not in other places.”

Jacome overheard that. The big man supplied a grim but knowing grin as he muttered his own opinion to the boys.

“Maybe and maybe not,” said Jacome. “In wet season, we find water everywhere; in dry season, no. But we came through big rain today, like wet season.”

After brief deliberation, Mr. Brewster gave Luiz the nod.

“We need water,” he agreed, “and perhaps we are too tired to go on much farther today. We will make camp here.”

Hardly had they unloaded their packs before Kamuka suggested to Biff, “Come with me. Maybe we find bellbird.”

They started along a twisty jungle path in the general direction of the distant metallic sound. Kamuka was moving so hurriedly that they were out of sight of camp before Biff caught up with him and reminded him, “They may want to send us for water, back at camp—”

“That can wait,” put in Kamuka. “We find bird first.”

“But you told me before that there was no use looking for the bellbird, that the sound might be far away.”

“I know. But this is not real bellbird. Listen.”

Biff listened. The sharp note came clear again, from exactly the same direction. Biff could detect no difference between it and the anvil chorus of earlier in the day. But Kamuka could.

“Somebody is hitting metal with hammer,” the Indian boy insisted. “We look for them. We find them—if we hurry.”

Kamuka waved his arm for Biff to follow, as he started a quick jog along the jungle path, hoping to reach the source of the well-faked bird call before the sounds ceased. Straight ahead, low tree branches formed a thick green arch, darkening the path between two low banks that were vivid with colorful flowers.

Mostly, they were magnificent orchids that thrived on dampness as well as heat, but Biff was unaware of that. Kamuka, though schooled in jungle knowledge, ignored the flowers in his haste. He had turned his head to see if Biff had responded to his call, when suddenly, the green carpeting of the path gave way beneath his weight.

A moment later, Kamuka was waist deep in slimy ooze, squirming, twisting about to grab at bushes on the solid ground that he had left. The tufts of grass that he 

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