"There." She pointed to a sapling not far distant. "The _palo santo_ yonder has a hollow trunk, and in it there are usually ants, which are called fire-ants. They bite horribly. It feels like a drop of molten metal on your flesh. And it festers afterwards. And there is a fly, the _berni_ fly, which lays its eggs in living flesh. The maggot eats its way within. I do not know much about the jungle, but my father has--had a _fazenda_ in Matto Grosso and I was there as a child. The _camaradas_ told me much about the jungle, then." Bell winced, and sat down beside her. She had Ribiera's pearl handled automatic within easy reach. She saw him looking at it. "I do not think there is any danger," she said with a not very convincing smile, "but there are _cururus_--water snakes. They grow very large." "And I asked you to fish!" said Bell. "Stop it!" * * * * * She hauled the line ashore, with a flapping thing on the end of it. Bell took the fish off and regarded her catch moodily. "I'd been thinking," he said moodily, "that Ribiera suspects we're dead. I'd been envisioning ourselves as marooned, yes, but relatively safe as long as we were thought to be dead. And I'd thought that if we lived a sort of castaway existence for a few weeks we'd be forgotten, and would have a faint chance of getting out to civilization without being noticed. But this...." "I will stay," she said steadily. "I will stay anywhere or go anywhere, with you." Bell's hand closed on her shoulder. "I believe it," he said heavily. "And--if you noticed--I had been thinking of letting down the Trade. I'd been thinking of not trying to fight The Master any longer, but only of getting you to safety. In a sense, I was thinking of treason to my job and my government. I suspect"--he smiled rather queerly--"I suspect we love each other rather much, Paula. I'd never have dreamed for anyone else. Go over to the plane and don't fish any more. I'll rustle the food for both of us." She stood up obediently, smiling at him. "But kill that _piranha_ before you try to handle it," she advised seriously. Bell battered the savage thing until it ceased to move. He picked it up, then, and sniffed the air. Paula had been in a cloud of acrid smoke. She could not have detected the taint in the air he discovered. He went curiously, saw a broken branch overhead, and then saw something on the ground. * * * * * He came back to the plane presently, looking rather sick. "Give me one of the machetes, Paula," he said quietly. "We brought them, I think." "What is the matter?" He took the wide-bladed woods knife. "A man," he said, nauseated. "He either fell or was thrown from somewhere high above. From a plane. He was United States Secret Service. There's a badge in his clothes. Don't come."