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e waist； slashing his way through the jungle； his sweaty back peppered with chips； twigs； and leaves。 For months they had hacked their way through the jungle； bitten； cut； infected； sick…finding nothing。 And then Max had ditched him； gone upriver and found the prize for which they'd been searching for over a year。 Hauser went home broke and had to enlist 。。。 He shook his head； as if to throw off the resentment。 That was past。 The future…and Broadbent's fortune…belonged to him。
The teniente spoke。 〃Shall I send back a detail of soldiers to kill them？ This time we will be sure to finish them； jefe； I promise you。〃
〃No；〃 he said。 〃Let them e。〃
〃I don't understand。〃
Hauser turned to the teniente。 〃Don't molest them。 Leave them alone。 Let them e。〃
53
Philip recovered more slowly than the others； but after three more days of Borabay's ministrations he was able to walk。 One sunny morning they broke camp and set off for the Tara village in the foothills of the Sierra Azul。 Borabay's herbal concoctions； ointments； and teas had had a remarkable effect on them all。 Borabay went first with his machete； setting a fast pace。 By noon they had reached the broad river where they first discovered Philip； covering in five hours the distance that had taken them five days to travel on their desperate retreat。 Beyond the river； as they got closer to the Sierra Azul； Borabay began to move more cautiously。 They entered the foothills and began to gain altitude。 The forest seemed to get sunnier； less somber。 The limbs of the trees were decked with orchids； and cheerful patches of sun speckled the way ahead。
They spent the night in an old Tara encampment； a semicircle of palm…thatched shelters； sunken among rioting greenery。 Borabay waded through the waist…high vegetation； his machete singing； clearing a path to the best…preserved cluster of huts。 He ducked inside； and Tom heard the smack of the machete； the stomping of feet； and some muttered cursing； first in one small hut； and then in another。 Borabay appeared with a small writhing snake impaled on the point of the machete； which he flicked into the forest。 〃Huts now clean。 You go in； set up hammocks； get rest。 I make dinner。〃
Tom looked at Sally。 He felt his heart beating so strongly in his chest that it was almost audible。 Without exchanging a word； they both knew what they were going to do。
They entered the smaller of the huts。 It was warm inside and smelled of dry grass。 Rays of sunlight pierced little holes in the palm thatch； dappling the interior with flecks of afternoon light。 Tom hung up his own hammock and then watched her set up hers。 The spots of light were like a handful of gold coins flung into her hair； which flashed on her as she moved。 When she was done； Tom stepped toward her and took her hand。 It was trembling slightly。 He drew her to him； ran his fingers through her hair； and kissed her on the lips。 She moved closer； her body touching his； and he kissed her again。 This time her lips parted and he tasted her tongue； then kissed her mouth； her chin； the side of her neck； and she pulled him close and gripped his back as he kissed the top of her shirt； moving downward； kissing each button as he unfastened it。 He freed her breasts and continued kissing them； first their soft sides and then around her nipples； hard and erect； and then slid his hands down her smooth belly。 He could feel her hands massaging the muscles on his back。 He unbuckled her pants and knelt； kissing her belly button and sliding the palms of his hands around to grip her from behind as he slid down her pants。 She thrust her hips forward and parted her thighs with a short intake of breath as he continued kissing her； holding her buttocks； until he felt her fingers dig into his shoulders and heard her sharp intake of breath； a sudden gasp； her whole body shuddering。
Then she undressed him and they lay down together in the warm darkness and they made love while the sun set； the little coins of light turning red and then fading as the sun sank behind the trees； leaving the hut in a hushed darkness； the only sound the faint cries that filled the strange world around them。
54
They were awakened by Borabay's cheerful voice。 Night had fallen； and the air was cooler； the smell of roasting meat drifting through the hut。
〃Dinner！〃
Tom and Sally dressed and emerged from the hut； feeling embarrassed。 The sky was resplendent with stars； the great Milky Way arcing like a river of light over their heads。 Tom had never seen the night so black or the Milky Way so bright。
Borabay was sitting by the fire； turning shish kebabs while he worked on a dry gourd； drilling holes in it and slicing a groove in one end。 When he was finished he lifted it to his lips and blew。 A sweet； low note came out； and then another and another。 He stopped and grinned。
〃Who want to hear music？〃
He began to play； the wandering notes gathering into a haunting melody。 The jungle fell silent as the pure； clean sounds spilled from the gourd； faster now； rising and falling； with runs of notes as clear and hurried as a mountain stream。 There were moments of quiet while the melody remained suspended in the air around them； and then the song resumed。 It ended with a series of low notes as ghostly as the moan of wind in a cave。
When he stopped； the silence lasted for minutes。 Gradually the jungle noises began to enter the space vacated by the melody。
〃Beautiful；〃 said Sally。
〃You must've inherited that ability from your mother；〃 said Vernon。 〃Father had a tin ear。〃
〃Yes。 My mother sing very beautiful。〃
〃You're lucky；〃 said Vernon。 〃We hardly knew our mothers。〃
〃You not have same mother？〃
〃No。 They were all different。 Father pretty much raised us himself。〃
Borabay's eyes widened。 〃I not understand。〃
〃When there's a divorce 。。。〃 Tom stopped。 〃Well； sometimes one parent gets the children and the other one disappears。〃
Borabay shook his head。 〃This very strange。 I wish I had father。〃 He turned the shish kebabs。 〃Tell me what growing up with Father like。〃
Philip laughed harshly。 〃My God； where to begin？ When I was a kid I thought he was terrifying。〃
Vernon broke in。 〃He loved beauty。 So much so that he sometimes wept in front of a beautiful painting or statue。〃
Philip gave another sarcastic snort。 〃Yeah； weeping because he couldn't have it。 He wanted to own beauty。 He wanted it for himself。 Women； paintings； whatever。 If it was beautiful he wanted it。〃
〃That's putting it rather crudely；〃 said Tom。 〃There's nothing wrong with loving beauty。 The world can be such an ugly place。 He loved art for itself； not because it was fashionable or made him money。〃
〃He didn't live his life by other people's rules；〃 Vernon said。 〃He was a skeptic。 He marched to a different drummer。〃
Philip waved his hand。 〃Marched to a different drummer？ No； Vernon； he whacked the different drummer upside the head； took his drum； and led the parade himself。 That was his approach to life。〃
〃What you do with him？〃
Vernon said； 〃He loved taking us camping。〃
Philip leaned back and barked a laugh。 〃Appalling camping trips with rain and mosquitoes； during which he brutalized us with camp chores。