When the Arrow Flies

XIII

VISIONS MUST WEAR BOOTS

FOR two and a half days the men crouched on top of the truck as it bounced over the rough trail. Sometimes it descended into deep ruts. Overhanging boughs of jungle trees often barred the way, and they had to duck to avoid thorny branches which reached out at them from the bush. They would stop and make camp about 8:30 at night, and then get up shortly after midnight and start off again. The chilling dew falls all during the night in Amazonia as compensation for the heat of the day, and the night travelers found no protection from the wind and dampness which penetrated to the bone. The truck charged through the black curtain of night like a snorting monster with two yellow eyes piercing the darkness. Occasionally they were reflected in the eyes of a startled wild creature at the side of the trail. At last a thin line on the horizon would announce that dawn was breaking, and at sunrise they could stop to make coffee at the side of the road, stretch kinks out of cramping legs, and stiffness out of aching backs.

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