Country Of The Falcon. Anne Mather

breathed a sigh of relief. ‘Then you know he is at Paradiablo, too.’

      ‘Professor Tempest has been working at Paradiablo for several months, yes.’

      Alexandra’s warm mouth curved into a smile. ‘Thank heavens for that! Oh—does he know I’m here, too?’

      ‘No.’ Declan O’Rourke sounded quite definite about that. He bent and completed his transference of her belongings to the other boat. Then he straightened. ‘I presume you are prepared to come with me now?’

      Alexandra hesitated. ‘But I thought—oughtn’t we to stay here overnight? Vasco said something about—rapids?’

      Declan O’Rourke cast a wry glance in Vasco’s direction. ‘Did he? Yes—well, there are rapids further upstream, but we will not be negotiating them this evening.’

      Alexandra frowned. ‘I don’t understand.’

      ‘You will.’ Declan O’Rourke indicated his boat. ‘Do you need any assistance to climb across?’

      Alexandra shook her head and then looked uncomfortably towards Vasco. How did he feel about losing his passenger?

      ‘Er—how much—how much do I owe you?’ she began.

      ‘I’ll attend to that.’

      Declan O’Rourke spoke before Vasco’s greedy little mouth could voice a figure, and Alexandra had no choice but to leave him to it. She scrambled over into the adjoining boat, flinching away from the Indian hands which reached to help her, and standing rather uneasily in the well of the vessel watching the two men complete their business. She was still not entirely convinced that she was doing the right thing. There were still a lot of questions left unanswered. But she had made her decision and she had no choice but to stick to it.

      A few moments later, Declan O’Rourke vaulted back into his own boat again and with a raised hand to Vasco he nodded to his Indian pilot and they began to move away. In no time at all the darkness had sucked them into its waiting void and Alexandra hugged herself closely, huddled on the plank seat, wondering what on earth her father was going to say when she saw him. She had the uneasy conviction that he was not going to be at all pleased.

      Declan O’Rourke did not speak to her as the small vessel moved steadily upstream and apart from an occasional word between him and the Indian pilot the only sounds were the slapping movements of the water against the bows of the boat.

      They travelled for perhaps half an hour and then Alexandra realised they were pulling across to the bank. Her nerves tightened. What now? Was this where they were going to abandon her—to be eaten alive by alligators or crushed to death by the giant anaconda of her nightmares?

      The boat crunched against the spongy roots of dead undergrowth, and Declan O’Rourke sprang across on to marshy ground and secured a rope. Then he came back to where Alexandra was sitting and said:

      ‘Have you got boots?’ in a curt, uncompromising tone.

      Alexandra blinked. ‘Boots? Oh—yes, of course.’

      ‘Put them on then. We’re going ashore.’

      ‘Ashore?’ Alexandra looked in horror at the menacing belt of tropical forest. ‘But——’

      ‘Don’t argue right now. Just do as I say.’

      Declan turned away with the air of one accustomed to command and what was more, accustomed to being obeyed. Alexandra found herself fumbling for her boots and pushing her feet into them. When they were fastened she stood up and Declan came back to her shouldering a load of blankets and carrying a powerful torch.

      ‘Come along,’ he said, indicating that she should follow him and with a reluctant look at her belongings strewn in the bottom of the boat she obeyed.

      The two Indians who were accompanying him were apparently remaining in the boat and Alexandra forced herself into a fatalistic frame of mind. Whatever happened now, she was powerless to prevent it.

      Declan leapt on to the marshy river-bank and lent a hand as she jumped across the lapping shallows to land beside him. Her boots sank into the soggy ground and squelched as Declan switched on the torch and went ahead, urging her to follow him.

      There was a path worn through the jungle at this point and it was surprisingly easy walking. Of course, all around them were the poisonous liana creepers that fought their way upward in a strangling spiral round the trunks of trees, and there might be any number of minor monsters underfoot, but Alexandra refused to think of them. The uncanny silence created an illusion of complete isolation, and the thought crossed her mind that these forests had existed here longer than man had peopled the earth. It was a shattering realisation.

      An unearthly roar that echoed and re-echoed around them caused Alexandra to gasp and stumble, but she managed to right herself with resorting to clutching at her escort. All the same, she glanced back rather fearfully over her shoulder, half expecting to find a jaguar with dripping jaws panting malevolently behind her, but then her head jerked forward again as her companion said calmly:

      ‘Don’t be alarmed. It’s miles away. But sound carries in the forest.’

      Alexandra nodded, not trusting herself to say anything and then walked into him without realising he had stopped and was pointing to a light a few yards away.

      ‘Our destination,’ he observed dryly, propelling her away from him again. ‘It belongs to a friend of mine and his family.’

      Alexandra’s eyes widened. ‘You mean—people actually live out here?’

      ‘Why not?’ His voice had cooled perceptibly.

      ‘But—I mean—how can they?’ She spread her hands in an encompassing movement.

      He looked down at her and even in the faint light from the torch she could sense his displeasure. ‘To live means different things to different people, Miss Tempest. I realise that in your society material things are the criterion by which success in life is judged, but here we have a more basic appreciation of happiness.’

      Alexandra coloured and was glad he could not see it. She wanted to retaliate, to tell him that he knew nothing about the kind of society she moved in. How could he, living here in this remote part of the world, the rivers his only link with civilisation? But to stand arguing with him in the middle of the jungle with the darkness of night pressing all around them seemed the height of absurdity, so she remained silent.

      He walked away towards the hut from which the light was coming and Alexandra stumbled after him. She was beginning to feel the coldness that came from too much exposure to the damp night air and the shivering that enveloped her was as much to do with that as nervousness. Even so, she was nervous, although her blind panic had left her.

      A man emerged from the hut as they approached, carrying a lamp. Alexandra saw to her relief that he was at least wearing a pair of torn, but adequately covering, shorts, although his appearance was not encouraging. His brown Indian features were battered and scarred, and his teeth were blackened by the usual chewing of tobacco root. Behind him clustered his wife and a group of children of varying ages from two to teenage. He greeted Declan O’Rourke as warmly as Vasco had done, but their conversation was conducted in one of the Indian dialects Alexandra had heard since coming to Los Hermanos.

      His wife and the children were more interested in Alexandra. Clearly they had seen Declan O’Rourke before, but a white girl was a different matter. Alexandra, shivering in her shirt and jeans, wondered however they managed to keep warm in such a minimum amount of clothing.

      They were invited inside. The hut was larger than she had at first imagined, but it soon became apparent that they were all expected to share the same sleeping area. In the light of the lamp, Declan O’Rourke’s eyes challenged her to find some fault with this arrangement, and rather than create any unpleasantness Alexandra made no demur. She supposed she ought to feel grateful that she was at least warm again, even though the charcoal fire burning in one corner of the hut filled the air with smoke before escaping