Twice they came to the stretches of cataract, and here they drew in to the bank, unloaded, and waded beside the boat, sometimes plunging waist deep, sometimes clambering over the rocks, guiding it by hand until they reached clear water again. Then they tied up to the bank and carried their cargo down to it through the bush. For the rest of the way the river was broad and smooth; a dark surface which reflected in fine detail the walls of forest on either. side, towering up from the undergrowth to their flowering crown a hundred or more feet above them. Sometimes they came to a stretch of water scattered with fallen petals and floated among them, moving scarcely less slowly than they, as though resting in a blossoming meadow. At night they spread their tarpaulin on stretches of dry beach, and hung their hammocks in the bush. Only the cabouri fly and rare, immobile alligators menaced the peace of their days. They kept a constant scrutiny of the banks but saw no sign of human life.
Then Tony developed fever. It came on him quite suddenly, during the fourth afternoon. At their midday halt he was in complete health and had shot a small deer that came down to drink on the opposite bank; an hour later he was shivering so violently that he had to lay down his paddle; his head was flaming with heat, his body and limbs frigid; by sunset he was slightly delirious.
Dr. Messinger took his temperature and found that it was a hundred and four degrees, Fahrenheit. He gave him twenty-five grains of quinine and lit a fire so close to his hammock that by morning it was singed and blacked with smoke. He told Tony to keep wrapped up in his blanket, but at intervals throughout that night he woke from sleep to find himself running with sweat; he was consumed with thirst and drank mug after mug of river water. Neither that evening nor next morning was he able to eat anything.
But next morning his temperature was down again. He felt weak and exhausted but he was able to keep steady in his place and paddle a little.
``It was just a passing attack, wasn't it?'' he said. ``I shall be perfectly fit tomorrow, shan't I?''
``I hope so,'' said Dr. Messinger.
At midday Tony drank some cocoa and ate a cupful of rice. ``I feel grand,'' he said.
``Good.''
That night the fever came on again. They were camping on a sand bank. Dr. Messinger heated stones and put them under Tony's feet and in the small of his back. He was awake most of the night fuelling the fire and refilling Tony's mug with water. At dawn Tony slept for an hour and woke feeling slightly better; he was taking frequent doses of quinine and his ears were filled with a muffled sound as though he were holding those shells to them in which, he had been told in childhood, one could hear the beat of the sea.
``We've got to go on,'' said Dr., Messinger. ``We can't be far from a village now.''
``I feel awful. Wouldn't it be better to wait a day till I am perfectly fit again.''
``It's no good waiting. We've got to get on. D'you think you can manage to get into the canoe?''
Dr. Messinger knew that Tony was in for a long bout. For the first few hours of that day Tony lay limp in the bows. They had shifted the stores so that he could lie full length. Then the fever came on again and his teeth chattered. He sat up and crouched with his head in his knees, shaking all over; only his forehead and cheeks were burning hot under the noon sun. There was still no sign of a village.
It was late in the afternoon when he first saw Brenda. For some time he had been staring intently at the odd shape amidships where the stores had been piled; then he realized that it was a human being.
``So the Indians came back?'' he said.
``Yes.''
``I knew they would. Silly of them to be scared by a toy. I suppose the others are following.''
``Yes, I expect so. Try and sit still.''
``Damned fool, being frightened of a toy,'' Tony said derisively to the woman amidships. Then he saw that it was Brenda. ``I'm sorry,'' he said. ``I didn't see it was you. You wouldn't be frightened of a toy.''
But she did not answer him. She sat as she used often to sit when she came back from London, huddled over her bowl of bread and milk.
Dr. Messinger steered the boat in to the side. They nearly capsized as he helped Tony out. Brenda got ashore without assistance. She stepped out in her delicate, competent way, keeping the balance of the boat.
``That's what poise means,'' said Tony. ``D'you know I once saw a questionnaire that people had to fill in when they applied for a job in an American firm, and one of the things they had to answer was `Have you poise?' ''
Brenda was at the top of the bank waiting for him. ``What was so absurd about the question was that they had only the applicant's word for it,'' he explained laboriously. ``I mean--is it a sign of poise to think you have it.''
``Just sit quiet here while I sling your hammock.''
``Yes, I'll sit here with Brenda. I am so glad she could come. She must have caught the three-eighteen.''
She was with him all that night and all the next day. He talked to her ceaselessly but her replies were rare and enigmatic. On the succeeding evening he had another fit of sweating. Dr. Messinger kept a large fire burning by the hammock and wrapped Tony in his own blanket. An hour before dawn Tony fell asleep and when he awoke Brenda had gone.
``You're down to normal again.''
``Thank God. I've been pretty ill, haven't I? I can't remember much.''
Dr. Messinger had made something of a camp. He had chopped a square clear of undergrowth, the size of a small room. Their two hammocks hung on opposite sides of it. The stores were all ashore, arranged in an orderly pile on the tarpaulin.
``How d'you feel?''
``Grand,'' said Tony, but when he got out of his hammock he found he could not stand without help. ``Of course, I haven't eaten anything. I expect it will be a day or two before I'm really well.''
Dr. Messinger said nothing, but strained the tea clear of leaves by pouring it slowly from one mug into another; he stirred into it a large spoonful of condensed milk.
``See if you can drink this.''
Tony drank it with pleasure and ate some biscuits.
``Are we going on today?'' he asked.
``We'll think about it.'' He took the mugs down to the bank and washed them in the river. When he came back he said; ``I think I'd better explain things. It's no use your thinking you are cured because you are out of fever for one day. That's the way it goes. One day fever and one day normal. It may take a week or it may take much longer. That's a thing we've got to face. I can't risk taking you in the canoe. You nearly upset us several times the day before yesterday.''
``I thought there was someone there I knew.''
``You thought a lot of things. It'll go on like that. Meanwhile we've provisions for about ten days. There's no immediate anxiety there but it's a thing to remember. Besides what you need is a roof over your head and constant nursing. If only we were at a village ...''
I'm afraid I'm being a great nuisance.''
``That's not the point. The thing is to find what is best for us to do.''
But Tony felt too tired to think; he dozed for an hour or so. When he awoke Dr. Messinger was cutting back the bush further. ``I'm going to fix up the tarpaulin as a roof.''
(He had marked this place on his map Temporary Emergency Base Camp.)
Tony watched him listlessly. Presently he said, ``Look here, why don't you leave me here and go down the river for help?''
``I thought of that. It's too big a risk.''
That afternoon Brenda was back at Tony's side and he was shivering and tossing in his hammock.