarded by the natives, Mr. Brewster ordered the boats to the sh.o.r.e. There, he and Whitman sprang out with loaded rifles. Biff and Kamuka followed, bringing their machetes. Jacome joined them, armed in the same fas.h.i.+on. Immediately, they were surrounded by a dozen silent natives, who stood ready with poised spears.

”Be careful,” warned Jacome. ”Do not make move. Big pot on fire is used to cook curare. Spear point poison-maybe.”

Between the circling natives, Biff saw the fire and the pot that Jacome mentioned. It was a big, crude kettle, steaming over the log flames.

”I'm glad they're just cooking cterare” Biff whispered to Kamuka. ”I thought maybe they were boiling some special stuff to shrink our heads.”

”Maybe they do just that,” returned Kamuka solemnly. ”I do not like this. Not one bit, Biff.”

A tall chief with a drooping feathered headdress and a plumed belt had taken charge, and was ordering Nara and the Wai Wais from their boats. Nara's Indians brought their machetes, but old Joe came entirely unarmed. He jabbered dialect at the feathered chief. Then, finding that he didn't understand, Nara let Igo and Ubi take over as interpreters.

After a brief talk, Nara turned to Mr. Brewster.

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”They are Maco Indians,” stated Nara. ”They were told that we intend to attack their village.”

”Macus,” Biff's father groaned. ”I knew they would catch up with us.”

”Not Macus,” corrected Nara. ”Macos, who live on the upper Orinoco. But they can be just as dangerous, now that they're sure we are their enemies.”

”Where did they get that idea?” asked Mr. Brewster.

”From three men who stopped at their village near the Casiquiare,” explained Nara, ”and told them that we would come sneaking through the backwaters to the spot where we are now.”

”Serbot, Pepito, and Urubu,” Mr. Brewster decided grimly. ”It must have been Pepito who stole the map in Manaus. They were unable to locate the mine on their portion of it, but they cut across our route and stirred up this tribe against us.”

”What do we do now?” put in Whitman. ”Give them presents and send them away happy?”

”They won't be happy unless they take us, too, declared Nara. ”They want us to accompany them to their village, so that their king can hear our story. He will decide whether we are guilty or innocent.”

”That means he will either find us guilty,” observed Mr. Brewster, ”or he'll put us through some ordeal where we will come out more dead than alive. Should we make a stand for it here?”

”Not a chance,” returned Nara. ”Those spear tips are already poisoned. That's why they're boiling water, to cook up a new brew after they've used 146 .

their spears. One false move now, and we're goners.”

From the bristling appearance of the spears and the glares of the two dozen spearmen who now surrounded the party, it looked as though Nara was right. Impatient mutters were coming from the tribesmen while the feathered chief awaited a reply.

”We can't fight them,” declared Mr. Brewster, ”and we can't go with them. What choice does that leave us?”

”Only one,” replied Nara calmly. ”We must convince them that we have a right to be here, more right, in fact, than they have.” He turned to Ubi and Igo and announced importantly: ”Tell them who I am.”

Igo and Ubi babbled in dialect with the t.i.tle ”El Dorado” sprinkled through it, bringing echoing exclamations of ”El Dorado” from the Maco tribesmen. At the finish, Igo spoke simply to Nara: ”They say they like to see you show them.”

”I'll show them!” Nara made a spreading gesture with his arms. ”Tell them to clear the way to that big pot up there by the fire, and I'll show them I'm El Dorado!”

As Igo translated the statement, the Maco chief ordered his followers to clear a path, which they did. Old Joe Nara strode forward, nodding his head as though his triumph was already a.s.sured.

”I hope,” said Kamuka, ”that Senhor Nara can do something to help, like real El Dorado would.”

”Whatever he does,” added Biff fervently, ”it will have to be good, if it's going to help at all!”

CHAPTER XVII.

The Man of Gold WHEN Joe Nara reached the big campfire, he extended his hands above the simmering kettle and swept them back and forth in slow, impressive fas.h.i.+on. His back was toward the half-circle of tribesmen, but now, he changed position.

First to the right, then to the left of the fire, Nara repeated his odd ritual. Finally, he stepped beyond the fire and turned to face the group through the rising steam which wavered and curled about his arms as he repeated his ceremony.

Two savage spearmen had stepped up to flank him with poised weapons, but Nara paid them no attention. Biff looked slowly around and saw that he and his father were under similar guard. So were Kamuka and Hal Whitman, as well as Jacome and the other natives. Whatever Nara might do, there would be no chance to make a run for the boats.

Now Nara was drawing his s.h.i.+rt sleeves clear up past his elbows. He looked like a wizened wizard as he 148 .