OUR hundred miles from the sea, the adobe settlement of Caicara squatted on the south shore of the tawny river Orinoco.
Fifty miles upstream, heading seaward, a dingy gray launch butted its prow through a rolling horde of waves and doggedly advanced in the teeth of the northeast trade-wind.
Midway between town and boat, and three leagues up a nameless tributary, a long fleet of dugout canoes crawled like a great snake toward the master river.
Over all these, as over all the wide, wild reaches of Venezuela, blazed torrid sun.
In the low, mud-walled houses and the crooked streets of the pueblo moved the leisurely life of the townspeople; petty trading in the crude shops, with much con- verse and little cash; slow arrivals and departures of straw-sombreroed men and sleepy-eyed burros; giggling gossip among mestizo women in patios or at doorways; an occasional shrill squabble between scantily clad children; all the trivialities which went to make up an average equatorial day. Within only one set of walls did thought reach beyond the passing hour—in the official home of the jeje civil, or town authority. There, grouped at a massive table, the half-dozen leading merchants held gloomy converse with the arbiter of the town's problems. At every sudden sound—even the abrupt yelp of a kicked dog—these men started as if at a volley of rifle-shots.
Up in the nameless caño at the westward, the floating serpent swam steadily, though slowly, with a rhythmic dull cadence of pulsing paddles. Every hollowed segment of its loose-jointed back was crammed with men; men with stolid faces, peering slit-eyed through clouds of mosquitoes as they plied their broad blades; men with visages saturnine, satirical, sinister; men with expressions reckless, humorous, vivacious, or coldly predacious, or heavily brutal. Between their feet lay rifles, ranging in make from clumsy single-shot bush guns to heavy-barreled repeaters, and from these to high-powered European military arms. Around their hips or over their chests looped belts or bandoleers of cartridges; and at their waists jutted hilts of poniards or machetes. No idly gliding snake was this, but one advancing with grim purpose. And, though traversing swamp-lands inhabited only by smaller snakes, fierce beasts, silent birds, and skulking human outcasts, it moved with eyes alert and fangs ready to strike.
Under the faded awning of the motor launch lounged three men and a maid, watching the endless echelon of yellow waves and the monotonous clay banks topped by unvarying verdure. Of these four, only one was native born: a leathery-cheeked, crafty-eyed fellow, loose-garmented, alpargata-shod, and unarmed, whose constant study of landmarks and currents marked him as the pilot. The other men, though deeply tanned and garbed in baggy tropical clothing, had features and physique suggesting a more northern clime; the one blond, strong-mouthed, wide-shouldered, tall and lithe, the other florid of skin, gray of eye, and Celtic of lineament, with the powerful build of a heavyweight fighter. Dissimilar, yet potentially dangerous, these two, as a tiger and a bull. The tiger, however, was crippled, his left arm hanging useless in a sling. Yet the sinewy right hand which occasionally caressed the butt of a long revolver at his thigh betokened readiness to meet any human menace, and the blue eyes glancing along the shores now and again showed a glint of steel. His broader mate was likewise armed; and near at hand leaned a pair of big-bored repeaters. The girl, clad in mannish blouse, trim riding breeches, and natty boots, seemed more boy than woman. Her small chin was firm, her dark eyes direct and steady, her poise cool, capable, and confident. Judging from her manner, one might have said that she was as much at home here as her sun-branded companions. But both her Northern clothing and her rose-flushed skin, only lightly burned, proved her to be a newcomer.
Save for the swash of divided waves, the drone of the engine, the muffled panting of the exhaust, and an occasional grunt from the pilot, lazy silence reigned aboard and about the launch. Shaded by the heavy top and fanned by the lusty wind, the voyagers rode in quiescent comfort. Nowhere in all the broad vista beyond them rose any sail, any steamer-smoke, or even the low-riding dots betokening men in a canoe. All the river seemed their own. Yet all four watched constantly ahead—the girl as if awaiting the appearance of some destination, the men as if long habituated to wary vigilance.