Country Of The Falcon. Anne Mather

him. He was at home here as the Indians themselves. He shared their food, their homes, their conversation. He swam in their rivers with a complete disregard for the dangers of piranhas and alligators, as they did, while she…

      She shook her head. It was an unfair comparison. She was English. She had had a comparatively sheltered upbringing. Just because he chose to live in some dank hole in the forest it did not mean that his way was best. Perhaps he had never had the opportunity to do anything else. No doubt her father had a totally different outlook.

      Her father!

      She cupped her chin in her hands. Surely he wouldn’t be angry with her for making this journey. Surely he would see that she had only done it because she loved him and wanted to be with him, wouldn’t he? She frowned, remembering occasions when as a child she had disobeyed him in the past. He wasn’t always the most even-tempered of men, and it was quite possible that he would demand that she return home to England immediately.

      She squared her shoulders. Well, she wasn’t a child now. She was seventeen. She would be eighteen soon. At eighteen one acquired maturity, it was said. So what difference did a few months make?

      They inevitably reached that stretch of the river where the water churned and bubbled over ugly black rocks that reared their heads above the spume. Alexandra sat on the edge of her seat, waiting for them to pull over to the side. But they didn’t.

      The Indians produced paddles, the engine was switched off, and the boat was manhandled through the swirling torrent. Alexandra held the wooden seat so tightly that the wood bit into her fingers, but she was so intent on their negotiation of the rapids that she scarcely felt the self-inflicted pain. Declan O’Rourke had a paddle, too, and inch by inch they climbed the dangerous hissing cauldron until they finally thrust themselves into the comparatively smooth waters above.

      A weak sigh escaped her as the paddles were put away and the engine was re-started, but she saw to her surprise that no one else seemed the least concerned. Declan left the Indians and came back to where she was sitting, looking down at her with mocking eyes.

      ‘Well?’ he said. ‘Did you enjoy that?’

      She made an involuntary gesture. ‘You must know I didn’t.’

      ‘No? I’d have thought you’d have appreciated the excitement.’

      Alexandra brushed an insect off her knee. ‘Santos said—we would have to walk round the rapids.’

      ‘Did he? Yes, well, that does happen on the longer stretches. This was comparatively simple to negotiate.’ He glanced round. ‘Not much further now,’ he added with satisfaction.

      Alexandra clasped her hands. ‘Isn’t it?’ She made a little movement of her shoulders. ‘Thank heavens for that!’

      Declan seemed about to say something else and then thought better of it. With another wry raising of his dark eyebrows, he turned and went back to his earlier position.

      Towards midday, when the heat was becoming intense again, Declan brought the boat in to the bank. To Alexandra’s inexperienced eyes it seemed that they had reached nowhere in particular. There was not even a landing, only a cleared pathway through the trees. Was Paradiablo to be a clearing in the forest like that hut they had stayed at the night before? Alexandra’s heart sank.

      Declan moored the craft and collected his haversack and her cases from the bottom of the boat. The Indians climbed ashore, too, this time and took charge of the heavier luggage. Declan helped Alexandra on to the river-bank and then indicated that she should follow the Indians along the path between the trees. An enormous black bird, about the size of a game bird back home, rose out of the underbrush in front of them, squawking frighteningly, and Alexandra had to be urged onward as her footsteps began to lag.

      Presently, however, they emerged into a wide clearing where some attempt at cultivation had been made. There was a small mandioca plantation, and the beginnings of a crop of what might be sweet potatoes, tilled no doubt by the occupants of the collection of huts that edged the forest and who had come out to observe the newcomers. But what attracted Alexandra’s instant attention was not the unexpectedly thriving community, or the remarkably good looks of the children, but a gleaming silver aircraft standing on a mudbaked strip.

      She swung round to look at Declan with uncomprehending eyes. ‘Is that—are we to—fly?’

      He half smiled. ‘I’m afraid so.’

      A faint measure of comprehension came to her. ‘Yesterday—there was an aircraft flying around. Was that you?’

      Declan nodded. ‘The Velhijo is quite a long river. I didn’t just happen upon you, if that’s what you mean. These men——’ He indicated the Indians who had been his crew. ‘They come from this village. It’s useful for me to have transport to reach Los Hermanos. There is no landing strip there.’

      Suddenly it was all beginning to make sense, but still she hesitated. ‘Do we—have much further to go, then?’

      ‘About three hundred miles,’ he stated calmly, and she gasped.

      ‘But that would have taken days by boat!’ she protested.

      ‘Didn’t you know that?’

      ‘No!’ She shook her head dazedly. ‘Santos was always very vague when I asked about the length of the journey.’

      ‘I’ll bet he was.’ Declan pushed her forward. ‘Go on! The head man of the village is waiting to greet us.’

      They were invited to share a meal with the community before continuing their journey and Alexandra looked rather uneasily at Declan when he explained this.

      ‘Don’t worry,’ he remarked dryly, as rush mats were spread out for their use. ‘You won’t get food poisoning.’

      In fact the meal of roasted venison was remarkably enjoyable and Declan explained that they were honoured in being offered meat. The forests were not teeming with game, and the Indians’ main source of protein came from fish.

      Afterwards they were escorted to the aircraft and Alexandra felt a surge of excitement as Declan loaded their luggage and helped her inside. It was a beautiful little machine and she wondered to whom it belonged. There was room for the pilot and three passengers and Delcan strapped her into the seat directly behind his.

      ‘All right?’ he enquired, levering himself behind the controls, and she nodded eagerly.

      ‘Okay. Here we go!’

      Declan put on headphones and Alexandra heard the crackle of static as he contacted air control at Manaus. There was a brief interchange of Portuguese and then the powerful little engine sprang to life sending the propellers spinning wildly. Declan released his brakes and taxied slowly to the end of the narrow runway and then turned to make the take-off.

      It was a hair-raising experience. The trees seemed to be rushing towards them as they sped down the strip and Alexandra was convinced they would never clear those towering canopies of leaves. But just as she was closing her eyes, sure that her end had come, the small aircraft lifted and surged upward and over effortlessly. She breathed a sigh of relief and Declan glanced round at her.

      ‘You’re going to give yourself heart trouble before you’re thirty if you don’t stop anticipating the worst,’ he remarked, turning back to his observation of the open sky ahead of them. ‘You don’t suppose that’s the first time I’ve lifted off there, do you?’

      Alexandra felt weak. ‘No, I suppose not. It was just—all those trees!’

      Declan cleared himself with air control and pushed back the headphones. ‘You’re a mass of nerves,’ he said callously. ‘I don’t know what they teach you at that school of yours, but it surely isn’t helping you none.’

      Alexandra looked down at the thick carpet of trees below them, intersected by the winding maze of rivers. She marvelled that anyone could navigate the area without getting totally lost. There seemed few landmarks that