XXI
THE INDIANS ARE HERE!
RAPIDS and more rapids, but today it was worse. They had to carry all the cargo for a mile or more. It meant going back and forth through the heavily overgrown jungle. Harry was carrying his accordion, skirting a waterfall, ducking under overgrowth at the edge of the jungle, when a large thorn pierced through his upper lip and held him prisoner. His hands were gripping the case which he didn’t want to drop. He couldn’t form words to call anybody. He couldn’t move in any direction. His inarticulate sounds fortunately reached Harold’s ears, and he came to the rescue. “You look like Absalom when his hair caught in the tree branches and his horse went out from under him.” Harold extricated the thorn. Such aggravating little incidents were always happening. But there was one serious trouble. Food was now dangerously scarce, and the men were living on scant rations. Also, no one knew
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