Tex stood up. "I should have gone into the cattle business. Okay, Oscar- what next?"
"The first thing is for you and Matt to build a litter to carry the boss. We've got to find open water and I don't want to split up the party."
The same clump of cane grass that furnished splints provided material for a litter frame. Using both knives Matt and Tex cut two seven-foot lengths as thick as their upper arms. The stuff was light and, in that thickness, satisfactorily stiff. They slipped the poles through the sleeves of their blouses, then notched in cross pieces near each end. There was a wide gap in the middle which they wound about with the line salvaged from the jeep.
The result was a sloppy piece of work, but serviceable. Thurlow was still unconscious. His breathing was shallow but his pulse was still steady. They lifted him onto the stretcher and set out, with Oscar in the lead, compass in hand.
For about an hour they tramped through swampy land, splashing through mud, getting welts from the undergrowth, and pursued by clouds of insects. At last Matt called out, "Oz! We've just got to have some rest."
Jensen turned around. "Okay-this is the end of the line, anyhow. Open water."
They crowded forward and joined him. Beyond the cane brake, perfectly flat and calm under the fog, was a pond or lake. Its size was uncertain as the far shore was lost in the mist.
They tramped out a spot to put the litter down, then Oscar bent over the water and slapped it-Slap!-Slap!-Slap, slap, slap-Slap, slap!
"What do we do now?"
"We wait-and pray. Thank goodness the natives are usu-1 ally friendly."