cussler.blueandgold-第30节

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They　would　have　run　right　into　Gamay。　The　canoes　were　moving　in　single　file。　Each　canoe　held　three　Indians。　Two　were　paddling；　and　the　other　was　riding　shotgun；　his　bow　resting　across　his　lap。　They　seemed　intent　on　where　they　were　going　and　unaware　that　they　were　being　watched。
　
　The　Indians　passed　within　a　few　yards　of　the　hiding　place；　so　close　the　beads　of　sweat　on　their　rippling　muscles　were　clearly　visible。　They　moved　silently　across　the　lake　until　foggy　tendrils　enveloped　them。　An　instant　later　they　disappeared　into　the　vapor　cloud。
　
　〃That　was　some　vanishing　act；〃　Paul　said；　puffing　his　cheeks　out。
　
　〃Now　we　know　why　they're　called　the　People　of　the　Mist；〃　Gamay　said。　
　
　　Using　his　six…foot…eight　height　to　good　advantage；　Paul　stood　cautiously　and　made　sure　there　were　no　stragglers。　〃All　clear；〃　he　said。　〃We'd　better　think　of　getting　out　of　here。　I　still　have　the　Swiss　Army　knife。　Maybe　we　could　fashion　a　raft　with　logs　and　vines　and　float　our　way　out。〃
　
　Gamay　was　staring　toward　the　mists。　〃I　have　a　better　idea。〃　She　paused。　〃It　may　be　a　little　risky。〃
　
　'A　little　risky？〃　Paul　chuckled。　〃Don't　forget　I'm　well　acquainted　with　the　way　your　mind　works。　You're　about　to　suggest　that　we　follow　those　guys　and　steal　a　canoe。〃
　
　〃Why　not？　Look；　this　is　their　home　turf；　so　they　won't　expect　it。　With　all　due　respect　for　your　talents　with　a　Swiss　Army　knife；　I　can't　see　us　fashioning　a　boat　that　will　carry　the　two　of　us　God　knows　how　many　miles　downriver　without　sinking　or　running　into　more　of　those　characters。　It　was　tough　enough　traveling　in　an　airboat。　They　can't　paddle　those　canoes　all　day。　They　must　pull　them　up　somewhere　on　shore。　We　just　find　them；　wait　until　dark；　and　slip　one　away。　They'll　never　even　miss　it；　I　bet。〃
　
　Amusement　crept　into　Paul's　large　hazel　eyes。　〃Do　I　detect　a　hint　of　scientific　curiosity　in　your　proposal？〃
　
　〃Okay；　I　admit　there's　more　here　than　simply　a　matter　of　survival。　Don't　tell　me　you　haven't　wondered　about　this　high…tech　tribe　and　the　talk　of　a　white　goddess。〃
　
　〃I　was　wondering　if　they　have　any　food；〃　Paul　said；　patting　his　stomach。　He　chewed　thoughtfully　on　a　blade　of　grass　〃Seriously；　we're　in　something　of　a　pickle　and　really　don't　have　many　choices。　We　don't　know　where　we　are　and　aren't　sure　how　to　get　out　of　here。　We　have　no　supplies。　As　you　pointed　out；　this　is　their　territory。　I　suggest　that　we　reconnoiter。　We're　strangers　in　a　strange　land。　We　go　slow；　and　if　the　situation　looks　too　dangerous；　we　get　out　in　a　hurry。　〃
　
　〃Agreed；〃　Gamay　said。　〃Now；　as　for　food；　I'm　fresh　out　of　granola　bars。　I've　been　watching　the　birds　eating　the　berries　on　that　bush。　I　don't　see　any　dead　birds；　so　they're　probably　not　poison。〃
　
　〃Berries　it　is；〃　Paul　said。　〃They　can't　be　that　bad。〃　
　
　　Trout　was　wrong。　The　berries　were　so　bitter　it　was　impossible　to　eat　even　one　without　puckering　up。　With　empty　stomachs；　the　Trouts　struck　off　along　the　shore　of　the　lake。　At　one　point　where　the　mud　looked　like　quicksand；　they　climbed　to　higher　ground　and　stumbled　onto　a　footpath。　The　trail　was　overgrown　and　looked　as　if　it　hadn't　seen　any　recent　use。　Still；　they　proceeded　cautiously；　ready　to　dive　into　the　bushes　if　they　encountered　anyone。
　
　They　trekked　along　the　path　for　about　a　mile　until　they　came　to　a　place　where　mists　from　the　lake　rolled　into　the　forest　like　vapor　from　a　fog　machine。　The　leafy　growth　was　as　wet　as　if　it　had　been　pelted　by　a　rain　shower；　and　the　roar　of　the　falls　was　like　the　beating　of　a　thousand　kettledrums。　They　were　aware　that　the　same　noise　that　muffled　their　movement　could　drown　out　the　approach　of　a　marching　army。　'The　air　became　chilly　and　so　damp　that　they　put　their　hands　over　their　noses　so　they　wouldn't　gag。　The　visibility　was　only　a　few　feet；　and　they　kept　their　heads　low　so　their　eyes　could　pick　out　the　path。
　
　Then；　suddenly；　they　were　out　of　the　forest。　If　they　were　expecting　to　burst　out　on　a　beautiful　valley　like　wayfarers　in　Shangri…la；　they　were　disappointed。　The　forest　was　no　different　on　the　other　side　of　the　mists。　The　path　no　longer　led　along　the　lake　but　instead　veered　off　along　a　tributary　that　the　canoes　must　have　followed。
　
　After　a　few　minutes　Gamay　stopped　and　shook　her　head。　〃Notice　anything　strange　about　this　little　river？〃
　
　Paul　walked　over　to　the　edge　of　the　banking。　〃Yes；　it's　much　too　straight　to　be　natural。　It　looks　as　if　someone　has　taken　an　existing　stream　and　marsh　and　cleared　them　out　with　shovel　and　pick。〃
　
　〃My　thoughts　exactly。〃　Gamay　started　walking　again。　〃As　I　said；　the　Chulo　are　most　fascinating。〃
　
　They　plodded　ahead　for　several　hours。　They　had　fashioned　hats　from　palm　leaves　and　stopped　frequently　to　quench　their　thirst　from　the　river。　At　one　point　they　waited　out　a　shower。　They　became　more　tense　and　watchful　as　the　path　widened；　and　they　began　to　see　the　imprints　of　a　bare　foot　in　the　soft；　dark　earth。
　
　After　a　short　discussion；　they　decided　to　follow　the　river　for　a　while　longer；　then　hide　in　the　forest　until　dark。　They　were　dog　tired　and　needed　to　replenish　their　energy。　As　they　plodded　along　they　encountered　a　path　ing　in　from　the　forest　to　their　right。　It　was　made　of　thousands　of　flat　stones　and　reminded　Gamay　of　the　Maya　or　Inca　roads。　It　was　as　good　as　anything　she　had　seen　on　the　Appian　Way。　Their　curiosity　got　the　best　of　them；　and　they　followed　the　paved　path　for　five　more　minutes。　They　were　drawn　on　even　farther　by　a　gleam　through　the　trees。
　
　The　walkway　widened　into　a　perfectly　circular　clearing　about　fifty　feet　in　diameter　and　also　surfaced　entirely　with　stones。　In　the　center　of　the　clearing　was　a　large　object。
　
　〃I'll　be　damned；〃　they　said　in　unison。
　
　The　jet　plane　was　in　two　sections。　The　front　was　intact；　but　the　passenger　cabin　was　virtually　gone。　The　tail　section　was　in　fair　shape　and　had　been　moved　directly　behind　the　cockpit；　giving　the　aircraft　a　short；　stubby　look。　The　paint　was　old　and　faded　and　not　overgrown　by　vines　or　lichen　as　might　be　expected。
　
　They　peered　through　the　cracked　cockpit　windows；　expecting　to　see　skeletons。　The　seats　were　empty。　Directly　in　front　of　the　cockpit　was　a　shallow　pit　holding　the　blackened　ashes　of　fires　and　charred　bones　of　small　animals。　Carved　totems　as　tall　and　thick　as　a　man　ringed　the　stone　circle。　The　figures　adorning　each　post　were　different。　Carved　in　dark　wood　at　the　top　of　each　pole　was　a　winged　woman　with　her　hands　cupped　in　front　of　her。　It　was　the　same　figure　carved　onto　the　medallion　they　had　found　on　the　dead　Indian。
　
　〃It　looks　like　some　sort　of　shrine；〃　Gamay　whispered。　She　went　over　to　the　ash　pit。　〃This　must　be　where　they　burned　sacrifices。　Mostly　bones　from　small　animals。〃
　
　〃That's　certainly　reassuring；〃　Paul　said。　He　looked　up　at　the　sun；　then　checked　his　watch。　〃They've　got　the　plane　positioned　so　that　it　acts　like　a　sundial。　It　reminds　me　of　the　layout　at　Stonehenge；　with　the　concentric　rings　that　acted　as　a　celestial　calendar。〃
　
　Gamay　put　her　hand　on　the　plane's　nose。　〃Does　this　blue　and…white　color　scheme　seem　familiar　to　you？〃
　
　〃What　do　you　know？　The　Chulo　national　colors。〃
　
　Gamay's　eyes　widened　as　she　looked　past　Paul；　who　had　his　back　to　the　forest。
　
　〃That's　not　the　only　thing　around　here　that's　blue　and　white。〃
　
　Paul　turned　and　saw　about　twenty　Chulo　Indians　emerge　from　the　trees；　their　faces　and　bodies　painted　the　colors　of　sky　and　bone。　He　cursed　himself　for　allowing　the　plane's　discovery　to　push　caution　aside。　As　silently　as　the　ghosts　they　were　reputed　to　be；　the　Indians　surrounded　them。　There　was　no　way　to　run。　Paul　and　Gamay　were　pletely　boxed　in。
　
　The　Indians　advanced　with　their　spears　held　high；　but　then　they　did　a　peculiar　thing。　They　opened　the　circle。　One　Indian　indicated　with　his　spear　that　they　were　to　go　through　the　opening。　The　Trouts　glanced　at　each　other　for　mutual　reassurance；　then；　with　the　silent　Indians　flanking　them　like　a　military　honor　guard；　they　marched　from　the　shrine　and　followed　the　path　along　the　river。
　
　The　path　widened　into　a　road　that　took　them　to　a　stockade　palisade。　They　made　their　way　toward　a　gate　wide　enough　to　drive　a　truck　through。　From　a　distance　they　had　seen　on　either　side　of　the　gate　tall　wooden　staffs　that　had　knobs　on　the　top　like　flagpoles。　As　they　neared　the　entrance　Gamay　squeezed　her　husband's　hand　even　tighter。
　
　〃Paul；　look；〃　she　said。
　
　He　followed　her　gaze。　〃Oh；　hell。〃
　
　The　knobs　were　in　fact　human　heads。　Their　faces　had　been　baked　brown　like　apples　in　the　sun；　and　the　birds　and　insects　had　been　making　inroads；　but　it　was　still　possible　to　pick　out　Dieter's　features。　He　wasn't　smiling。　Neither　was　Arnaud　or　his　taciturn　assistant；　Carlo。　The　fourth　head　belonged　to　their　Indian　henchman。　Trout　recognized　him　by　the　New　York　Yankees　baseball　cap。　
　
　　Then　they　were　through　the　gates；　past　the　grisly　decorations。　Behind　the　fence　were　several　dozen　long　thatched　huts　clustered　along　the　river。　No　women　or　children　were　visible。　Their　guards　had　lowered　their　spears　and　unstrung　their　arrows　and　were　using　the　presence　of　their　bodies　to　keep　the　Trouts　from　trying　anything　foolish。
　
　Paul　said；　〃Look　at　that　water　wheel。　We　hav