“Urubu is signaling for Luiz,” declared Mr. Brewster. “He may wait an hour or so and try again. When Serbot finally decides that we have moved on, he will think that Luiz is taking us the long way. We should get a good head start, right now.”
The safari pressed forward at a quick pace which was maintained most of the day. The going was not as hard as Biff had anticipated. Luiz’s talk of a tough trail had been a sham, so that the party would be willing to take the long route.
Even some of the streams they encountered were already bridged with fallen trees, making crossing easy. After one such crossing, Jacome suggested stopping to eat. Mr. Brewster opened some canned goods, but most of the bearers preferred bowls of coarse cereal, made from the manioc or cassava plant. This formed their chief diet.
Jacome gnawed on a large bone of left-over tapir meat. When he had finished half of the meat, he suddenly tossed the bone into the stream. Instantly, the water flashed with silvery streaks in the shape of long, sleek fish that fought for the bone and tore the remaining meat to shreds.
“Piranha,” grunted Jacome. “They rip anybody who goes in water. If we chop away tree, Urubu will have to stop to build new bridge to get across.”
“Serbot might suspect something,” objected Mr. Brewster. “If they guess that we are on the same trail ahead of them, they will hurry. It is better to let them think that they can take their time.”
Jacome still found time to fish for piranha during the short rest. The cannibal fish practically leaped from the water to take the bait. Jacome took no chances with the sharp teeth that projected from their bulldog jaws. He cut the lines and tossed the fish into a basket, hooks and all. When the safari made camp at dusk, they cooked the piranha, and the fish proved a tasty dinner, indeed.
Mr. Brewster kept the safari at a steady pace during the next few days in order to stay ahead of Serbot’s party. Jacome proved an excellent guide, remembering every landmark along the trail. One afternoon, a rain ended as they trudged beside the bank of a sluggish stream and Jacome pointed into the distance with the comment:
“Big rock. There.”
It was Piedra Del Cucuy, a huge, stumpy shaft of granite, towering hundreds of feet above the forest. The rock was streaked with tiny trees that looked like sprinklings from the vast green vegetation that spread beneath. Though the natural boundary marker was still a day’s march away, the mere sight of it spurred on the safari.