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nd sit up。
She looked at him again and winced。 〃My God； you're drenched in blood。〃 She looked over at the jaguar； stretched out in all its golden glory on the ground； its eyes half open。 〃You killed her with your machete？〃
〃I had my machete out； and she jumped on it and did all the work herself。〃 He put his arm around her。 〃Can you stand up？〃
〃Sure。〃
He helped her up； and she staggered a little； then recovered。 〃Give me my gun。〃
Tom fetched it。 〃I'll carry it。〃
〃No； I'll just carry it over the other shoulder。 You carry the peccary。〃
Tom didn't argue。 He retied the peccary on the pole； slung it over his shoulder； and paused to take one last look at the jaguar stretched out on its side； its eyes glazed over； lying in a pool of blood。
〃You're going to have one hell of a cocktail party story to tell when we get out of here；〃 said Sally with a grin。
Back at the camp； Vernon and Don Alfonso listened to their story in silence。 When Tom was finished Don Alfonso laid a hand on his shoulder； looked into his eyes； and said； 〃You are one crazy yanqui； Tomasito； you know that？〃
Tom and Sally retreated into the privacy of the hut while he redoctored her wound with some of her own herbal antibiotics as she sat cross…legged on the ground with her shirt off； mending it with bark thread Don Alfonso had made。 She kept looking at him out of the corner of her eye； trying to suppress a smile。 Finally she said； 〃Have I thanked you for saving my life yet？〃
〃I don't need thanks。〃 Tom tried to hide the flush in his face。 It wasn't the first time he had seen her with her shirt off…they had long ago abandoned pretenses of privacy…but this time he felt an intense erotic charge。 He noticed a blush creeping up her chest； spreading between her breasts； her nipples erect。 Did she feel the same way？
〃Yes； you do。〃 She put down the shirt she was mending； turned around； put her arms around his neck； and kissed him softly on the lips。
39
Hauser halted his men at the river。 Beyond he could see the blue flanks of the Sierra Azul rising into the clouds； like the lost world of Arthur Conan Doyle。 He crossed the clearing himself and examined the muddy trail on the far side。 The constant rain had washed away most marks； but it had the advantage of telling him that the bare footprints he saw must be very fresh…no more than a few hours old。 It looked like a group of six men； a hunting party perhaps。
These； then； were the Indians that Broadbent had allied himself with。 No one else lived in these godforsaken jungle mountains。
Hauser rose from his kneeling position and reflected for a moment。 He would lose any cat…and…mouse chase in this jungle。 He would get nothing from them by negotiation； either。 That left only one sensible course of action。
He signaled the soldiers forward； taking the lead himself。 They moved swiftly down the trail in the direction the men had gone。 He had left Philip in the rear； well manacled； and guarded by a soldier。 The Broadbent son was by now too weak to keep up and in no condition to escape； especially with manacles。 It was a shame to lose the services of a soldier when he had so few petent ones； but when the time came Philip could be a useful bargaining chip。 One should never underestimate the value of a hostage。
He ordered his men into double…time。
It unfolded exactly as he suspected。 The Indians had heard them ing just in time and had melted into the forest…but not before Hauser had marked where they'd gone。 He was an expert jungle tracker； and he pursued them at full press； a blitzkreig strategy that never failed to terrify even the most prepared enemy…let alone a group of unsuspecting hunters。 His men split； and Hauser took himself and two others on a roundabout route； cutting off the Indians。
It was fast； furious； and earsplitting。 The jungle shook。 It brought back with such vividness his many firefights in Vietnam。 In less than a minute it was over； trees were shattered and stripped； bushes smoking； the ground pulverized； an acrid haze drifting upward。 One small tree had its branches hung with orchids and entrails。
It was amazing； really； what a couple of simple grenade launchers could do。
Hauser added up the body parts and determined that four men had been killed。 Two others had escaped。 For once his soldiers had acted petently。 This is what they were good at： straight…ahead； unplicated killing。 He would have to remember that。
There wasn't much time。 He needed to reach the village shortly after the two survivors in order to strike at the moment of greatest confusion and terror； but before they could organize。
He turned and shouted to his men。 〃Arriba！ Vamonos！〃
The men cheered； heartened by his enthusiasm； finally in their element。 〃To the village！〃
40
It rained for a week solid； without letup。 Every day they pushed forward； up and down canyons； along precarious cliffs； across roaring streams； all of it buried in the thickest jungle Tom thought possible。 If they made four miles it was a good day。 After seven days of this Tom awoke one morning to find the rain had finally ceased。 Don Alfonso was already up； tending a large fire。 His face was grave。 While they ate breakfast； he announced：
〃I had a dream last night。〃
The serious tone in his voice gave Tom pause。 〃What kind of dream？〃
〃I dreamed that I died。 My soul went up into the sky and began searching for St。 Peter。 I found him standing in front of the gates of heaven。 He hailed me as I came up。 'Don Alfonso； is that you； you old rascal？' he asked。 'That's right；' I said。 'It is I； Don Alfonso Boswas； who died in the jungle far from home at the age of one hundred and twenty…one； and I want to e inside and see my Rosita。' 'What were you doing way out there in the jungle； Don Alfonso？' he asked。 'I was with some crazy yanquis going to the Sierra Azul；' I said。 'And did you get there？' he asked。 'No；' I said。 'Well then； Don Alfonso； you scoundrel； you'll have to go back。' 〃
He stopped； then added； 〃And so I came back。〃
Tom wasn't sure how to react。 For a moment he thought the dream might be one of Don Alfonso's jokes； until he saw the serious look on the old man's face。 He exchanged a glance with Sally。
〃So what does this dream mean？〃 Sally asked。
Don Alfonso placed a piece of matta root inside his mouth and chewed thoughtfully； then leaned over to spit put the pulp。 〃It means I have only a few more days with you。〃
〃A few more days？ Don't be ridiculous。〃
Don Alfonso finished his stew and rose； saying； 〃Let us talk no more about this and go to the Sierra Azul。〃
That day was worse than before； for when the rains ceased the insects appeared。 The travelers struggled up and down a succession of steep ridges on trails deep in muck； falling and sliding constantly； hounded by swarms。 Toward afternoon they descended into another ravine echoing with the sound of roaring water。 As they descended the roar became louder； and Tom realized a major river lay at the bottom。 As the foliage broke at the banks of the river； Don Alfonso； who was in front； halted and retreated in confusion； motioning them to stay back in the trees。
〃What's wrong？〃 Tom asked。
〃There is a dead man acro