A Traitor Strikes
“Do not move—not one inch!”
Kamuka repeated that warning as the snake’s long body slid slowly past.
Whether or not the creature was in search of other prey, to move would
be to attract it. Biff realized that from Kamuka’s tone as well as his
words.
Gradually, the sliding coils slackened speed. It was Biff who spoke now,
his own voice strained, but low:
“It’s turning now, Kamuka. It may be coming back.”
“Maybe, but stay still. One move, you are gone.”
Despite himself, Biff raised his head, only slightly, but enough to look
beyond the long, hoselike body that was still gliding by. Aloud, Biff
groaned:
“There is Luiz—coming straight toward us—”
Biff threw up his arms to ward off the great boa’s tail as it lashed
past. Looking up, he saw the snake’s huge mouth yawning toward him. Biff
shut his eyes, thinking there was no hope now. Then a wild scream came
from just ahead.
Biff and Kamuka bobbed up from the grass and saw what had happened. The
anaconda, on the rove for prey, had lashed out for the first moving
thing that approached it—Luiz. Caught in the snake’s coils, the guide
was shouting:
“Urubu! _Ajudo! Ajudo!_”
Urubu took one quick look and relayed the call for help. Serbot and
Pepito came from the tent, saw what was happening, and dashed back for
their guns. Biff didn’t wait to watch what followed. He grabbed Kamuka’s
arm and exclaimed, “Let’s go!”
They went. Behind them, they heard a burst of gunfire. Those first shots
must have wounded the anaconda or frightened it away, for the next
volley whistled through the foliage as Biff and Kamuka dived into the
jungle. The boys found their path and raced along it until the shooting
dwindled far behind them.
Breathless, they slackened their pace to a walk and talked over what had
happened. In a worried tone, Biff said:
“They must have seen us or they wouldn’t have fired after us. I hope
they didn’t know who we were.”
“More likely,” observed Kamuka seriously, “I think they don’t know what
we were.”
“You mean they mistook us for some jungle animals?”
“Why not? We were gone quick—_pouf_! Maybe we were gone quicker than
_sucuria_.”
By “sucuria” Kamuka meant the anaconda. He was referring to the giant
water boa by its more popular Brazilian name. Kamuka’s comment brought a
smile from Biff.
“I wonder if they shot the anaconda,” he speculated, “or whether it
managed to get away.”
“Perhaps Luiz will tell us,” rejoined Kamuka, grinning, “when he gets
back to our camp.”
“If Luiz ever gets back there at all!”
The boys lost no time in getting back to camp themselves. There, they
told Mr. Brewster and Mr. Whitman all that had happened.
“Serbot must have learned a lot from somebody down in Minas Geraes,”
decided Mr. Brewster, “though how, I can’t quite understand. I checked
everyone who had talked with Lew Kirby, and I felt sure he had confided
in me alone.”
“And how did Serbot hear about Joe Nara?” queried Mr. Whitman. “There
have been rumors of head-hunters and abandoned rubber plantations off in
the jungle. But no talk of prospectors and gold mines—at least none that
reached me.”
“There were rumors farther up the river,” Biff’s father said, “according
to what Nara told us. When Joe bought that cruiser and came down to
Manaus, he turned rumor into fact.”
“Nara found out about us,” Hal Whitman pointed out, “so why shouldn’t
Serbot find out about Nara? Or about us, for that matter? We know now
where the leak came. Through Urubu.”
Mr. Brewster weighed that statement, then slowly shook his head.
“Urubu couldn’t have sent word to Serbot that fast,” he declared, then,
turning to Biff, he queried: “You are sure Serbot told Luiz to find out
what he could about Nara?”
“Yes,” replied Biff, “and about the map, too.”
“Then it wasn’t Serbot’s man who stole the map,” mused Mr. Brewster,
“unless he wants that missing corner that I still have. Or else—”
Mr. Brewster interrupted himself, as sounds of excitement came from the
bearers, who were busy thatching palm leaves to form a shelter. Their
babble of dialect included the name “Luiz,” and a couple of the bearers
were running to help the guide as he came limping into camp.
“Say nothing,” warned Mr. Brewster. “Just listen to what Luiz has to
tell us.”
Luiz had plenty to tell when they formed a sympathetic group around him.
“I look for water hole,” Luiz told them, “and I meet _una grande
sucuria_—one big anaconda! He grab me around my body, like this!”
Graphically, Luiz gestured to indicate how the snake’s coils had
encircled his body.
Biff and Kamuka kept straight, solemn faces as Luiz continued.
“I pull my gun quick!” Luiz thrust his hand deep in his trouser pocket
and brought out a small revolver. “I fire quick, until the gun is
empty.” He clicked the trigger repeatedly; then broke open the revolver
and showed its empty chambers. “Still, anaconda hold me, until I draw
knife and stab him hard!”
From a sheath at the back of his belt, Luiz whipped out a knife that
looked far more formidable than his puny gun. He gave fierce stabs at
the imaginary anaconda, his face gleaming with an ugly smile that was
more vicious than triumphant. Luiz looked like a small edition of Urubu,
whose ways he seemed to copy.
“Big snake go off into jungle,” added Luiz, wiggling his hand ahead of
him to indicate the anaconda’s writhing course. “Hurt bad, I think.
Maybe it is dead by now. But the animals were still afraid of it. I hear
them run.”
His sharp eyes darted from Biff to Kamuka, but neither boy changed
expression. Clumsily, Luiz pocketed the revolver with his left hand and
thrust the knife smoothly back into its sheath with his right. He rubbed
his side painfully, then beckoned to two of the natives and said, “We go
look for water hole again.”
A short while later, the boys had a chance to exchange comments while
they were gathering palm fronds for the shelter. After making sure that
no one else was nearby, Kamuka confided:
“Luiz had no gun at start of safari. Urubu must have given gun to him.”
“To explain the shots if any of our party heard them!” exclaimed Biff.
“And did you see the way Luiz looked at us when he mentioned scared
animals? Maybe they glimpsed us going into the brush.”
“Maybe,” agreed Kamuka. “I think they shoot anaconda, or big _sucuria_
would not let Luiz go so easy.”
“That’s another reason why Luiz claimed he shot it,” added Biff. “We
might come across the anaconda and find the bullet marks.”
Shortly afterward, the boys found a chance to repeat those opinions to
Mr. Brewster, who added a few points that they had overlooked.
“Luiz couldn’t possibly have brought the gun from his pocket, as he
claimed,” stated Mr. Brewster, “because the snake was already coiled
about his body. For that matter, he could not have drawn his knife,
either.
“However, from the clumsy way he showed us the gun and put it back in
the wrong pocket, you could tell he had never handled it before. In
contrast, he was smooth and quick with his knife, which is obviously his
customary weapon.”
One question still perplexed Biff.
“That other camp is a good way off, Dad,” Biff said, “yet we heard the
anvil strokes before we started out. How come you didn’t hear the
gunfire later?”
“Urubu may have made the first strokes closer by,” replied Mr. Brewster.
“The anvil sound is also sharper than a gunshot and should carry
farther. That is probably why they chose it as a signal. Kamuka did well
to detect it.”
That evening, Biff was glad there had been time to build the thatched
shelter, for a tropical dew had begun to settle, almost as thick as a
dripping rain. It was less damp beneath the shelter, where Biff and
Kamuka had slung their hammocks.
Mr. Brewster, however, had inflated a rubber mattress and had placed it
near the fire, stating that he would use a poncho to keep off the
moisture. From his hammock, Biff watched his dad arrange small logs and
palm stalks as spare fuel. As he closed his eyes, Biff could hear his
father talking to Luiz, who was standing close by.
“I will watch the fire tonight,” announced Mr. Brewster. “You have been
hurt. You need rest more than I do.”
“But, Senhor,” objected Luiz. “Suppose you fall asleep—”
“I am sure to wake up at intervals. I always do. But you must get some
sleep, Luiz. We need you to guide us to Piedra Del Cucuy. You are sure
you know the way?”
“Most certainly, Senhor. But it may take longer than you expect.”
A pause—then Mr. Brewster asked bluntly, “Why?”
“Because the shortest way is not the best way,” returned Luiz. “We might
meet floods, or streams where the piranha may attack us. They are very
dangerous fish, the piranha—”
“I know,” interrupted Mr. Brewster impatiently, “but we have no time to
waste.”
“You are meeting someone at Piedra Del Cucuy?”
“Yes,” replied Mr. Brewster. “A man named—” He caught himself, then said
in a blunt tone:
“I won’t know our plans until we get there. We will continue on up the
river. That is all that I can tell you.”
“Don’t you have a map, Senhor?”
Biff opened his eyes at Luiz’s question. He saw his father start to
reach into his inside pocket, then bring his hand out empty. Shaking his
head, Mr. Brewster said:
“No, I have no map. Go get some sleep, Luiz. You will need it.”
Biff glimpsed Luiz’s face as the sneaky guide turned from the firelight.
Beneath the hatbrim, Luiz wore that same ugly smile that showed his
satisfaction. Obviously, Luiz was planning his next move, probably for
tomorrow.
When it came, his father would be ready for it, Biff felt sure. Soon
Biff drifted into a fitful sleep from which he awoke at intervals.
Sometimes he heard the crackle of the fire and decided that his father
must have thrown on a log and then gone back to sleep. For, each time,
Biff saw the figure of Mr. Brewster covered by the rubber poncho, near
the pile of logs that had become much smaller during the night. It must
have been the fourth or fifth awakening, when Biff saw someone move into
the firelight’s flicker.
It was Luiz. He crept forward. Crouched above the quiet form, Luiz
thrust his hand downward as if to reach into the sleeper’s pocket.
The figure under the poncho seemed to stir. Luiz recoiled quickly and
sped his hand to his hip. Before Biff could shout a warning, Luiz had
whipped out his long knife into sight and driven it straight down at the
helpless shape beneath him.