the group piloted the cruiser under the bright tropical moon, the others slept in the ample cockpit; never in the tiny forward cabin.

One evening when Nara was at the wheel, Biff and his father were seated near the stern, far enough away for Biff to ask:

“Do you think Joe Nara doubts your story, Dad?”

“About the map being stolen?” returned Mr. Brewster. “He might be wondering about it. After all, I could have torn the corner from a map that belonged to someone else.”

“But you gave him Kirby’s hand grip and when you mentioned ‘El Dorado’ it was like a password.”

“I could have learned those from some other person. Nara has to be cautious, with a gold mine at stake. I think he trusts me but wants to sound me out. Watch him, and you’ll see he is suspicious of everything.”

Biff noted that as the trip continued, Nara insisted upon giving other river craft a wide berth. When occasional airplanes flew high above, Nara always leaned out from beneath the canopy to study them suspiciously, but the planes apparently took no notice of the boat below.

After the cruiser had passed Santa Isabel, Biff was taking his turn at the wheel when Nara approached and remarked:

“Pretty soon we’ll drop you and your dad at the old rubber camp where your friend Whitman is waiting for you.”

“Aren’t you going to join us on the safari?”

“Not there,” returned Nara. “I’m taking the Xanadu on to Sao Gabriel, to see if we can buck the rapids and reach the upper river.”

Mr. Brewster had been close enough to hear Nara’s comment. Now, he put the query:

“Then where will we meet you, Joe?”

“At Piedra Del Cucuy,” Nara replied. “You can see it for miles, a big rock rising from the forest, where Brazil, Venezuela, and Colombia all meet up. By the time you arrive there, we will know if it is safe to go on.”

“Why wouldn’t it be safe?” asked Biff.

“Because of the Macus, the head-hunters who raid the river settlements.” Nara turned to his two Indians and said: “Tell them about the Macus.”

“Macu very bad,” stated Igo.

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