<h2 id="c18"><span class="small">CHAPTER XVIII</span> <br/>Urubu Again</h2>
<p>With the first crackle of Nara’s rifle, Mr. Brewster
shouted, “Down everybody—and get ready for them!”
That, Biff knew, could be more than just a shower
of spears. The warriors themselves would be arriving
next, with other weapons. The only hope would be a
few more pole thrusts, but while that might save some
of the party, it wouldn’t help Joe Nara.</p>
<p>It happened though, that Nara had helped himself.
Those crazy shots that peppered the sandbars without
coming near a canoe, unleashed a terrific force that
took the native warriors by complete surprise. As
they poised their spears, the sandbanks sprang into
life before their eyes.</p>
<p>Roused by the blasts of Nara’s guns and the ping of
the bullets in their sandy sunning spot, the anacondas
lashed their way straight downstream in a broad horde
of writhing fury that seemed to stretch like a monstrous
ribbon, two hundred feet in length.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_157">157</div>
<p>The stampede of mighty boa constrictors swept
everything from their path. Their thick bodies and
lashing coils spilled the canoes and plunged the native
warriors into the canal, spears and all.</p>
<p>The snakes didn’t stop their mad rush. They
whacked natives as well as boats when they passed
them and left the canoes drifting in a churn of foam
that made the canal look like a rapids clear beyond
the bend. Then the living tidal wave was gone as
quickly as it had begun. But Mr. Brewster wasn’t waiting
for the natives to reclaim their canoes and spears
so as to return to action.</p>
<p>“Back to the poles!” he ordered. “Heave away—away,
everybody—and you, too, Nara!”</p>
<p>Old Joe, his face gleaming in happy surprise at the
thing he had touched off, now laid aside his rifle and
helped pry the barge from its sandy perch. By the
time the hostile tribesmen were wading up on the
sandbars that the anacondas had left, Nara’s boat was
free. Outboards roared anew as the flotilla plowed its
way to the main channel and on to the junction of
the Casquiare and the Orinoco, where they headed
downstream.</p>
<p>The rhythmic beat of distant tom-toms could still be
heard that evening, when the motors were stopped and
the boats allowed to drift down the river under a
brilliant tropical moon. By morning, the drums had
ceased, indicating that the Maco tribe had either given
up the chase or that the flotilla was beyond the danger
zone.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_158">158</div>
<p>From then on, the expedition traveled mostly by
day and picked suitable campsites overnight. Biff and
Kamuka fished frequently and replenished the food
supply by catching huge river turtles as well as a tasty
species of catfish called <i>cajaro</i>. Biff landed one that
measured well over three feet in length.</p>
<p>Some nights, the boats were lashed side by side and
moored near river settlements where they formed
what Hal Whitman termed a “floating mansion,” complete
to the kitchen. At one village, Joe Nara bought
stacks of huge cassava cakes. These measured two and
a half feet across, but were only a half-inch thick.
They had been brought upriver wrapped in plantain
leaves.</p>
<p>These formed the main food for the Wai Wais accompanying
Nara, and Jacome and Kamuka liked
them too, though Biff found them rather tasteless. In
contrast were some cayman eggs, which the boys dug
up on a sandy shore while hunting turtles with Jacome.
The Indians, Kamuka included, found them tasty
indeed, but they were too strong in flavor to suit Biff.</p>
<p>Caymans were the great menace of the Orinoco,
so the boys were duly warned against them. Closely
resembling alligators, they were supposed to measure
twenty-five feet or more in length. But when Kamuka
called, “There’s a big one!” and Mr. Brewster
promptly drilled it with a rifle shot, the cayman
measured only twelve feet, when it was hauled on
board the kitchen <i>monteria</i>.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_159">159</div>
<p>“When you see a creature in motion,” Mr. Brewster
told the boys, “and particularly a bird, or its cousin, a
reptile, you always gain an exaggerated idea of its
length.”</p>
<p>“Eggs-aggerate?” Kamuka repeated the unfamiliar
term. “You mean eggs look long too?”</p>
<p>“Not eggs-actly,” put in Biff, with a smile, “but
if we’d looked much longer at those cayman eggs, they
would have hatched.”</p>
<p>Mr. Brewster smiled at the jokes, then became serious.</p>
<p>“You must learn what it means to gauge speed in
terms of distance,” he declared. “When we reach the
rapids where the Ventuari flows into the Orinoco, you
boys can take the boat down through.”</p>
<p>When they reached the rapids, Mr. Brewster gave
the helm to Biff, then told Kamuka to mind the bow
and watch for rocks. Mr. Brewster went into the
thatched cabin, but from there, he kept a sharp lookout
in case the boys ran into trouble.</p>
<p>Biff realized that his dad was standing by in case of
emergency, but unless something of the sort developed,
Biff knew he would be on his own. What a
thrill it was!</p>
<p>Kamuka watched like a cat, to copy any move made
by Jacome and the stolid natives who were warding
off rocks from the bows of the other boats. Biff kept
an eager eye on Whitman, Joe Nara, and the Wai Wai
who was piloting the kitchen barge. When Biff saw
that they were watching the man in the bow, he did
the same.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_160">160</div>
<p>Time and again, Kamuka would raise his paddle to
jab at a threatening rock. Always, Biff handled the
helm accordingly. Kamuka nodded his head admiringly.
He was crediting Biff with being a wonderful
pilot, never realizing that he was furnishing the tip-off
that enabled his friend to demonstrate such skill.</p>
<p>Twice, though, it was Kamuka’s quick work with
the paddle that staved off a crash on the rocks before
Biff could bring the helm about. When at last they
were drifting in the calm water below the rapids,
Biff sprang forward over the thatched cabin and
grabbed Kamuka’s hand, exclaiming:</p>
<p>“Great work, Kamuka! We make a perfect team!”</p>
<p>Kamuka smiled solemnly as he repeated:</p>
<p>“We make—perfect team.”</p>
<p>Mr. Brewster came from the cabin and clapped a
hand on each boy’s shoulder.</p>
<p>“You do make a perfect team,” he complimented.
“Just remember it.”</p>
<p>They remembered it, several nights later, when they
sat around the campfire after a <i>cajaro</i> dinner.</p>
<p>“Tomorrow,” stated Mr. Brewster, “we come to the
Maipures Rapids.”</p>
<p>“Can we take the boat down through them?” queried
Biff. “I mean, Kamuka and I?”</p>
<p>“None of our boats will shoot the Maipures,” said
Mr. Brewster. “They are impassable. So are the rapids
of the Atures, forty miles below. A road has been built
around both rapids, so that trucks can transport us
with our boats.”</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_161">161</div>
<p>Joe Nara gave a high-pitched snort.</p>
<p>“That’s where Serbot will be waiting for us,” he
declared. “That’s for sure.”</p>
<p>“I’m not so sure,” put in Hal Whitman. “After he
sold us out to those Indians on the Casquiare, he probably
headed back the other way, down the Rio
Negro.”</p>
<p>“Not if he figured we’d be coming down the
Orinoco.”</p>
<p>Whitman and Nara both turned to Mr. Brewster,
to see if he could settle the argument. As he lighted his
pipe, Mr. Brewster stated calmly:</p>
<p>“It’s about an even chance that Serbot came this
way. If he did, he will probably be watching the road
to see if we come through.”</p>
<p>“That’s right,” declared Nara. “We’d better keep
a sharp lookout when we reach that portage.”</p>
<p>“Serbot may be watching for us,” agreed Mr.
Brewster, “but he won’t be able to make trouble for
us there.”</p>
<p>“After what he’s already done,” argued Nara, “he
might give us trouble anywhere.”</p>
<p>When they reached Sanariapo, the tiny village at
the head of the upper rapids, Biff and Kamuka noticed
some natives watching Igo and Ubi carry sacks of ore
up over the sloping rock between the river and the
highway, where transport trucks were waiting to load
the boats as well as the cargo.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_162">162</div>
<p>The boys reported this to Biff’s father, who talked
with the truck drivers and learned that the hangers-on
were simply hoping to pick up a few <i>bolivars</i> in Venezuelan
money by helping load the trucks. But that
didn’t satisfy Joe Nara.</p>
<p>“If they can’t make a <i>bolivar</i> one way,” he argued,
“they may try another. Like telling people about our
gold ore.”</p>
<p>“Here at Sanariapo,” stated Mr. Brewster, “there
is no one for them to tell.”</p>
<p>“They might pass the word along to Puerto Ayacucho,
below the lower rapids,” returned Nara. “I’ll go
ahead on the first truck with Igo and Ubi, so I can
check on any rumors.”</p>
<p>It took most of the day to make trucking arrangements,
and to transport boats as well as cargo over the
modern highway that spans the intervening streams
on big steel bridges. Biff found the trip interesting,
with stretches of open country and barren hills as well
as wooded slopes and forested areas.</p>
<p>The highway followed the right bank of the Orinoco,
which belongs to Venezuela, while the land on
the other side of the river is part of the Republic of
Colombia. At Puerto Ayacucho, they found Igo and
Ubi waiting to load the ore sacks into Nara’s <i>monteria</i>,
when it arrived. But there was no sign of Nara.</p>
<p>According to Igo and Ubi, Nara had gone somewhere
immediately after arriving in Puerto Ayacucho.
But Mr. Brewster, inquiring at stores, hotels, and
elsewhere, was unable to find anyone who had even
seen the old white-haired prospector.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_163">163</div>
<p>“The only place left,” Mr. Brewster declared,
chuckling, “is the governor’s office. Maybe Joe Nara
is having lunch with His Excellency. Should we try
there?”</p>
<p>“I don’t think so,” returned Hal Whitman dryly.
“From the way Nara looks for trouble, we might do
better if we asked at the local calaboose.”</p>
<p>Mr. Brewster smiled at that reference to the town
jail.</p>
<p>“I’ve already asked there,” he said. Then, turning
to the boys, he added, “Look around for Nara, and if
you don’t have any luck, I guess we’ll have to call on
the governor’s office to help us find him.”</p>
<p>Kamuka noticed some natives lounging near an old
shack on the high bank of the river.</p>
<p>“Maybe they have seen Senhor Nara,” Kamuka said
to Biff. “But you will have to ask them. They do not
speak Portuguese as I do. They talk Spanish, which
you understand.”</p>
<p>When they approached the group, Biff addressed
the nearest native, who was huddled by the wall, his
chin buried deep in his red bandanna neckerchief and
his gaze turned toward the river.</p>
<p>“<i>Oiga, amigo</i>,” began Biff. “<i>Soy buscando un viejo
son pelo bianco</i>—”</p>
<p>Biff was saying that he was looking for an old man
with white hair, but he got no further. The slouchy
native came to his feet and spun about with a snarl.</p>
<p>As Biff dropped back, he found himself staring into
the vicious, hawkish face of Urubu!</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_164">164</div>
<div style="break-after:column;"></div><br />