  “Look out, Biff! He may have a knife!” The warning came from Kamuka as the Indian boy grabbed Biff’s arm, hauling him away from Urubu. But there was no way for them to dodge, except toward the wall, as Urubu was between them and the corner of the building. Then, from around that very corner came a limber figure, a thin man clad in dungarees and a big sombrero, whose tight fists moved like pistons as they jabbed at Urubu’s face. Jolted backward, Urubu dropped the knife that he was pulling from beneath his shirt. Warding off a few blows, he turned and ran wildly for a landing below the riverbank. The boys turned to thank their rescuer, who had lost his big sombrero and was stooping to pick up the wide-brimmed hat. They were amazed when they saw his smiling face and white hair. The man who had routed Urubu was Joe Nara. “The way to spot snoopers,” advised Nara, “is to go snooping for them. Nobody would know old Joe Nara in this outfit, particularly with his white hair out of sight.” Nara chuckled as he put on the sombrero, showing how quick and complete the change was. Then Nara pointed to the river where a small, squat motorboat was scudding downstream. “There goes Urubu,” said Nara, “with another rat who was waiting for him, probably Pepito. They’re going to tell their boss Serbot that the gold rush is coming his way.” The boys couldn’t see the boat closely, because they faced the glare of the late afternoon sun. When they told Mr. Brewster what had happened, he agreed with Nara. “We’ll keep going downstream, though,” Mr. Brewster decided, “until we reach the rapids above Puerto Carreno, the only town on the Colombian side of the river.” “Can we go through those rapids?” asked Biff. “Yes, they are quite navigable,” his father replied, “but that is where Serbot and his crew will be waiting to attack us. If we get by the rapids, we’ll be all right, because Mr. Stannart should be at Puerto Carreno in his yacht, by this time.” “Can he come that far up the Orinoco, Dad?” “Yes, he can make it,” replied Mr. Brewster. “And in his letter he said he would, unless we met him farther downriver. Since we have taken longer than the time he allotted us, we should find him there. Then we’ll close the mining deal with you, Joe.” “If we get there,” put in Nara glumly. “We can’t go around those rapids unless we take a back trail, and Serbot will be watching that, too.” As the loaded flotilla continued down the river, Mr. Brewster continued to weigh the coming problem. He was hoping that a solution might crop up, and as the expedition approached the rapids, the answer came. Back from the river on the Venezuelan side stood an old, abandoned blockhouse flanked by a few dilapidated mud huts. “We’ll make camp there,” Mr. Brewster decided. “We can bring enough supplies into the blockhouse to hold Serbot off if he tries to attack us.” “Do you think he has spies watching for us now?” asked Biff. “Very probably,” his father rejoined. “And when he learns that we aren’t coming down the river, he will have to come up here to find us.” Mr. Brewster signaled the other boats to shore, and when they landed, he explained full details of his plan. “Tomorrow, Nara,” stated Mr. Brewster, “I want you to move your Wai Wai Indians down by a back trail to the rapids. They should be able to creep up on Serbot’s crew without his knowing it.” Nara nodded agreement. “As soon as Serbot becomes impatient and starts up here,” Mr. Brewster went on, “the Wai Wais can spring a surprise attack on any men that he leaves there. Then, before Serbot has time to attack us here, we’ll come down the river in the boats. We’ll pick your men up at the rapids, where they will have cleared the way for us.” “But what about my monteria?” asked Nara, tilting his head in canny style. “It has all the gold ore. Remember?” “We’ll bring it with the other boats,” promised Mr. Brewster. “It means more to me than to you, Nara, because you have lots more back at El Dorado. But these are the samples that I need to show Mr. Stannart and close the deal for Ajax.” “But suppose Serbot does attack here?” “We’ll drive him off from the blockhouse. When he sees that we are well fortified, he is sure to withdraw until he can bring up more men. Your Wai Wais will have taken care of them. That’s when we’ll surprise him by dashing out to the boats and starting down the river.” They spent the rest of the day bringing the supplies in from the boats and putting the blockhouse into shape. The small windows of the square, squatty building were equipped with screens, but most of them were in poor condition. Mr. Brewster insisted upon repairing them first. “Let’s get fortified against mosquitoes and other insects for tonight,” he suggested. “During the evening, we can strengthen the shutters and fix loopholes so as to fight off Serbot and his pests tomorrow or whenever they come this way.” While the others worked late into the evening, Joe Nara strode about wearing a gun belt with two revolvers poking from its holsters, ready for trouble. Later Nara and his Wai Wais slept under netting on their monterias, so as to get a good rest. In the blockhouse, the other members of the party took turns at guard duty through the night. At dawn, Jacome awakened Biff, who was scheduled to take over at that time. From one of the screened windows, Biff saw the squatty figures of Igo and Ubi emerge from Nara’s monteria. They roused the other Indians, and soon were stealthily moving off among the trees, to seek a trail to the rapids. The next few hours were the longest that Biff had ever experienced. The others woke up, had breakfast, and strolled about the camp. But the very air seemed charged with expectancy. It would probably be mid-afternoon, perhaps even later in the day, before a move came from the other camp—if a move came at all. Mr. Brewster, Hal Whitman, and Jacome were all carrying their rifles, fully loaded, but that was purely a matter of precaution. “Nara’s party can’t have reached the rapids yet,” Mr. Brewster told Biff and Kamuka. “Even so, they won’t make a move unless Serbot starts out with his main force. If he sends some men ahead, they may try some sniping so, naturally, we must be ready. But that will show their hand—” A sudden interruption came from the surrounding trees, the blasts of a dozen guns or more. Mr. Brewster wheeled and fired back from the spot where he was standing, midway between the blockhouse and the boats. Mr. Whitman and Jacome were nearer the blockhouse. They turned and fired, too. A bigger volley answered from a wider angle, accompanied by the whine of bullets that were high, but close. Whitman was shouting from near the blockhouse: “This way! Quick, or you’ll be cut off! Serbot is here with his whole outfit!” Amid new gunbursts, Mr. Brewster made a rapid decision. He pointed the boys to the shore and told them: “Quick! Get to Nara’s monteria. Start it down the river, and don’t stop until you reach Stannart’s yacht!” The boys were on their way, and Mr. Brewster was dashing back to the blockhouse, to join Whitman and Jacome. He made it safely, although he drew the fire of Serbot’s followers, who were now visible as they came clambering, shouting, from the surrounding brush. But Biff and Kamuka were now beyond the range of immediate gunfire when they boarded the monteria. Then they had the big motor started, and the heavily loaded boat was plowing its way out to the middle of the Orinoco. When Biff looked back, he saw tiny figures on the shore, but the boat was now half a mile away, too far for bullets to reach it. “Serbot staged a surprise attack of his own,” Biff told Kamuka, who was with him in the stem. “And Dad had promised Nara that he would get this monteria down the river. So here we are!” “Soon we reach rapids,” was Kamuka’s comment. “I better get ready so we can work like team.” The space under the thatched cabin was stacked with packs as well as sacks of ore, so Kamuka didn’t try to crawl through it to reach the bow of the boat. Instead, he scrambled over the low roof, picked up a paddle from the forward cockpit, and waved back to Biff as he took his position. Soon the white foam of the rapids showed ahead. Biff steered for what looked like the main channel, and the monteria was swept into a series of whirlpools that licked the sides of jutting black rocks. The contrast in color helped Kamuka ward off those obstacles, while Biff did some fancy piloting to keep to the channel. Then, as Biff veered from a new hazard in the shape of a sandbank, he saw what he had feared most. Human figures rose from the tall grass beyond the sandy shoal and aimed rifles directly at the swift-moving boat and the boys who manned it. They were Serbot’s reserves, Biff realized, stationed here to block the flotilla if it came down the rapids, and Biff was sure he saw the gleaming face of Urubu in the midst of the group. Urubu was finding it an easy task with only a single monteria coming his way. He waved his hand as a signal to fire. As the rifles barked, Biff gunned the motor, adding enough speed to carry the boat from the path of fire. But Urubu’s crew was aiming again, this time at point-blank range. Fortunately their fire never came. The tall grass stirred behind them, and from it sprang Igo, Ubi, and the rest of Nara’s Indians. The Wai Wais had been stalking Urubu’s riflemen to the edge of the sandbank. The first blast of gunfire had given away the position of Urubu’s men. Now, the Wai Wais were engulfing them like a human tidal wave, while Biff and Kamuka resumed their battle with the rapids, keeping the big, clumsy boat clear of the rocks and sand. Finally, the water subsided, and they were chugging peacefully down the river past the little settlement of Puerto Carreno and a great jutting point of sand where the Meta River flowed in from the left to join the Orinoco. Kamuka waved his paddle and pointed ahead. Moored well away from the channel was a sleek white craft that could only be Mr. Stannart’s yacht, the Coronet. Though small, it had a trim build that marked it seaworthy, capable of braving the Caribbean, yet also suited to river travel. Smiling men in trim uniforms appeared on deck as Biff maneuvered the monteria alongside the yacht. The boys made their boat fast and clambered up a rope ladder to find Mr. Stannart coming from his cabin to greet them. Biff introduced Kamuka, then started to pour out his story in one breath: “Dad’s upriver in a lot of trouble. Old Joe Nara is somewhere along the rapids. But we’ve brought the gold ore from the mine, down there in the boat—” Mr. Stannart smilingly interrupted with a wave toward the cabin as he suggested: “Step in there and tell me all about it. I have a friend who would like to hear it too. You will agree when you meet him—” The boys entered the compact cabin, then stopped short in amazement. Mr. Stannart’s friend was smiling, too, but in a way that was anything but pleasant. For both Biff and Kamuka had seen that fixed smile before. The man who awaited them in the cabin was Nicholas Serbot! |
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