<h2 id="c6"><span class="small">CHAPTER VI</span> <br/>Into the Quicksand</h2>
<p>Biff flung his arms upward, as he tried to duck
away. It was a hopeless effort, for nothing could have
saved him from those fierce claws, once the jaguar
reached him. What stopped the springing jungle cat
was another figure, small but chunky, that came flying
out of the darkness, feet first.</p>
<p>It was Kamuka. The Indian boy had grabbed a
long liana vine hanging like a rope from a tree beside
his high hammock. All in one motion, he had
swung himself across the jaguar’s path just in time to
ram the creature’s shoulder in mid-air and veer the
big cat toward the fire.</p>
<p>That gave Biff time enough to roll the other way,
and Kamuka, as he struck the ground, promptly
squirmed about to dive off into the darkness. The
scene was momentarily illuminated by a shower of
sparks raised by the jaguar when it struck the fringe
of the embers. With more of a yowl than a snarl, the
big cat cleared the fire at a single bound and took off
into the jungle.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_51">51</div>
<p>Mr. Brewster had his gun by then, but with so
many figures bouncing in the vague firelight, he
couldn’t risk a shot. By the time Biff and Kamuka
were out of the way, Jacome had come on the scene,
swinging a big club. Mr. Brewster had to wait until he
was out of the path of aim, before firing into the jungle.</p>
<p>By then, Mr. Brewster might as well have fired
blank shots. The jaguar had vanished completely in
darkness. Jacome threw some logs on the fire, and as
the flames took hold, he commented:</p>
<p>“The tapir tiger—that is what we call the jaguar.
A good name for him. Look there and you see why!”</p>
<p>Jacome indicated a chunk of cooked tapir meat,
hanging from a tree branch near the fire. The smell
of its favorite food had evidently drawn the “tapir
tiger” in from the jungle. But that did not fully satisfy
Mr. Brewster.</p>
<p>“Jaguars frequently kill and eat tapirs,” Biff’s father
declared, “but they also shy away from campfires. I
gave orders that this fire should be tended all night.
Who neglected his duty?”</p>
<p>The final words were addressed to Luiz, who had
just joined the group. The guide shrugged and gestured
to some of the native bearers who were coming
sleepily from their hammocks. They stared dumbly
at Luiz, until Mr. Brewster queried them sharply in
their dialect, getting headshakes from all.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_52">52</div>
<p>“I will give the orders direct from now on,” Mr.
Brewster told Luiz bluntly, “and I intend to see that
they are carried out.” He looked up, noted the faint
glimmer of daybreak through the high leaves, and
added, “It is after dawn. Let’s break camp and start
on our way.”</p>
<p>Biff expressed his thanks to Kamuka while the Indian
boy was helping him prepare his pack.</p>
<p>“If you hadn’t hopped to help me the way you
did,” asserted Biff, “I would be just a chunk of tapir
meat, or something a lot like it. I’ll remember what
you did for me, Kamuka.”</p>
<p>“That is good,” rejoined Kamuka solemnly. “I help
you. You help me. That is the way in the jungle.”</p>
<p>Biff felt that he was getting the knack of jungle
ways during that day’s trek, but he was due for new
surprises. As they hacked a path through a thick
growth of brush, he heard a sound that was sharply
distinct from the screeches of the vivid parrots and
macaws that continually scolded from the trees.</p>
<p>It was exactly like a hammer striking an anvil or
some other chunk of solid metal. It came from well
back in the jungle, and after it was repeated, Biff said
to Kamuka:</p>
<p>“Hear that! There must be a village back there in
the jungle!”</p>
<p>Kamuka laughed as the clanging sound came again.</p>
<p>“<i>El campanero</i>,” he defined. “That is what some
people call it. Others call it the bellbird.”</p>
<p>“You mean it’s only a bird?”</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_53">53</div>
<p>As if in answer, the sharp note was repeated with
methodical precision, and Biff recognized that it had a
quality that could be mistaken for a bell rather than
the clank of hammer on anvil. Biff kept looking for
the bird itself until Kamuka noticed it and told him:</p>
<p>“Bellbird very hard to find. He may be far away
when you think he is close by.”</p>
<p>Other creatures were closer at hand. From up
ahead, Jacome turned and pointed to the path. He
called something in his native tongue, and Biff
watched the bearers take quick sidesteps. Then Kamuka
was nudging Biff with his elbow and pointing
out the reason.</p>
<p>A procession of ants was moving along the trail as
though keeping pace with the safari. The insects were
carrying thin green slivers that wobbled above their
bodies. Biff saw that those were tiny fragments of
leaves that the ants had gathered and evidently were
going to store for food.</p>
<p>“Umbrella ants,” defined Kamuka. “Be careful or
they crawl up your leg instead of along path. Umbrella
ants can bite—hard!”</p>
<p>From the way the ants had chopped the leaves
they carried, Biff took Kamuka at his word. He
played hopscotch with the insects until they veered
off the trail. The going became easy again, except that
the atmosphere of the jungle was growing more humid.
Even the chatter of the birds and monkeys was
silenced in the sultry calm.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_54">54</div>
<p>Then came a sudden rain as torrential as the big
downpour that they had encountered on the Rio Negro.
With the jungle steam rising about them, it was a
case of groping along the trail, which soon became
ankle deep with water. As he sloshed through the
muck, Biff told Kamuka:</p>
<p>“Those ants are smarter than we are. They must
have known this was coming and carried their own
umbrellas.”</p>
<p>Kamuka interpreted that to Jacome, who laughed
and passed it along to the bearers. The rain stopped
suddenly at last, but although the heat returned again,
the path remained soggy underfoot. Luiz, it seemed,
had lost the trail during the rain and was marching
the safari into a jungle swamp.</p>
<p>Mr. Brewster called a halt. It was not just a matter
of getting back on the trail; he wanted the best trail.
For the first time, Biff heard his father mention
“Piedra Del Cucuy” to Luiz, who nodded that he understood.</p>
<p>“We go to Piedra Del Cucuy,” assured Luiz. “That
is easy, now I know. I show you the best way.”</p>
<p>Biff’s clothes were dry by now except for his shoes
and socks, which felt as if they were filled with lead
weights as the march was resumed. Luiz soon took
the safari out of the swampy land to a dry path, but
at times, he showed hesitancy at places where the
trail divided. Always, he came finally to a definite decision,
but Jacome began to eye him suspiciously.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_55">55</div>
<p>“We all hear Senhor Brewster say we go to Piedra
Del Cucuy,” Jacome confided to Biff and Kamuka.
“Now we know we go there, Luiz is afraid to take us
on wrong trail. Some of us go to Piedra Del Cucuy before
this. We may remember way if Luiz ‘forget’ it.”</p>
<p>A little later, Biff fell in stride alongside his dad
and told him what Jacome had said.</p>
<p>“I think there’s no question but that Luiz is trying
to delay us,” declared Mr. Brewster. “The only puzzle
is his purpose. He may simply be hoping to make
more money by keeping us longer on the hike. Or
he may have deliberately stalled us in order to learn
our exact destination. That is why I told him. Now, I
am forcing him to show his hand.”</p>
<p>Mr. Brewster’s tactics paid off by mid-afternoon.
The ringing cry of the bellbird had begun again in
the deep jungle, and Biff was still hoping for a sight
of the elusive <i>campanero</i>, when Luiz led the safari on
a short side trail that terminated in a clearing. There
Luiz announced, “We camp here tonight.”</p>
<p>“We could still go on a few miles farther,” objected
Mr. Brewster. “In fact, we might stop almost anywhere
on the trail.”</p>
<p>“Plenty of water here,” argued Luiz. “Maybe not
in other places.”</p>
<p>Jacome overheard that. The big man supplied a
grim but knowing grin as he muttered his own opinion
to the boys.</p>
<p>“Maybe and maybe not,” said Jacome. “In wet
season, we find water everywhere; in dry season, no.
But we came through big rain today, like wet season.”</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_56">56</div>
<p>After brief deliberation, Mr. Brewster gave Luiz
the nod.</p>
<p>“We need water,” he agreed, “and perhaps we are
too tired to go on much farther today. We will make
camp here.”</p>
<p>Hardly had they unloaded their packs before
Kamuka suggested to Biff, “Come with me. Maybe
we find bellbird.”</p>
<p>They started along a twisty jungle path in the general
direction of the distant metallic sound. Kamuka
was moving so hurriedly that they were out of sight
of camp before Biff caught up with him and reminded
him, “They may want to send us for water,
back at camp—”</p>
<p>“That can wait,” put in Kamuka. “We find bird
first.”</p>
<p>“But you told me before that there was no use
looking for the bellbird, that the sound might be far
away.”</p>
<p>“I know. But this is not real bellbird. Listen.”</p>
<p>Biff listened. The sharp note came clear again,
from exactly the same direction. Biff could detect no
difference between it and the anvil chorus of earlier
in the day. But Kamuka could.</p>
<p>“Somebody is hitting metal with hammer,” the Indian
boy insisted. “We look for them. We find them—if
we hurry.”</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_57">57</div>
<p>Kamuka waved his arm for Biff to follow, as he
started a quick jog along the jungle path, hoping to
reach the source of the well-faked bird call before the
sounds ceased. Straight ahead, low tree branches
formed a thick green arch, darkening the path between
two low banks that were vivid with colorful
flowers.</p>
<p>Mostly, they were magnificent orchids that thrived
on dampness as well as heat, but Biff was unaware of
that. Kamuka, though schooled in jungle knowledge,
ignored the flowers in his haste. He had turned his
head to see if Biff had responded to his call, when
suddenly, the green carpeting of the path gave way
beneath his weight.</p>
<p>A moment later, Kamuka was waist deep in slimy
ooze, squirming, twisting about to grab at bushes on
the solid ground that he had left. The tufts of grass
that he clutched simply pulled loose from the soft
earth. With each quickly repeated snatch, he had still
less chance of gaining a hold, for he was sinking to his
armpits as he panted:</p>
<p>“Look out, Biff! Don’t come close! Quicksand!”</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_58">58</div>
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