Mary Elizabeth Counselman

“ The Chavante boy hissed sharply, shaking his head and making a silencing gesture. On the opposite side of Harbin’s cot, he whispered in obvious awe:
"Senhor—do not espeak! Brujo esmoke the ayahuasca. The drug of second sight—”
"Oh!” Sir Cedric snorted, impatient. “I’ve heard of that—damned lot of nonsense. Or,” he smiled wryly, "maybe it isn’t. Maybe it works something like sodium pentothal. Releases the subconscious mind. ”

“ And well, if they were cannibals, if that was what the Inspector of Indians had warned him; the devil with Mario! Luring a man’s wife away from him as he lay helpless, unable to follow! Diana, they would bring back with them, and—well, he could take it from there.
TEARS of reproach seeped from between Harbin’s closed lids. Diana—how could she have done this to him? But she was such a child, easily impressed, overly romantic. Forgiveness? What was it old Murika had said about forgiveness being better than vengeance? Sir Cedric smiled wryly. ”

“ A small prickle of conscience nagged him now and then, thinking of the Urubu’s gesture when he spoke of Mario. Suppose Diana loved the blighter? Had he any right to—? But what sort of life would she lead with a jungle guide? Harbin snorted. Whatever the rotter was going to get, he richly deserved! Killing a man, or having him killed, for seducing your wife was the accepted thing, here in hot-tempered Brazil. Besides—Sir Cedric gave a. hard laugh—he could say he hadn’t really given that order to the Urubu chief; that the Indian had misunderstood him. ”

“ They could build a life together, even with the memory of her having run off with that handsome guide standing like an impenetrable wall of jungle between them. It wouldn’t, really. Harbin’s smile became peaceful, almost eager. He was a civilized man, he told himself. The daily sight of his wife’s smiling face would not, as Murika predicted, "drive him into madness. ”

“ Diana Harbin laid two fingers over his mouth. She lifted his head tenderly, gave him a sip of herva matte through a bombilia stuck in a gourd, then riffled through a month-old magazine. '“Here; do try to read, and relax'. You can’t go hunting your precious Lost City with three broken ribs, and that's all there is to it. So stop fretting about it! Mario has. the situation well in hand."
A look flashed over Sir Cedric’s middle-aged face. ”

“ In fact, a poisoned blowgun dart (presumably aimed at a silver and black iguana) had barely missed his shoulder, Mario had reported uncomfortably.
"And good riddance!” Harbin muttered half-aloud, glowering up at the patched roof of the tent. "Never did trust those pretty-boys where a woman’s concerned! Not one as lovely as Diana—so young and romantic and impressionable.”
"Hanh? Senhor speak?” The Chavante boy startled him, waving his fern rapidly and flashing white teeth in a dark brown Mongoloid face.
"What? Oh! Nothing. Just talking to myself,” Harbin snapped. ”

“ Helps dig out. facts the conscious mind’s forgotten. Hmmp!” He rolled over on his side, wincing, to watch the old man as he sat, swaying and smoking, in utter silence.
Presently, however, the Brujo’s eyes opened. They had a weird doped look staring unseeingly at Harbin as though they gazed through him, through tire stained tent walls, and farther, much farther, through the matted jungle outside. Very slowly the old witch-doctor began to speak, chanting a curious singsong now in Chavante, now in Portuguese. Harbin made out the Portuguese with an effort, but the Indian was beyond him. ”

“ Murika said nothing, but shook his head very slowly.
“They are but children,” he said quietly. "Do not condemn the forest people. Capitao, if they do not understand. They go only to do the Senhor’s bidding.”
Harbin nodded impatiently, eyes narrowed. “All right. So I told them to kill him! What’s it to you, you shriveled-up old fool?” he snapped, waving Murika from his tent. "Get out of here! ”

“ His large vague eyes were troubled, and again they had that faraway look. Again Harbin’s nose wrinkled as he smelled the acrid odor of ayahuasca, from the Brujo's pipe. Murika . was staring at him—and through him.
"I see . ." the mellow voice intoned.
" I see... a Lost City, which the jungle has eaten. There are great blocks of stone, carven with strange writing. The Smiling One stands before it, while the man takes her picture.”
"The devil you say!” Sir Cedric pulled himself erect, glaring. "So the rotter’s not only stolen my wife, but he’s jumped the gun on my expedition, eh? ”

“ Tomorrow he’d have the bearers lift him into the boat, and he and Diana would go back to civilization. They'd follow the river, even if it took longer. He’d not keep her here in this green hell another day longer than necessary. Back at Belem, in a decent hotel, he’d make her forget all about Mario. He’d shower her with presents, make subtle love to her.
ABRUPTLY, a cry reached his ears. He had been straining for the sound, praying for it to come. The Urubus were back. Now, darting to the tent opening, his Chavante boy turned and nodded, wide-eyed and subdued.
"Capitao? ”

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