Chapter Thirty-Four

The two men found themselves a rock to sit on that was somewhat shaded by the big boulder.

No longer were they enemies. They had shaken hands. They had embraced. They were blood cousins. Right or wrong, they would stick together.

Kirkland had admitted that he had killed three men. But he had also said killing was too good for them. Al had believed him. He would find out the particulars later.

A strange feeling had come over Al. Today, he had gone in search of this man either to kill or capture him; and take him back to Quilali.

Less than an hour ago, he had the rifle trained on the man’s head, and couldn’t pull the trigger. When he was crossing the river, he had slipped, and fallen, breaking the gun; making it worthless.

Adilia had said, “I will pray for you.” ‘She must have been praying mighty hard,’ Al thought. Her prayers had certainly been answered.

The big question now was: Where do we go from here?

Al broke the silence. “John, we’ve got problems. You are a wanted man, and I will be an outlaw when the judge finds out we have joined forces. That rascal has my passport and my traveler checks. We must find some way out of here.”

Kirkland took off the big white had and wiped his forehead.

Al stared in disbelief. The man’s forehead was as smooth as his own! There was no scar. He must have the wrong man!

“Do you have a twin brother?” Al’s voice was hoarse. “You are not the man I have been looking for. The guy I am supposed to bring back to Quilali had a big scar on his forehead.”

“You are probably referring to my brother. He had a big scar right here.” Kirkland traced his fore finger across his brow. “He is the black sheep of the family.’

“Where is he now?’

“Dead,” said Kirkland. “He was here just before you came. I tried to get him to give himself up to the law. He laughed at me. He dove into the water and tried to swim the river. He didn’t make it, he went over the falls.”

Al had a feeling that John Kirkland was pulling his leg. All this didn’t quite add up. Just a moment ago, this man had admitted to killing three men.

“Would you mind repeating that?” A faint smile came to Al’s face. “And this time, no B.S.”

Kirkland grinned. “I think I had you fooled for a minute. All right, how does this sound? I am the guy with the scar, but today, I am not wearing it. Does that make more sense?”

“No, but go on with your story.”

“It’s and old trick I learned from the Indians. They paint scars on their body to make it appear that they have been in many battles. I painted this one on me, just before I went after those three rats.”

“But why, John, why?”

“The answer is very simple. It was sort of a disguise. In case anyone got a good look at me, they would remember the scar. You were looking for a big man with long black hair and a scar on his face, weren’t you?”

“I sure as hell was.”

“Now, all I need is to get my hair cut short, and no one will ever take me for the scar-faced killer.”

Al nodded. “Right you are. It looks like you have a perfect alibi, cousin John. Adilia has a pair of scissors; I can cut your hair…but what about me? How the devil am I going to square myself with that cock-eyed Judge?”

John Kirkland smiled. “You have a witness that saw him go over the falls. No one could survive the crash of landing in those boulders below. By now, the body is probably well on it’s way to the sea.”

“Cousin John, you are a genius. If we could get the judge to swallow that story, we would both be home free.”

“It’s worth a try, he can’t disprove it.”

Al laughed. “Let’s get going, we’ll try out the yarn on my crew. If it works, we’ll head for the judge.”

Chapter Thirty-Three

Getting through the outer mat of vines without a machete would have been next to impossible. Al started hacking away. In a few minutes he was through the outer wall.

The jungle was not so dense once inside. Al looked about searching for a trail. There was none, but there were many small paths that seemed to go in every direction. One of them seemed to be going parallel to the river. He got on it and started with a fast walk. Just ahead was some thick brush and bushes. It looked like there was plenty of room to get through the foliage. Al ducked his head and started making his way between the brush. One of the branches seemed to reach out and grab him by the sleeve of his shirt. He gave it a yank. Another came down and took hold of his back. He tried to push forward. This brought down more small arms covered with barbs that looked like fishhooks. The plants refused to let go.

Al swore under his breath. He took the machete and started cutting himself loose. His shirt was badly torn and his arms and back were scratched and bleeding by the time he got through this barrier.

Just ahead of him was a small open space. He had wasted valuable minutes back there; he would make up for it. He had the rifle in his left hand, the machete in his right and took off on the run.

A creeping vine caught the toe of his shoe and he went sprawling. The machete flew from his hand. He tried to break his fall and hang onto the rifle. He must protect the rifle!

He staggered forward. His legs felt tired; his back was on fire, and his throat was dry. He must have water! Suddenly he remembered the warning of Nocho. “Do not fight the jungle. If you do you will not win.”

This had been good advice but he hadn’t taken it! He had been fighting a losing battle. If he kept on this way he would never make it. He had better slow down!

There was a fallen log just ahead. He sat down, breathing hard, and looked at his watch. He had been gone a half-hour. He wondered if he had passed the bend in the river. He slowly got to his feet. “Take it easy.” He told himself. He looked around at the many small trails. There didn’t seem to be as many of them now. A lot of them had come together making one, which was larger then the rest. The large trail seemed to be going in the right direction, so he began following it.

It was getting wider, and on the trail were many animal tracks. For sure now it was an animal trail. It would take him to some definite spot. He hoped it would be the river, and water.

He was moving much slower now, but making better time. The trail suddenly took a sharp turn and went down a steep incline. He slid down it and almost went tumbling into the water.

It was a beautiful sight. He quenched his thirst and washed himself. In a few minutes he felt quite refreshed. He would rest a few moments and then be on his way.

It would help if he knew exactly where he was. He took the machete and chopped a hole through the hanging vines. One quick look told him that he had passed the bend in the river. Up ahead, about a quarter mile, was the waterfall!

He picked up the rifle and once more was on his way. This time he was determined to take his time. He had almost lost the battle back there. It would not happen again.

The animal trail continued following the contour of the river. Now he was making much better time. He passed through a big open meadow. He could no longer find the trail, but he could hear the sound of the waterfall. He had made it!

He followed the sound. It was getting louder. Now he was very close. He must get above the falls! He kept going. He came to a small trail that looked like it would take him to the river. He got on it and followed it through the bushes. Now the sound of the water was in back of him. He was above the falls.

Here the ground seemed to be solid rock. There was not much foliage. He followed the trail to the edge of the canyon and stopped. There were some bushes just ahead of him. He moved cautiously toward them and took a fast look. He could see the river below.

Their boat was not in sight. They probably had not yet reached the bend in the river. He got down on his hands and knees and crawled over close to the rim. Now he could see the falls. He was just above them and could plainly see the trail going up the other side of the river. And he could see something else! Where the trail left the river was a small flat bottom boat. It had been drug up on the bank behind some bushes, out of sight from anyone coming up the river in a boat.

Somewhere on the other side of the river was the scar-faced killer. When the boat was close enough he would open fire. Al shuddered. It was the perfect place for an ambush all right. Nocho had certainly figured everything correctly.

A fire was beginning to burn inside Al. It was his gun that the man intended to use, his gun and his ammunition. Also, the dirty rat was wearing his boots!

He was probably hiding in the rocks above. Al backed away. A little bit farther up the river might give him better view of his hiding place. He backed up away from the rim. Then crawled forward to where there was a clump of tall grass twenty feet above. He took a quick look. He could get a better view, but he needed better cover. About ten feet farther were more bushes. Al crawled on his belly until he was behind them. One of them was quite tall. He stood up behind it.

His first thoughts were of Adilia and his friends. He parted the leafy branches in front of him and looked down the river. The boat was just coming around the bend. He had told them not to come too close.

Now he could get a much better view of the rocky beach across the river. There were several big boulders that a man could easily hide behind. But he could see no one. Al tried to put himself in his place. If he were going to ambush a party, which rock would he hide behind? How about that big one in front? It would not only give good cover but also there would be nothing in the way when the fireworks started.

He took another look at the boat. At this distance it was hard to tell how many people were in it. He couldn’t determine how many and he hoped the scar-faced killer would take for granted all four of them were there. If the boat came close enough he would be able to see there were only three people. Al would sure keep a sharp lookout over his shoulder!

And another thing, if he were waiting for that boat he would certainly stand up and take a look once and a while, and make sure everything was ready for the slaughter.

The distance across the canyon was a hundred yards. The gun in his hands would be right on target at that distance. A slight breeze was blowing down the canyon. He figured the bullet could drift about two inches. If the man rose up he would be looking down the river. Al would aim at the back of the head. The bullet would strike two inches forward and he had to make sure there would be another on the way. He would never hear the shot! There would be no pain and the big hunt would be finished.

Then, suddenly, Al could see the man! He had just stood up behind the big rock and his eyes were on the boat coming up the river. He stood there with his arms folded in front of him. The big white hat pulled low to shield his eyes from the sun.

It was him all right. He was a big man and was wearing a blue shirt. But where was the gun? Probably leaning against the rock. His quarry was not yet in rifle range.

The stock of the rifle was at Al’s cheek; the safety was off. The sights were exactly where he wanted them, his finger curled around the trigger. Less than an ounce of pressure and it would be finished. He could almost hear the report of the rifle, but it did not come. Like a man on a high pole afraid to jump his finger was frozen stiff. It refused to pull the trigger!

He lowered the barrel; his hands were trembling. Good god! He couldn’t kill the man in cold blood! He was standing there without a weapon! Al cursed himself. What difference did it make whether or not the guy had a gun in his hand? He had killed before and was ready to kill again. When the boat got close enough he would open up with that semi-automatic and kill them all.

He remembered just a few days ago when Nocho had called the turkey up in the clearing. He had almost let the bird get away. Now the same thing was happening again. Only this time he was letting a killer escape! What had come over him?

Once more he raised his rifle, but he was too late. The big white hat had disappeared behind a ledge of rocks. A feeling of horror swept over Al. He had his chance and he failed. If his friends were to die now their blood would be on his hands.

For several minutes he laid there his eyes glued to the big rock wondering what to do. Probably from where the killer was lying or sitting he could keep an eye on the boat. When it was close enough he would raise up and open fire.

Al knew he must do something, and do it fast. He glanced up the river. Several hundred feet above him it was quite wide. Several big rocks were sticking up through the water, which seemed to indicate it was not very deep. If he were only across the river, he might have had a chance. He could come up from behind and get the drop on him. That seemed to be his only way.

Al threw caution to the wind and raced up the sandy beach until he was out of breath. Then, behind a big rock, he stopped for a moment.   The river was a hundred feet wide, and didn’t appear to be very deep. The water was clear and was running quite fast. It looked to Al that with a little luck he would be able to wade across. He stepped into the water and was on his way.

The water kept pushing him downstream. First it was up to his waist, then to his arms, and then to his neck. He dropped the machete and held the gun high above his head, and kept going.

Then the bottom began to slope upward. The water was at his waist, then his knees. He was almost to the bank when he stepped on a flat rock covered with moss. It was very slick. One foot shot out from under him. He tried desperately to regain his balance. He threw the rifle at the bank to save it. His hands went automatically behind him to break the fall. He hit the water with a loud splash.

He rolled over, got to his feet, and headed for the bank. He picked up the gun and examined it. It had landed in a pile of rocks. He had better make sure it was all right. He removed the clip and tried to eject the shell from the barrel. He gave the slide lever a pull. It came back part way and froze. When it hit the rocks, it had bent the working parts. The gun was worthless, at least for today.

Al sat down on a rock with the gun in his hands. He felt like his whole world had been pulled from under him. A hundred yards below, a man was waiting with a loaded automatic. What could he do with a broken gun?

He had told Nocho not to get in rifle range of the falls. They would probably stop a couple of hundred yards below them. The killer might grow restless, go down the trail, and take them by surprise.

He must do something, and do it fast. The man down there in the rocks didn’t know the gun was worthless. Maybe he could get the drop on him, run a bluff. Maybe he would surrender. This was his only hope.

He would crawl through the grass like he had done many times while duck hunting with the idea to sneak up on him! He would belt him over the head. He started crawling through the tall grass.

The ground was covered with small broken rocks, some of them razor sharp. Blood was running from his elbows and knees, but he kept going. The sun was burning his back to a blister. He kept on going. And now he was getting closer, much closer.

There was a big clump of grass just ahead. He would stop and take a quick look. To his surprise, the big rock was very close, about fifty feet to his right. Just to the left of this big one was another about half its size. They were about four feet apart. A dense growth of bushes was blocking the entrance between them.

Al was certain that there was where the man had disappeared. Between those two rocks, he would find him!

What would be his best move now? The dense growth of bushes on this side would be difficult to go through. To go around and come in from the front would be certain death!

The closest rock had a lone sloping surface on this side. It looked like he might be able to climb to the top of it. At least it would be worth a try. Once more, he was crawling in that direction.

Now he was to the rock, the only thing between him and the killer. He looked it over carefully. It was rough and had many crevices. It would be easy to climb.

He wiped the sweat off his forehead, and with the gun in one hand, began to climb. In less than a minute he was on top.

A few feet farther ahead and down was the scar-faced killer. What should he do now? He could drop down and start swinging the rifle like a baseball bat, but suppose the killer was to move a little? He would hear the noise and he would be ready.

Al licked his dry lips. There was only one way. Run a bluff. Try and get him to surrender. If he wouldn’t, throw the gun at him and come crashing down. With the gun in front of him, he moved forward. Just another foot, before he looked down.

The man was standing there looking down the river. He was very calmly eating a banana. The rifle was not in his hands. It was leaning against the rock, several feet back of him.

Al pointed the gun at his head and spoke. “Don’t move, or you are a dead man.”

The man froze.

“Turn your head very slowly, and look this way.”

The man did as he was told.

Al knew the fellow was looking up the center of the rifle barrel.

“Now turn half way around. Look down the river. Put your hands above your head and keep them there, or I will blow it off your shoulders!”

The man’s hands were in the air. Once again, he was facing the river below.

Al wanted the man a little farther from the rifle below. Then he would come sliding down, and get it in his hands.

“Move!” He shouted. “Or I’ll blow your brains out!”

The man took a few steps, then very slowly, he turned facing Al. There was a faint smile on his face. He spoke.

“Put the gun down Al. You are not going to kill me. Neither am I going to kill you.”

Al about fell off the rock. Not only had the guy called him by his first name, but he had also spoken in perfect English. Al shook his head as though to clear it. Was the heat getting to him? His voice sounded strange and far away. “Just who the hell are you?”

The big man did not hesitate. “My name is John Kirkland Junior. I was not waiting here to kill you, only to welcome you.”

Al could not believe his own ears. Surely this was a trick. It must be a trick! He had better keep on his toes! He slid down the rock and landed beside the gun. Quickly, he exchanged the broken one for the one leaning against the rock. A quick look told him it was loaded and ready to go.

Someone had probably told this fellow that he had been asking about John Kirkland. Somehow he had found out. Well there was one way that he, himself could settle this.

With his left hand, he drew out his pocketbook. It was wet and soggy. He pulled out the picture of John Kirkland and handed it to the man. It was wet but still clear enough.

“Who is this man?” Al demanded.

The man took one look at the picture, then handed it back.

“That,” he said, “is a picture of my father. Is this the one Mister Young gave you in Managua?”

Al was speechless. He nodded dumbly.

“Anything else you would like to know?”

“Maybe you are John Kirkland, but you are also a wanted killer. Three times you have killed, maybe more. What have you got to say about that?”

The man nodded. “Yes, I killed three men; if you could call them men. You would have done the same thing if you knew them7. Killing was too good for them.”

Al still had the gun pointed at the man’s heart.

“How did you know my name?”

The man reached in his shirt pocket and pulled out a thin piece of paper about six square inches. He handed it to Al.

“This is a message I received from Young. Would you care to read it? It says you were coming to Quilali to look for my father. It came all the way by carrier pigeon. We use them a lot here.”

Al let the paper flutter to the ground. The rifle was stead in his hands. Kirkland or not, he was wanted by the law. He must take him back to Quilali.

“I have orders to bring you back for the trial. I hope you come peacefully.”

“Suppose I refuse?”

“Then I will take you, one way or the other.”

The big man nodded slowly. “My father has told me many stories about your father. You must be a lot like him. I have heard about the sentence that the judge passed on you, and I can see the position it puts you in. However, I don’t think that you would shoot your own cousin.”

Al almost dropped the rifle. “Cousin! Did you say cousin?”

“Your father and mine married sisters. That makes us cousins, doesn’t it?”

Al’s mind was in a whirl. He didn’t want to shoot anyone, least of all a blood relative. He had traveled thousands of miles so get here, hoping to find some relatives. Now that he had found one, would he kill him, even if he were a wanted killer? Hell no! However, what about the man in front of him? Was he to be trusted? Well, there was only one way to find out.

The gun with the jimmied bolt was leaning against the rock. The man didn’t know it was broken. Al picked it up by the barrel and handed it to the man in front of him. He stepped back a couple of steps and leaned the other rifle against the rock.

“No, I couldn’t shoot you…not unless you tried to kill me first. So make up your mind.”

The man stood there for a second; looking at the gun in his hands, then up at Al, who was apparently at his mercy. Slowly, he turned around and threw the gun to the rocks below.

He turned around and faced Al, who was walking toward him with a big smile on his face.

John Kirkland grinned, and hurried to meet him halfway.

Chapter Thirty Two

At last dawn was breaking. It had been a long night and there had been no disturbances. The water bucket was still setting on the rock, the line stretched tight. Everyone got out of bed and pulled on their shoes. Other then shoes, they had gone to bed fully clothed. They had been ready for the scar-faced killer.

At the trading post they had bought some eggs and smoke cured ham. They had ham and eggs for breakfast, and a pot of steaming black coffee.

The sun had not yet come up when they were once more floating down the river. The current was quite slow. The river was deep and wide. The men took turns at the oars to speed up their progress.

About an hour passed. Just ahead of them on the north was a big canyon. Down this flowed another river, said Nocho.

They paddled over closer to the north bank and drifted slowly down the stream. Dense growth obstructed their vision. It was impossible to see through it.

“There is a passage through there somewhere,” said Nocho. “Keep your eyes open.”

They drifted on; soon the canyon was behind them. They had missed it. They turned the boat around and started back. Going very slow and inspecting every foot of green wall. Suddenly Pio was pointing up and across the river. “Look! A boat!”

All eyes turned in that direction. Sure enough there was a big one. It was coming down the river. Pio took hold of a vine and stopped the boat. Al picked up the rifle and waited. As the boat drew nearer they could see that that it was quite a large craft, and in it were six people. It surely wasn’t the man for whom they were looking. The boat passed on by.

Once more they were looking for that opening. There seemed to be a slight current coming from under the vines. Then Nocho was pointing. “Look there it is!”

Just ahead was a small opening, just big enough for the boat to pass through. Pio and Nocho picked up the paddles and in a few seconds they were through the dense foliage. They had come out in the middle of the channel. The river was wide at this point and looked quite deep. To the right of them was a wide sandy beach. Al told them to pull over there.

He jumped out, his rifle ready. He could see no one, neither was there a boat in sight. Pio and Nocho dragged their outfit out of the water and begin looking around for wood to build a fire. Adilia started making some sandwiches.

Al was watching Nocho as he walked up the beach. Every few steps he would stop and look around and sniff the air. Suddenly he stopped and looked down at the ground. He turned around and motioned for Al to come to him.

Al moved slowly as he walked up the sandy beach, his eyes searching for anything that might move. In seconds he was standing beside Nocho who was pointing down to the sand. There were fresh prints of hobnail boots! His boots!

Once more Nocho was sniffing the air. “Smoke. I smell smoke.” Suddenly he pointed, “There.” A few more yards up the beach were several stones arranged in a small circle. Some charred wood was in the center; smoke came curling up.

“He was here only minutes ago,” said Nocho. “He has probably gone up the river.”

Here there were lots of boot tracks. Also they could see where he had drug the boat ashore and put it back in again. There was only one way the man could have gone, and that was up river.

They could see up stream for a quarter mile. He must have gone around the bend. The boat was nowhere in sight.

“He will go to the falls.” Said Nocho. “Beyond the bend in the river are falls, like the ones on the Coco, only smaller.”

“Then he must pull his boat up a trail to get above the falls?”

“Yes and quite a ways above. There are many big rocks in the river.”

“Then it would be a good place for an ambush?”

“Perfect! Many years ago we prospected this river for gold. I have been back and forth on that trail many times.”

“Which side of the river do you take the boat over the falls?”

“This side. There is also a trail going up on this side of the river.”

“How about the other side?”

Nocho shook his head. “When I was here before there was none. There would be no need for a trail on both sides.”

“Then we have a choice of going up the river in the boat or the trail on this side. Either way he will have us covered, isn’t that correct?”

Nocho nodded. “If only there was another way.”

“The guy is waiting there for sure. I would bet my last dollar on that! He left the trading post one full day ahead of us. If he were trying to escape he would be long gone, don’t you think so?”

“He has been here for a full day waiting. Why else would he be here?”

“He knows we are after him and he has picked a perfect spot to make a stand. And do you know something? I am sort of glad. One way or another it will soon be done.”

“I know what you mean man.”

“Lets go back to the boat and see if we can come up with a bright idea?”

They walked back to where they had beached the boat. Pio had a small fire going, Adilia had made some sandwiches. She walked up to Al, her eyes wide and bright. “What did you find?”

“He left here only minutes before we arrived. No doubt he heard us coming and pulled out just ahead of us. Nocho says there is a waterfall in the river beyond the bend; a perfect place for an ambush. We figure he is waiting there.”

“Oh darling! You must be very careful! Don’t be in a hurry!”

“I won’t sweetheart. But I think the time has come for me to take action. How about a cup of coffee? We are going to sit down and see if we can come up with a plan.”

They put their bedrolls on the ground and sat down.

Al closed his eyes trying to think clearly. The scar-faced killer had all the advantages. He was now in his own territory and probably knew this part of the country like the palm of his hand. He had a deadly little rifle and probably was an expert when it came to using it.

If there was only some way to get above the guy so that they could come up behind him and take him by surprise? What about getting up on the other side of the river? Was it possible to go up on that side even if there wasn’t a trail? He would get Nocho’s opinion.

“Are you sure there is no trail on the other side of the river?”

“I cannot be sure, but I would guess no. However I am sure there will be many animal trails. They wander up and down the river and come there to drink.”

“What’s the matter with walking up an animal trail?”

Nocho Smiled. “It isn’t as easy as it sounds. Animals squeeze through very narrow places. There will be low hanging vines and bushes with thorns that will tear you to pieces. Also there are many poisonous snakes and wild pigs, not to mention El Tigre.”

Al nodded, “Sounds like a winner. He probably won’t be expecting a guy from Arizona to come that way. So the sooner I get started the better. I can see no other way, can you?”

Nocho shook his head. “I guess it is the only way. I will go with you.”

AL shook his head. “Thanks pal, but this I must do by myself. But, before I leave, there are a number of questions I would like to ask you. How far above the bend in the river are the falls?”

“The bend in the river is about half way.”

“How do I know when I come to the falls?”

“Listen for the roar of the falling water.”

“What should I take besides my rifle?”

“By all means take the machete. You would never make it without it.”

“Anymore good advice?”

“Yes, take it easy. Do not fight the jungle, if you do, you will not win. Don’t forget that!”

For several minutes the two men made the final plans. Once again, Nocho proved his worth.

Al gave them final instructions. “Give me about thirty minutes start on you. Then all of you get into the boat and paddle slowly up river. Take your time. Don’t get in a hurry. When you pass the bend in the river he will be able to see you. At that distance he won’t be able to count the number of people in the boat. We want him to think we are all there. Keep going back and forth across the river, this will keep him confused I hope. And do not under any condition get within rifle range of the falls!”

Al kissed Adilia tenderly. “I will see you soon sweetheart.”

Here eyes were bright but she did not cry. “I will pray for you.” She said softly. “Do what you must do, I will wait for you.”

Nocho rowed him across the river. He jumped out of the boat, waved them goodbye, and headed for the jungle.

Chapter Thirty-One

Chickens were crowing and dogs were barking. Dawn was breaking. Al opened his eyes. For a moment he lay there, half asleep, listening to these common sounds. Then, somewhere back in the jungle, the chatter of monkeys brought him back to reality.

He glanced at his watch. Seven o’clock. Time to get up and get going. At seven everything started, and everything stopped. Daylight came at seven, and darkness came at seven. A twelve-hour day and a twelve-hour night, year round. There was no such thing as summer and winter here, only the wet season and the dry season. Now, it was the middle of the dry season, the warmest time of the year.

Al wondered what the wet or rainy season was like. If these last few days were a fair sample of the dry months, he didn’t think he would care to go through the wet ones.

They were close on the heels of the killer. They were only one day behind him, and it was not far to the Caribbean Sea. He was somewhere below, and they would find him.

The trader had given Al a better description of the killer. He was wearing a big white hat and a light blue shirt. The boat he was traveling in was not the one he had taken at Quilali. It was a small one-man boat with a flat bottom. He had probably left the stolen one at the falls where he was captured, and then picked up his own.

“This kind of boat,” Nocho had said, “is used in shallow water. From here on down, the Coco is big and wide, and there are several small rivers that empty into it. Perhaps he lives up one of those. Why else would he need a boat of this kind?”

From here on down, they would take it slow and easy, asking everyone they met. Someone would know him and know where to find him.

They would travel light. He would leave Adilia here, where she would be safe. He turned his head and looked down at the girl beside him. Her eyes were big and wide.

Her little arm stole around his neck, and her voice was low and positive. “Darling, if you have any idea of leaving me here, forget it. A woman’s place is by her man. I am going along!”

Their first argument was over before it had even begun.

They got up and dressed, then went to the trading post. Pio and Nocho were already there, drinking coffee. The trader’s wife cooked a big breakfast of tortillas, ham and eggs, with a big pot of strong black coffee, much like the stuff brewed by the Nigger Woman at Quilali.

Al paid the trader and they were ready to go. Several of the people that had attended the party were there. They would help carry the boat and their belongings down the trail.

They bid the trader and his wife good-bye, and promised to stop on their way back to Quilali.

With the help of the people that had come to see them off, they were soon at the bottom of the trail. Once more, the boat was in the water. As they pushed off, Al couldn’t help but think that they must look like a family going on a picnic.

They had told no one why they were looking for this man. No one had asked. Maybe word of the big hunt hadn’t reached down this far. The big storm had stopped the river traffic.

A lot of things could have happened. There could be another revolution going or an earthquake or a volcano blown up. But one thing was certain; that cock-eyed Judge still had Al’s money and his passport, and the sentence was still in effect.

Al swore under his breath, “Damn the Judge! What a hell of a sentence to pass on a guy.” Just because he had been a little bit negligent and left a rifle and a pair of boots unguarded only for a few minutes. Was that a great crime?

For this he had been sentenced, demanded to kill! That’s what it amounted to anyway. The killer knew he was a dead man if he came peacefully. His only chance was to fight, to kill again. He was good at that.

The sun was bearing down, and the day was clear. As usual on the river, the humidity was high. Sweat dripped from their foreheads.

Ahead of them, on a gravel bar, were a couple of men working to shovel gravel into a sluice box.

Nocho pointed at them. “They are miners, digging for gold. Should we talk to them?”

Al nodded. “Pull into the sandy bank. You go and see them. Nocho; you are a miner and speak their language. Find out what you can.”

They pulled in close, and Nocho waded ashore. For several minutes, he talked to them. Al could see them nodding their heads and pointing down the river.

Nocho came back, grinning his toothless grin. He climbed into the boat. “These men do not know him, but they have seen him many times. Only yesterday he passed by here going down the river.”

They pushed the boat away from the gravel bar. They were floating down the river once more. There was no doubt now that every minute, they were getting closer to their quarry.

Ahead of them, on the right, looked like a deep canyon. Perhaps there was a small river coming down this one. Al took a look at the map. All it showed was the Coco, winding its way toward the sea. The guy that had made this map had probably had only used his imagination. Very few people other than the natives had ever been here. This was disputed territory, and could also be called No-Man’s Land. ‘That would be a better name for it,’ Al thought.

They pulled into the mouth of the canyon. There was a big stream coming down it, but it was full of big boulders, and too shallow for any boat to navigate. The water from the stream looked cool and inviting. They pulled the boat ashore to have lunch and get some exercise.

There was a small trail going up the canyon. Nocho took one look at it, then without a word followed it into the jungle. Al and Pio started gathering firewood. A cup of coffee would taste mighty fine. Adilia started making sandwiches.

“Where did Nocho go?” Al asked.

“He took off up that trail,” said Pio. “I think he is up to something.”

The old man was gone only a few minutes. When he returned there was a big smile on his face. “I know exactly where we are. I have been here previously. It was a long time ago and I was not sure until I walked up the canyon. Come, I will show you.”

They followed him up the winding trail. It went through some thick under brush then out into an open meadow. The stream ran to one side of the meadow, close to a rocky cliff. It was to this cliff that Nocho took them.

“Look,” he pointed at the rocky face of the canyon. They probably would not have noticed if he had not drawn their attention. There, on the rocks, dark with age, were many paintings; also carvings of human faces and many animals. No doubt it was the work of some ancient tribe of Indians.

“This is why I came up here,” said Nocho. “If this were not here I would know that my memory was playing tricks on me. But now I am sure. I can tell you a lot about this country right in this area. I prospected for gold right here some fifty years ago. It has been so long ago that I had almost forgotten. Now it all comes back to me.

They left the paintings and walked back to the fire. Nocho set down on the edge of the boat. The rest of the group gathered close to listen to what he had to say.

“I wasn’t much more then a kid then. I was living in the city. Times were tough. It was hard to make a living. I had a friend that had an uncle that was a prospector. Someone told him that there was a lot of gold in this area. We came here and stayed for a year. I guess I have prospected about every stream in the country since then, so many that they all seem alike any more. But I will never forget the paintings on the rocks. We were camped right here.”

What else do you remember?” Al asked. “Do you recall anything that might be helpful?”

Nocho Nodded. “Yes and I think I know were to find your man.” He picked up a stick and drew a mark in the sand, “This is the Coco. We are right here.” He put an X on the spot. “On down the river about two hours by boat another river comes in from the north. A small flat bottom boat will navigate this one. Such a boat belongs to the man for whom you are looking.”

“That sounds reasonable, what do you suggest?”

“We will stay here tonight. In the morning we will get an early start. Then we will be fresh and alert when we get there. Do you agree with me?”

Al nodded. “I certainly do. We will need all our faculties, that’s for sure.”

“Besides,” Nocho grinned. “Where this streams joins the Coco the fishing is great. By the way, isn’t today Friday?”

Al looked at Pio. Pio’s eyes roved around in search of Adilia. Adilia suddenly went in search of some wood. Al grinned; no one here knew the day of the week. He turned to Nocho.

“It’s Friday alright. Go ahead and get a good mess of fish. We will have the sandwiches for tomorrow. By the way my friend, do you have an extra line with you?”

“Do you wish to go fishing?”

“No I have something else in mind.”

Nocho opened a leather folder. In it were numerous hooks, lines, and leaders. “Help yourself.” He said.

Al selected a spool of nylon line. “This will do just fine. You can have it back in the morning.”

Nocho took his fishing gear and headed for the river. Pio was curious. “What are you going to do with the fish line?”

“I have an idea and you can help me work it out. We are close n the heels of our man. Nocho thinks he lives somewhere up the river, which is only a couple of hours from here. Maybe this guy is getting tired of us following him. He might come up the river tonight.”

“I know what you mean. I have been thinking the same thing. One of us had better stand guard all night.”

“Better then missing sleep, lets put this line to work.”

The plan was a simple one. Al explained to Pio. “We will figure out where were going to sleep. We will string up our hammocks and fill them with dummies. We will rake up a lot of dry leaves to make a soft bed on the ground. Around all this we will stretch the line about a foot off the ground completely around us. Where the line comes together we will tie them to our pots and pans.”

“A great idea lets get busy. Where do we start?”

“There are trees, bushes, and boulders just above us. Why not there? We will get Adilia to help us.”

In about an hour’s time they were finished. The hammocks were hung in the trees. The beds were made behind some thick bushes. The nylon line was stretched completely around the perimeter about a foot above the ground. Where the lines came together was a big round rock about five feet high. They tied the ends of the lines to the water bucket, which contained several tin cups and plates. Al set it down very carefully on the sloping surface. Any small yank should bring it tumbling down to the ground.

Hi grinned, “I guess were finished. I sure can’t see why it won’t work. Maybe we should try it out? Who would like to be the one to trigger it?”

There was a big grin on Pio’s face. “Here comes Nocho with a big string of fish. Let’s just step over by the hammocks and wait for him.”

They stepped carefully over the line and walked over close to the hammocks. Nocho was approaching rapidly, and as usual, was wearing his toothless grin. He was a few feet from them when… Crash! Bang! The bucket and contents came tumbling down! Nocho dropped the fish; the pistol was in his hand. For a moment he stood there bent over in a crouch glaring at the big rock.

He reminded Al of an oil painting he had seen at the big art show in Prescott, Arizona. As he recalled, the name of the painting was, “The Gun Fighter.” There was one thing for certain; the alarm system was working perfectly.

Chapter Thirty

There was activity at the trading post when they returned. The trader and his wife were busy getting ready for the wedding party. Pio and Nocho were helping. Several display tables were moved back, making more room in front, close to the bar. From out of the pile of junk the trader brought an old phonograph and a stack of records. They would have a dance.

“It plays real good and loud,” said the trader. “The spring is broken and one must keep turning the crank to keep it going. We can take turns doing that.”

Al thought it was time for a drink and get the party going!

“You said you had some rum, what kind is it?” He addressed the trader.

“The best kind.” He produced a bottle and handed it to Al. “Flor De Cana,” he said, “flower of the cane. You never get bugs in your belly, or have a hangover when you drink Flor De Cana.” He handed Al a glass. “Pour yourself a drink.
Try it.”

Al poured about a quarter of an inch in the glass. It smelled good. He tossed it down and stood there for a moment looking down the bottle.

“Very good, is it not?” Asked the trader.

Al licked his lips. “Very good I would say. Put this on my bill and give us all a good drink.

“I will make a Nica Iebra.” Said the trader. “It is a very fine drink.”

It was starting to get dark. The trader’s wife lit several coal oil lamps and placed them where they would do the most good.

“What time will the guests arrive?” Al asked.

“As soon as they hear the music, they will come.”

Al turned to the trader’s boy who was standing close by eating a banana. “Do you know how to operate that darn thing?”

“Yes sire, I know how.”

The kid turned his attention back to the banana. Al thought and got the idea. He took out his pocketbook and pulled out a five Cordoba note. He handed it to the kid. Evidently this is what the kid had been wanting. He threw away the banana peel and headed for the phonograph.

As the trader predicted, the guests began to arrive. It was quite a formal affair. The trader’s wife was a perfect hostess. She introduced the newlyweds to everyone as they came inside.

The trader was busy pouring drinks out of Al’s bottle; soon it was empty. The trader waved the empty bottle at Al. He nodded his head. The trader reached for a full one. A half hour and two quarts later everyone was dancing. There was hardly standing room as the place was packed.

Of course Al and Adilia were the center of attraction. Al danced with most of the women. The men stood in line waiting their turn to dance with Adilia. These people certainly knew how to celebrate, Al thought. Occasions like this was their main source of entertainment. He didn’t know what to expect next. But as usual the traders’ wife was on the ball and took charge.

The next thing on the program was food. The men were all told to be seated. The women would serve.

Al noticed that most everyone had brought something to the dance with them. Now he could see it was food for the occasion. A special seat was made for the guests of honor. Plates piled high with food were served to everyone.

Al and Adilia were hungry. They had lunched on the roast turkey several times earlier today, but it had been hours since they had eaten. Everything tasted good; even iguana pie.

When the meal was over the women cleaned up the tables. Al thought the party was over but he was mistaken. Many wrapped packages were set on the table in front of them. The trader’s wife smiled at them. “Open them, they are all yours.”

With the opening of each package, the pile of baby clothes in front of them grew higher and higher. Al wondered if Pio and Nocho told everyone they intended to raise fifty kids!

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Al shaved and put on a clean shirt. Pio and Nocho washed and combed their hair, and the three of them headed for the trading post.

The room was deserted, except for the trader and one beautiful young lady.

Her long black hair was wound around the top of her head, held tight with what appeared to be diamond studded combs. The long earrings dangled to her shoulders. She wore a low-cut red dress trimmed in white lace. On her feet was a dainty pair of slippers.

Al stared in amazement. There stood the most beautiful girl in the world! Adilia!

Somehow, she looked taller, and the gentle curves of her lovely body appeared more feminine. The touch of makeup on her face seemed to make her bloom like a rose.

Al stepped up and took her in his arms. “Where in the world? How in the dickens did you get all this? Who fixed your hair?”

“Not so fast,” laughed the girl. “I bought it from the traders wife. She fixed my hair. She is very nice. Do you like this?”

“Beautiful, beautiful! Now we shall have a party. We will celebrate our wedding, that’s it! We will have a wedding party.”

“Oh, Al, that sounds so wonderful. I told the trader’s wife we were just married, and tonight we might have a little celebration. She said that would be very nice. She would like to have a word with you.”

“Did she say what she wanted to talk to me about?’

“She didn’t say. But I told her I would tell her when you came inside.”

“Where can I find her?”

Adilia pointed at a door across the room. “Just go knock on that door, she will answer.”

Al kissed her and headed for the door. The woman must have been expecting him as she opened the door on the first knock. She was a plump little woman with a merry smile. Al figured she was probably in her forties.

“Come on in. I have been expecting you.”

Al stepped through the opening. “Why did you want to see me?”

The woman motioned to a chair. “Sit down for a moment and I will tell you.”

Al sat down and looked up at her. “What can I do for you?”

The woman smiled. “She is the most beautiful girl I have ever seen, and she is very nice. She told me that you were married only a few days ago. Tell me, are you really married?”

Al blushed. “We would be married if we could find a preacher.”

“The girl tells me that tonight you will have a wedding party. Is that correct?”

Al was beginning to feel uncomfortable. “It sounded like a good idea. I guess we could call it off.”

“By no means,” said the plump little woman. “It is a wonderful idea. However, there is something you must have.” Her eyes twinkled. “Some people are narrow-minded, you know.”

“What is it I must have?”

“A ring, Señor. A ring!”

“And where do I get a ring?”

The woman held out her fist and opened it. Lying in her palm was a small gold band. “Take it Señor, please, take it.”

Al picked up the ring. It was a beauty; hand carved yellow gold. There was no doubt in his mind it would fit Adilia. Al drew out his wallet and opened it.

“Nonononooo.” The woman shook her head. “The ring is a present from my husband and myself. Now everything will be fine. You will have your party.”

“But I must pay you.”

The woman shook her head. “You will need your money. Shall I have the boy spread the word that there will be a wedding party?”

“You bet! And thanks a million.”

Al left the woman and returned to Adilia. This did not seem to be the proper place to present the ring. He took her by the arm.

“Want to go for a short walk?” He asked.

The girl nodded. “That would be nice.”

“And give my friends a drink,” he told the trader. “We will be back in a few minutes.”

They walked down the lakeshore. The sun was slowly sinking behind the jungle. There was a rough bench at the water’s edge, and they sat down on it.

Al slipped an arm around the girl and drew her close. “I love you,” he whispered.

Her little arms were around his neck, pulling her close. “And I love you darling.”

Al kissed her gently, and then moved back. He took the ring from his pocket and held it out between the thumb and forefinger of his right hand. He took her left hand in his and slipped the ring onto the first joint.

Adilia’s eyes were big and round. On her face was a look of wonder.

“Now say this with me,” Al said softly. “With this ring…”

“With this ring…”

“We two do wed.”

“We two do wed.”

Al drew her close. “You may kiss the groom.”

“And you may kiss the bride!”

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Dawn was breaking when the group pushed the boat into the water. Once more, they were floating down the river. The little grass-covered shacks would never be forgotten.

Al had spent a restless night. He could not keep his mind off the scar-faced killer. He had rolled and tossed, as sleep seemed impossible.

Adilia tried to comfort him. She had said, “Why don’t we stay here Al? Nobody will bother us. We will clear a small piece of ground. We will plant corn, beans and rice. There is fish in the river and game in the jungle, and some gold in the gravel bar.” She had drawn herself close to him. “And I will raise you some children. We can be very happy.”

He had kissed her gently. “How many children, darling?”

“Oh, maybe ten, or twelve.”

“Ten or twelve!”

“At least that many, maybe more” she teased.

“That will be plenty, darling.”

And now they were drifting down the river. Al couldn’t see himself spending the rest of his life here on a gravel bar, even if he had this wonderful girl with him. She was all the more reason he should get the hell out of here. She deserved a good life, and he was going to see that she got it.

Nocho and Pio were in the front of the boat with the paddles. They managed to keep it pretty much in the middle of the river, out of rifle range from the back, as much as possible.

Al and Adilia had made themselves comfortable by lying in the bottom, their heads resting on their bedrolls.

Al kept thinking of last night. Ten or twelve kids, she had said. Ten or twelve at least! Well just suppose there were ten, ten kids! Wouldn’t that be something? He kept his eyes closed and tried to imagine what they would look like. Would there be five boys and five girls? No, probably not. It usually didn’t turn out that way. Anyhow, there would be ten kids.

He might have to build a few more rooms. Later, all of them would get married. Each of them would raise a family. In no time at all, they could have at least five each. Their children and grandchildren would all come home on Sunday, The kids would play cowboys and Indians. They would go whooping and hollering around the big house. Let’s see, ten times five is fifty. “Fifty grandchildren!” he shouted.

Adilia sat up, startled. “What did you say?”

Al’s face was dark red. In his mind he had painted a vivid picture. He had let his imagination run away.

“He said fifty grandchildren,” said Nocho.

“Are you planning on raising fifty grandchildren?” asked Pio.

He had better get himself a couple more women if he plans on having so many children and grandchildren.” I knew a guy that had forty kids, he had five women.”

“Forget the fifty grandchildren,” Al growled. “I didn’t say we were going to have fifty kids!”

Adilia smiled sweetly. “We can try, Al darling.”

Al gave her a wolfish grin. “Damn right we can try, every night and every morning. Now everybody shut up and forget about it.” Evidently Al had made his point, the subject was dropped for the rest of the day.

The river was getting very wide, and the current was barely moving. To make better progress, they took turns at the paddles.

“It looks like it’s turning into a lake,” Al remarked.

Nocho nodded. “Yes. Further down, below the lake, the canyon gets very narrow, and there are some very fast rapids in the river.”

Coming into view on the North bank was a village. It consisted of probably forty or fifty bamboo huts with grass roofs. One building was much larger than the rest. It was set off to one side.

Nocho pointed with his finger. “We will go to the trading post.”

They paddled over to the sandy beach and got out. They pulled the boat high on the bank and walked up toward the large building.

If felt good to get up and walk around. They had been in the boat a long time. Al exchanged guns with Nocho. The pistol was better at short range, and the man could be waiting just inside that door.

Al took the lead and stepped inside. ‘When Nocho had called the building the trading post, he had sure given it the right name,’ Al thought. The building was about forty square feet. Tables and benches were scattered around in disarray. On them was piled about everything imaginable. There were fruit and vegetables, bananas, pineapple, coconuts, tomatoes, and many other goods.

One large table was covered with clothing for men. There were hats, shirts, shoes, socks, and many more items. There was yardage goods on another, all cotton and in brilliant colors.

Jaguar skins were tacked on the wall. Cowhides were piled in the corner; some were tanned and some were not. A couple of old broken .22 rifles were leaning against the wall. Everything was for sale or trade.

Off to the right was a bar about twenty feet long, and several small table and chairs were scattered around. This was the dining room.

One quick glance told Al that the scar-faced killer was not here. Several people were in the room. They were mostly women doing their shopping. There were two men at the bar, drinking Pepsi-Cola.

Al stared in amazement. He wondered if it was possible to buy a cold beer. He took Adilia by the arm. They walked over to one of the tables and sat down. Pio and Nocho pulled up a couple of chairs and sat down beside them.

A trader came walking over and stood in front of them. He was short and fat, and had a big black mustache. He gave them a toothy smile.

“Welcome to Little Lake. What can I get you?”

“We are all very thirsty. What do you have to drink that is good and cold?”

“We have Pepsi-Cola, beer and rum, and ice-water…” Al could hardly believe his ears. “Where in the world do you get ice here?”

The trader pointed to the back of the bar. “Señor, if you will look over there, you will see a refrigerator. It came all the way from the United States. It works by burning kerosene. How it does it I do not know, but it is very good. No?”

Al nodded. He couldn’t help but notice that the man had said it was from the United States, not America. The Nigger Woman was a good teacher. He would never forget.

“I’m going to have a cold beer to start. How about the rest of you?”

Pio and Nocho nodded. Adilia ordered Pepsi-Cola. The trader brought the drinks and set them on the table.

“Anything else?” He asked.

“Do you have a couple of cabins we can rent for the night?”

The trader nodded. “Yes, we will get them ready for you.” He walked over to the door, put two fingers in his mouth, and produced a shrill whistle. He walked back inside. “My boy will be here in a moment to help you with your luggage.”

The men took a deep drag from the cold bottles of Victoria. Al thought that surely this was the best beer in the world.

On the far side of the room was the women’s section. Adilia excused herself and went to a long table covered with clothing.

The trader’s boy came inside. He was a cute kid about ten years of age. He would be their helper. Al bought him a bottle of Pepsi, and told him to sit down and enjoy himself. They were in no hurry. Al thought the trader looked dry. He didn’t have to twist his arm to get him to join them in a bottle of beer. He wasn’t the sort of fellow to take a bunch of grass off his own roof!

Al produced the picture Pio had drawn on the board. He handed it to the trader.

“I am looking for this fellow,” Al told him. “Have you seen him lately?” He decided he had better not tell him why he was looking for him, after all, the guy could be a friend of his.

The trader took the picture and studied it for a moment. “A friend of yours?” he asked.

“Could be.”

“There was a fellow that just left here this morning that looked a lot like him. He was here for three days. He came down the river the day it started to rain.”

“Which way did he go?’

“Down the river. Some of my boys helped him carry his boat and bed down the trail. Can’t take a boat over the rapids,” he explained. “It had to be carried about a mile below here.”

“Did you get his name?”

“No, he did not tell me his name nor where he was going, and I am not sure it is the same fellow.”

“How about the big scar above his eye. Did he have a scar there?”

“That’s what puzzles me. This guy always wore a hat pulled down low on his forehead. If there was a scar, I couldn’t see it.”

“What kind of hat was he wearing?”

“A big white one, like that over there.” He pointed to the table with the hats on it.

Al walked over and picked one off the table. “Like this one?”

Al ordered another round, including drinks for the trader and the boy. He handed the picture to Pio.

“Can you put this hat on the guy?” he asked.

Pio grinned. “I will sure try.”

Al walked over to where Adilia was standing. He slipped an arm around her waist. “Find anything you like?”

The girl smiled. “Oh there are so many pretty things. Maybe when we get up to the United States, I can really dress up for you.”

Al looked at the girl beside him. The faded blouse, the worn slacks, the scuffed shoes. Adilia was still the most beautiful girl. Plus Adilia had pride. Naturally, she would like a new dress! What girl wouldn’t! His face began to burn. How stupid could he get! He drew out his wallet and handed her a hundred-cord note.

“Take this sweetheart, and buy yourself something pretty. It isn’t much, but be sure and spend it all. When we do get to the United Stated, I will see that you are dressed like a queen.”

Tears glistened in the girl’s eyes. “I can wait, Al darling. I know the judge took most of your money.

“Take it. I have plenty left. The man we are looking for has been here, but he has gone down the river. Tonight, we have nothing to fear. Tonight, we shall celebrate. Hey, that gives me an idea. Tonight we shall have our wedding celebration! How about that?

“Wonderful darling, wonderful!”

Al walked back to their table. Pio was putting the finishing touches on the picture. He handed it to Al. He gave it a quick look and passed it to the trader.

“It sure looks like him, but I cannot be sure?”

“Did he rent a cabin?”

“Yes, number three. Tonight you will have number two and three.”

“ That’s great,” Al told him. “And I think it is time we moved our belongings up to the cabins.”

The boy jumped up. “I will help you, I will show you the way.”

When they were outside, Al asked the boy; “Where is the number three cabin?”

The boy pointed with his finger. “We only have three that we rent. See them there? The first is number one, the others are numbers two and three.”

Al took off toward the cabins. He had something in mind. The rain had softened the ground. Ordinary footprints would not leave their prints on the trail. But a pair of hob nailed boots certainly would.

As he approached the canons he examined the ground closely. Were those tiny marks from boots? It was hard to tell. Then off to the side in the soft ground was the print of many hobnails. His boot! There was no doubt about it now; the killer had just left here this morning!

It looked to Al like he was coming to the end of the trail. It wasn’t far to the Caribbean Sea. The man had to be in there somewhere.

In the meantime, they would be safe here tonight. He glanced at his watch. It would be dark in an hour. He pulled out his pocketbook. He still had three hundred cord. Probably there would be no place to spend money below here. Might just as well have that party. It might be the last one, so why not make it a good one.? In the meantime he would help with the chores and tell Pio and Nocho about the footprints in the mud.

Chapter Twenty-Seven

For two days and nights, the rain came crashing down, it’s violence unchanging.

The far-sighted Nocho had a good supply of dry wood on hand, and there was plenty of good food already cooked.

Nocho’s cabin was where they spent most of their time. Al had a deck of playing cards in his suitcase. He dug it out, and a box full of poker chips as well.

Not one of the three of them had ever played this famous game, but they were more than willing to learn. At first, Al did all the dealing. He did not play. He moved from one player to the other, coaching them, suggesting how to bet. In no time at all, they caught on and were really enjoying the game.

In a short time, Al joined them, and had to play his best to break even. Of course, no money changed hands, only the poker chips.

Another item in Al’s suitcase was a small ten hole single reed Honer Marine Band mouth organ. His father had bought him one for Christmas when he was just a kid. He had learned how to play it. As the years passed by, he had kept in practice, keeping up with the times.

He dug out the mouth organ and began to play. He had a good audience and there was loud applause. He played until his mouth was sore.

Adilia sand a few songs in Spanish, including Maria Elena. Al accompanied her on the mouth organ. The girl was not only beautiful, but also had a very nice voice.

On the morning of the third day, it stopped raining. The sun came up, and the jungle began to steam. The water in the river had risen several feet. It was now a dirty red color, and full of floating trash. Many logs and broken branches turned slowly in the muddy water.

“Do you think the rain is over?” Al asked Nocho.

The old man grinned his toothless grin. “Have you had enough rain for now, Señor?”

Al grinned back. “It is more than enough. Will that be all of this tropical storm?”

Nocho nodded. “The rain is over. There will be no more for the present.”

“Will it be safe to go down the river tomorrow?”

Again he nodded. “In the morning, the river will be safe. Today, we will hunt for food.”

“Can you get another turkey, Nocho?”

“Probably, or maybe an iguana. Do you like iguana?”

Al frowned. “Darned if I know, that’s some kind of a lizard, isn’t it?”

Nocho nodded. “Iguana is very good. Today is a good day for hunting. The birds and animals have been in their shelters the last few days. Now they will all be hungry. They will come out looking for food… maybe we can get a turkey and an iguana.”

There was no traffic on the trail or the river. They had nothing to fear from the scar-faced killer today. Going hunting sounded like a good idea.

Tomorrow they would go hunting again; but not for birds or animals. Al had a feeling that they were close on the killer’s heels. He would be glad when this ordeal was over with.

They made plans for the day. Adilia would do the washing. Pio would also stay close the camp and gather wood for the big mud oven. Al and Nocho would go hunting.

Al had the rifle and a hunting knife. Nocho had the pistol, his machete and leather strings, which he stuffed in his pocket.

Al kissed Adilia and told Pio, “Keep your eyes open and stay close to camp. We will be back by noon.”

Nocho led the way. They headed north up the canyon. According to the map, they should be in Honduras. But, as Pio had said, it was sort of a no-man’s-land, still claimed by Nicaragua.

They kept going for about half an hour. Every little turn in the trail, they would stop and listen. Al didn’t know what they were listening for, but he soon found out.

Nocho stopped suddenly, holding his finger up in front of his lips. “Shush, quiet,” he whispered.

In the distance, Al could hear the faint sound of a gobbling turkey.

There was a small clearing just ahead of them. On one side of it was a big rock sticking up out of the ground. They went behind the boulder and both sat down.

Nocho gave Al a big grin, then cupped his hands in front of his mouth and cut loose with a series of gobbles of his own.

To Al’s surprise, an answer came floating back!

Nocho didn’t hesitate. He cut loosed with a fierce sounding gobble. It must have been taken as a challenge. The answer came back fast and sharp.

Nocho pointed across the clearing. He whispered, “He will come across there. Will you take him?”

Al grinned. “You get him here, Nocho. I’ll take him.”

Nocho gobbled once more. This time the answer was much closer. He waited for a moment, and then tried again.

“One more time,” said Nocho, “And he will be in the clearing.” Al slipped to safety. He was ready.

Nocho gobbled once more, the answer was not fifty feet from them. He nodded to Al, and at the same time, they both stood up.

There he stood, in the center of the clearing. Al wished he had a camera instead of a gun. He was a beauty. He stood there in fighting stance, his feathers fanned, his wings opened wide and his head thrust out in front.

“Get him,” whispered Nocho, “before he takes off.”

For several seconds, Al stood there admiring the magnificent bird. He would at least give him a chance! He leaned the gun against the rock, cupped his hands around his mouth and made a gobble sound!

Apparently, this was too much for the bird. With a running start, he went sailing into the air.

The little rifle was in Al’s hands. He took his time. If one shot didn’t bring him down, he was home free. He aimed at the head and pulled the trigger. The bird came tumbling down!

Nocho was amazed. He had never seen anything like this. He walked out and picked up the bird by its long legs. The top of the head, which had been hanging down, was blown away.

Al figured the turkey must have weighed at least thirty pounds. No need trying to get more, this would be all they could handle.

Nocho swung the bird over his shoulder, and they started back down the trail.

They had been gone only a little over an hour when they returned to camp. Smoke was curling out of the top of the big mud oven. Pio was sitting on the log beside it.

Nocho laid the turkey down in front of Pio and pointed at the head. “I thought he was going to let the bird fly away. He waited until the bird was in the air and then he blew its head off. Do you believe that?”

Pio nodded. “I have seen him shoot.” He pointed at the oven. “Notice the smoke coming out? I had the oven full of wood, but did not set it on fire until I heard his rifle.”

Nocho started cleaning the bird. “I still can’t believe it.”

“Where is Adilia?” Asked Al.

Pio pointed with his thumb. “In your cabin. She just finished making bread for the oven.”

Al sat down on the log and watched the smoke coming out of the chimney. They would have a good supply of food on hand when they left tomorrow. According to Nocho, after one day in the boat they would come to a small village.

Would the killer be there, waiting for them? Al hoped he would. Then it would be complete. If Al could get an even break with the guy, he would have a good chance. Very few people could match his talent with either pistol or rifle.

On the other hand, you didn’t need to be an expert to hit a man at close range. The killer had one big advantage. He would not hesitate. He would start shooting.

Today, when Al stood up behind that rock and saw the big turkey standing there, he had hesitated. He had given him a chance to escape. Why? Would he do the same thing if he got the drop on the killer?

If he did Al would probably end up a dead man; not to mention his friends and sweetheart. He was glad he had gone hunting with Nocho. He had discovered a weakness in himself. He remember an old saying; ‘He who hesitates is lost.’ This would sure hold true when he came face to face with the scar-faced killer.

He had read many stories of the old west. He had often wondered if famous gunmen, like Billy the Kid, were expert marksman. Could Billy the Kid, if he had he been there today, shot the head off that turkey? He doubted it. There was no record of Billy the Kid ever winning a friendly shooting contest. There was many more of them also: the Daltons, the Clantons and others.

There was not a doubt in Al’s mind he could out-shoot any one of them, if they were shooting at a target. But killing a live human being was something else.

Men like these were killers. They lived to kill. Killing was their business. Taking a man’s life was easier for them than Al shooting a turkey!

He must steel himself for whatever laid ahead. Regardless of whatever it was, he must do his best to protect himself and his loved ones. Time would surely tell.

Chapter Twenty-Six

The girl spoke slowly, as though trying to remember every minor detail.

“My true name is Adilia Maria Mendez. I am nineteen years old. I was born in San Jose, Costa Rica. My father was Spanish, and my mother was German.

Up until the time we left there, my parents were quite wealthy. They had a coffee plantation about an hours drive from the city. We did not live at the plantation, only the help stayed there.

We had a nice home in the city. The house had six rooms and was made of wood. In front, there was a green lawn and a wooden fence painted white. The houses in San Jose are much like the ones in the United States. Anyhow, that is what I have been told.

I was an only child. My mother almost died giving birth to me. They operated. She could have no more.

I was sent to private school. I learned to speak German; there were lots of Germans there. I was taught to dance and how to play the piano. I took singing lessons as money was no problem.

But things changed. About thirty kilometers form the city was a big volcano. For many years, it had been peacefully smoking away and doing very little damage. Then, one day it erupted.

A great column of black smoke and fire shot high into the air. Rivers of molten lava poured down its sides. The devil himself must have been underneath there.

For days it kept up like that. The sky became brown; the sun looked like an orange ball, and gray ash was falling like snow.

People weren’t too alarmed in the beginning. Surely soon, it would calm down.

The eruptions did slow down, but the old volcano kept smoking away. About an inch of ashes was falling on the city every day.

Everyone was shoveling volcanic ash. The city became dark; the lights were on day and night; the water supply was contaminated and the sewers were plugged.

People began to panic. They believed the country was doomed. Thousands of them pulled out, taking only their personal belongings. There was much looting, and a big crime wave. No one was safe on the streets.

Somehow, Father managed to get back and forth to the plantation every few days. Each time he returned, there was a doubtful look on his face. When questioned about it, he would just shake his head.

Then, on day, it was months later, we pulled out of there and headed for Nicaragua.

Evidently our plantation was directly in the path of the falling ash. Father said the coffee trees were almost completely covered.

Our pretty house and all the furniture, we left. There was no need of trying to sell anything. Father said that when, or if, the volcano quit smoking, we would return and see if we could salvage anything.”

The girl stopped talking for a moment. “Am I boring you to death with all this?”

“Lord, no. Don’t stop now!” Al couldn’t think of a more appropriate time to tell about a belching volcano. The wind and the rain outside furnished the sound effects.

“Father rented a house in Managua and got some kind of a job working for the government. We had a housekeeper. She was a black woman from Bluefield’s. It was from her that I learned to speak English.

I was just eight years old when we left Costa Rica.

Three years later, a big earthquake shook Managua to pieces. My father was killed. Everyone was ordered to leave. Go somewhere, anywhere! The city was on fire and there was no water.

Somehow, Mother and myself managed to get out of there. A truck picked us up and took us to Talpinecci.”

The girl quit talking for a moment. She moved closer to Al. “I think you can put the rest of the story together. Is there anything else you would like to know?”

Al shook his head. “I guess not, at least not right now. You sure answered a lot of my questions. No wonder you don’t look like the people that live here. I think most of them are at least part Indian.”

“You are right there. Also, you probably know that there are no Indians in Costa Rica.”

“What did you say?”

“There are no Indians in Costa Rica.”

“I though that is what you said. Alright, I’ll bite, why are there no Indians in Costa Rica?”

“Weren’t you taught that in school?”

“I am afraid not. Maybe I have just forgotten.”

“Alright, I will tell you. When Cortez invaded Costa Rica, he and his army killed most of the Indians. Those that managed to survive fled to what is now Nicaragua and Panama.”

“And none of them came back?”

“No Indians have returned to that country.”

“Well, I’ll be darned. That is sure news to me. I suppose Costa Rica is a lot like Nicaragua?”

The girl shook her head. “They are different in many ways. For instance, there is very little jungle in Costa Rica.”

“That is amazing. This country is about all jungle. Why the difference?”

“I am not sure, but I think it is because Costa Rica is all high mountains. There are many pine forests. There is always a breeze blowing. It is much cooler there.”

“What is the altitude at San Jose, do you know?”

The girl shook her head. “I do know remember but I know it is very high. I remember lots of times when we were coming off the mountain, we could see many clouds below us.”

“I remember reading about that volcano. Did it finally quit smoking?”

“I am not sure. But I think so.”

As was about to question her about the earthquake in Managua, then changed his mind. He had put her through enough already. All of this talking had not brought back a lot of fond memories. That was for sure.

Outside the storm continued. Wind howled around the cabin, water was running everywhere.

The girl remained cool as a cucumber. ‘No wonder,’ Al thought, ‘After what she had been through, a little thing like a tropical storm shouldn’t bother her.’

His gaze stole down to her little white hand. His mind drifted back to that night in Talpinecci. His only target that dark night was a flash of light on the blade coming down. Thank God he had hit it. If he had missed that knife… she would not be here tonight.

He hope he could do as well when he went against the scar-faced killer!

Chapter Twenty-Five

Al was awakened by what sounded like pistol shots. He slid off the bed and grabbed the rifle. He motioned for the girl to lay flat on the bed. He slipped on his trousers and shoes before he untied the leather strings that held the door shut. He opened it a crack and peeked out. Pio was standing by the grill putting wood on the fire. “Did you hear someone shooting?” Al Asked.

Pio nodded, “ I am sure it was Nocho. He says there are many wild turkeys up the canyon. He went to see if he could kill one.”

Al breathed a sigh of relief and turned to the girl. “False alarm,” he grinned. “Lets get dressed and go see if we can find something to eat.”

Pio had a pot of coffee on the fire. There was about a dozen bananas lying on the table. These were the green ones that Pio had wrapped in the cloth a few days ago. Now they were yellow and ready to eat.

The girl dished up some cooked rice and added sliced banana, sprinkled on a little brown sugar then added some canned milk. Breakfast was ready.

Nocho came in wearing his toothless smile; there was a big turkey on his back.

When breakfast was over, Al suggested that they get ready to go on down the river. Somewhere below was the killer. They must go after him. Nocho shook his head. “It is better that we do not go today. Notice the dark clouds. Today it will rain for sure. We would not be safe on the river in a storm.”

The clouds were dark. Al had hired this fellow to guide them down the river. So far, he had done and excellent job. At least they were alive. He would not question his judgment now. Besides, another night in the little cabin with Adilia sounded mighty fine.

“You are right,” Al told him. “We will stay here today.” He smiled at the girl. “And maybe tomorrow.”

The big mud oven proved of great interest to Al. He had seen a lot of them at a distance, but this on was the first he had been close to. He looked it over carefully.

It was about four feet high, and about the same distance across. It was round, and the top was rounded off like a huge light bulb. In the center of the top was a hole about an inch in diameter. This was the chimney, a place for the smoke to escape and give it a draft. In one side at the bottom, was a square hole, about one square foot. This was the entrance to the oven.

Today, they would roast the big turkey and bake bread.

Al morning, Pio had been gathering wood. There was a big pile by the log. He began cramming it into the oven.

Nocho began cleaning the turkey; Adilia would make the bread.

Al watched, fascinated. This was certainly a new world for him. He never dreamed that such methods existed. In fact, he had never heard of an oven like this.

He still couldn’t understand how the big thing worked.

The wood was crammed inside. Pio set it on fire. Smoke began to spiral out of the hole in the top.

There was a steel plate that would cover the opening to the oven. Pio adjusted this, giving the fire the right amount of draft. He left the oven on and sat down on a log. For now, his part of the chores was finished.

Al went over and sat down beside him. He pointed with his thumb.

“Pio, I don’t want to appear stupid. But, how in hell are you going to cook anything in there when it’s full of burning wood?”

“Do you not have ovens like this in the United States?”

“We sure don’t. And this is the only one I have ever seen in action. Would you mind explaining how the damn thing works? I guess I could wait and see, but my curiosity is killing me.”

Pio grinned, and started to explain.

“In about an hour, the thick walls of the oven will become red hot inside. We will take a small rake and drag out what is left of the wood and coals. These go into the grill. On the grill, we will heat water and make coffee. Nothing is wasted. Then, we will put the bread and the turkey in the oven. The door will be closed tight, so no cold air can enter. There will be a few sticks of wood left inside. They will make enough smoke to give everything a fine flavor.” Pio licked his lips and grinned. “You will see.”

“How long will it take to cook the meal?” Al asked.

“Probably a couple of hours.”

“If the oven is red hot, won’t it burn everything?”

Pio shook his head. “At first, the bread and turkey will steam. This will cool the oven somewhat. It will still be hot enough to make everything turn a golden brown. Then it will cool down some more and cook everything until it is well done and very tender.”

“Sounds like a winner.”

“You will see, Señor Al.”

Pio had selected the provisions on this trip, and Al thought he had certainly done a fine job. It didn’t seem like they were getting enough at the time, but the man generally knew what he was doing so he’d trust him this time too.

An hour went by. The sky was black, but as of yet, it had not rained.

On the table was turkey. It was lying on its back on a tin platter. Also, there were four big loaves of bread on tin plates. It was now time to put them in the oven.

Al watched, fascinated. Pio removed the metal cover in front of the oven and set it aside. He picked up a long metal rod with a flat piece of iron across the front. With this utensil, he began raking out he remains of the fire, which went into the grill front. Next, the turkey and the bread were pushed far back into the oven. A few smoldering pieces of wood were also put back.

The steel plate was placed in front of the entrance and the hole in the top was plugged. Dinner was now cooking.

Al produced the map and spread it out on the table. Somewhere below here, lived the scar-faced killer. Nocho had seen him pass by many times.

There were no names of any towns close to their current location on the map. He asked Nocho.

“Are there any villages down the river?”

“Yes, there is one, about one day in a boat.”

“Good. When we are ready, we will go there. Probably someone there will know him.”

Again, Al thought of the man named Kirkland. Come to think of it, he hadn’t asked Nocho about this man. He took the picture out of his pocketbook and handed it to him.

“Take a close look at this picture. This man lives somewhere in this area, and I would sure like to find him. He is quite a bit older now, but looks very much the same. Also,” Al grinned, “This one is a friend.”

Nocho took the picture and studied it carefully.

“His name is John Kirkland, if that will help any.”

Nocho handed back the picture.

“I do not know this man, but I have seen him a number of times.”

“Where, Nocho, where?” Al was getting excited.

“I do not remember where or when. But I think it was down the river. Maybe at some time he has gone by here in a boat. I cannot remember.”

Al remembered the fist time he had met the old man. At first, he didn’t have much confidence in him. How things had changed. If Nocho had said he had seen John Kirkland, he had seen John Kirkland! Maybe he would find him yet!

“If you happen to remember where you saw this fellow, be sure to tell me. It is very important.”

The day was getting hot and muggy. There was no sign of a breeze. There were no boats on the river, and no one on that trails. Evidently, all the natives around here thought it was a good day to stay close to shelter.

Al suggested to Adilia that they go swimming. She was in full accord. Pio and Nocho dug up a pair of shorts and went along. They took turns standing guard with the rifle.

Once more, Al felt like a big kid. Adilia was a wonderful playmate. They raced up and down the sandy beach; they dove into the swirling current, and played in the sand. Time passed quickly. It was past noon and still there was no rain.

They went back to the cabins and put on fresh clothes. It was time to open the big mud oven.

Al stood by and watched. First, the oven door was set aside. Pio reached inside with the rake and pulled out a golden loaf of bread, then three more, and then the turkey. It was time to eat.

Al couldn’t remember when food had tasted better. Even Sarah’s Thanksgiving dinners were not better than this. When he got home, if he got home, he was going to build one of these big mud ovens. He wondered if Adilia knew how.

Suddenly, the overcast sky grew much darker. A huge black cloud was coming from the north. It was approaching rapidly, although there was no wind here.

Nocho walked out from under the lean-to. For a moment, he stared up into the sky. Then, suddenly, he came back on the run.

“It’s coming!” He yelled. “Stay under cover, if you don’t want to get wet.”

Al sat down on the log beside Adilia. “I think Nocho’s rain is finally going to get here,” he remarked.

The girl’s eyes sparkled. “There will be many beautiful lights and lots of noise,” she whispered.

A forked streak of flame went shooting across the sky, followed by a tremendous clap of thunder.

Al looked around. ‘This is a flimsy place to take shelter in a tropical storm,’ he thought.

The lightning blazed and at the same time, a violent crash shook the earth.

Adilia jumped to her feet and ran out to where Pio and Nocho were standing, with faces upturned.

Another blue-white flame shot across the horizon, above the mass of jungle, followed by a violent crash.

Long ago, the birds and animals had gone to their shelters. For a few seconds, there wasn’t a sound.

Al took a deep breath of the soft air. The humidity strengthened the scent of the undergrowth. He took a few steps and joined the trio outside. If they were going to stay out here, so was he!

There was deep rumbling in the background and lots of brilliant flashes. Then, the thunder that had been creeping up sprang its ambush. There was a quick flash of light. A big tree a hundred yards down the river split down the middle and came tumbling down, crushing the foliage beneath it. Black smoke came curling up, and the smell of sulfur and brimstone was in the air.

Then, another colossal explosion!

A loud cheer startled Al…another explosion…another cheer. He couldn’t believe his ears. With every clap of thunder, the three people stood there cheering, yelling for more, only to be drowned out by another and another.

This was only a prelude of what was to come. Suddenly, tiny droplets of water blurred the dancing lights. Then, the avalanche came crashing down! Al grabbed Adilia and ran for the cabin. Big drops were coming now, and coming fast. The advancing sheet of water was at their heels!

The big drops of hail were hitting the ground so hard, that it looked like they were bouncing high in the air.

They were in the cabin, and just in time. The rain was pouring down.

Adilia went to open the window and looked out. Her face was flushed from the excitement. She turned to Al.

“Beautiful, wasn’t it?”

Al nodded. “I have seen many thunderstorms in Arizona, but never anything like this.” He was glad that the downpour had stopped the fireworks. He walked over and put his arm around her shoulders. It had been a show that he would never forget. Even the best producers in Hollywood couldn’t put on one like this.

The people here had no movies, radio or television. They depended upon the wonder of nature for entertainment. Al thought that if there had been an earthquake and a big volcano belching smoke and fire today, this show would have really been a big success.

They stood there for a few minutes listening to the drumming of the rain. The fireworks seemed to be over, at least for the present. But now, something new was added: the wind

A big gust hit the cabin. For a moment, Al thought the cabin would be carried away. Water was running across the floor and the ground trembled.

So far, there were no leaks in the roof. Driving rain was coming through the window. Al picked up the shutter and put it in place. The room was as dark as night, and it was only two o’clock in the afternoon. He took the shutter and laid it on the floor. It would be one hell of a long night if he left it in.

The bed was on the opposite side of the room. At least it was dry. He took the girl by the arm and together they walked over and sat down.

The old man had certainly been correct when he said it was going to rain. What if they had been caught out on the river in this storm? Al shuddered with the thought.

Anyhow, the scar-faced killer wouldn’t be out prowling around in this. That was one thing to be thankful for during the storm.

He kicked off his shoes and lay down on the bed. Adilia did likewise, and lay down beside him, her head on his shoulder.

‘Everything as just as it should be,’ thought Al, when this wonderful girl was beside him. When he was finished here, he would take her home with him. When he was finished here.

He hoped that would be soon. Damn the Judge!

The girl was running her fingers through his hair. “Are you alright, darling?” She asked.

“Just fine. I was just thinking. When we are finished here, we will go to my home in Arizona. We will be married there, and have a big wedding. How does that sound to you?”

“Wonderful darling, wonderful!”

“Then I will buy you a new car.”

“A car, just for me?”

“And a lot of beautiful new clothes.”

The girl drew herself close and whispered in his ear.

“And I will bear you many beautiful children.”

For a moment, Al lay there thinking about what a beautiful world it could be, with this girl beside him every night. If that cock-eyed Judge hadn’t passed that ridiculous sentence on him, he would take Adilia out of here tomorrow.

Adilia seemed to read his thoughts. “Everything is going to be alright, darling. I will pray for you.”

He would need all the help he could get. A few prayers might not hurt a bit.

Just who was this girl lying here beside him? She had told him, ‘Sometime, when we are alone and have time, I will tell you about myself.’ ‘Right now should be as good as any,’ he thought.

He kissed her on the cheek. “Darling, you told me you would tell me all about yourself. Don’t you think now would be a good time? I am really curious.”

“There isn’t really much to tell. What would you like to know?”

“I know that you are not a native of this area. Where did you come from? Who were your parents? Just anything that comes to your mind. Take your time, we have lots of it.”