Nothing, at least, until the safari reached a deep but narrow stream that the bearers promptly identified as Rio Del Muerte. Then they broke into a babble of Indian talk that only Jacome was able to translate.
“They say they leave us here,” declared Jacome. “It is death, they say, to go down this river.”
Mr. Brewster studied the narrow trail that flanked the riverbank and dwindled off into the thick green of the jungle.
“Tell them that if they go back the way they came, they may meet the Macus.”
Jacome translated Mr. Brewster’s comment. The bearers chattered back excitedly, and Jacome announced:
“They say they would rather meet Macu than stay near Rio Del Muerte. They say they go home now.”
While Jacome spoke, the bearers picked up their few belongings and started on their homeward trek. Biff and Kamuka noted that they did not even stop to fill their water bags from the stream that they seemed to dread so much.
“What do you make of it, Kamuka?” Biff asked.
“I do not know,” Kamuka replied. “I cannot even understand the things they say to Jacome, except that they are afraid to go downriver.”
However, the expedition was far from being stranded. The pack bags that the native bearers had abandoned contained three rubber boats, complete with aluminum seats and paddles. Biff and Kamuka helped pump them full of air, so that they took on a squatty, roundish shape.