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was sly; he was as bad as Rodriguez, or worse, but he was the sort of man who gets what he wants by lying, cheating, and letting others stand in his place if any danger has to be faced.

      Rodriguez had more courage, though none too much; he could bluster and drive men who seemed unlikely to turn on him, but if he had to meet an enemy he would rather shoot him from behind than fight him face to face. He and his chief had gotten along with the Maquiritares of this river because the Indians were paid something, though very little, in trade goods by Rivero, and because they cared nothing for Ramón's loud talk so long as he did nothing worse than talk.

      But a loud mouth deceives some people into thinking a man far more bold and reckless than he is; and these mestizos of mine were a little troubled about carrying me up to seize Rivera's grounds when they knew Rodriguez was likely to see them do it. To tell all San Fernando about it afterward would be one thing, but to face Rodriguez on the Cunucunuma was another.

      I snorted at the idea of any one fearing that man, but I was none too well pleased to find him or any other outsider here; for I had amused myself so much with the thought of fooling every one that I hated to see my joke spoiled.

      "How is that?" I demanded. "This is not the rubber season."

      "He is here," was the answer. "We heard he had a woman here, and he came up a week before us."

      "A woman! On the Cunucunuma? What sort of woman?"

      "A young one. A light Indian. He told about her when he was drunk at San Fernando. He has come back to her."

      "A Maquiritare?"

      "Si."

      "If that is so," I laughed. "I will take her away from him. Vamos!"

      So we went on. And as we went, I chuckled and scowled by turns. Rodriguez was a drunken liar and the San Fernando rum-drinkers believed him, I would tell myself.

      But then again, I was not so sure. If Rodriguez really was up there and making bold with some Maquiritare woman, trouble was likely to be in the air; and when it came it would break like one of those up- Orinoco thunderstorms, sudden and dangerous. I had not lived so long among the Maquiritares without knowing how they felt about their women.

      Two days up the river I suddenly became sure that Rodriguez was on the Cunucunuma. It was nearly noon, and we had passed through a bad raudal and were poling quietly along smooth water, when we smelt smoke. Then, rounding a big rock, we came on several men just beyond, clustered around a small cooking-fire on the sandy shore. One of them jumped up with a startled curse. He was Rodriguez.

      And among the cotton-shirted figures which remained squatting and staring at us was one without a shirt. It was a woman.

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