"Anthony Wall - The Eden Mission (2)" - читать интересную книгу автора (Wall Anthony)

cunning, power-packed. One blow from a paw, so soft while stalking, could
smash a man's skull, bring down an ox. A jaguar might attack any animal,
however large, and drag it through dense undergrowth for a mile to share the
feast with mate and cubs.

They're crafty fishermen, too. Sitting on a log, a jaguar taps the water
lightly with his tail--a plop like the sound of falling fruit or insects.
Expectant fish rise to the bait. A flash and slash of claws, and he has hooked
a scaly snack.

It is also said that he can imitate the voices of almost all the forest
creatures, luring them into a trap.

King Jaguar. You paid him respect. Men who hadn't, had died or been maimed.
Some who survived tell of being paralysed with fear, nailed to the spot by the
golden spikes of his eyes.

At night his reverberating roar, a coughing "Uh-uh-uh-uh-uh", rings faster and
faster, louder and louder up to a thunderous climax which fades into muted
grunts. When the jaguar speaks, other beings tend to fall silent.

The Jeep sped on in the mounting heat. Miles to go before Osuna reached the
makeshift wooden jail where Mendoza was held prisoner.

On the road in front he saw a mushrooming puff of red dust. A lorry swayed
towards him. He heard the tinny blare of pop music and a jeering chorus of
shouts. Miners? Lumberjacks? Probably drunk after an all-night binge in one of
the local settlements.

Passing them, Osuna glanced at the driver and the other men in the lorry. All
wore the same mindless expression. But why were they shouting insults?

Then he noticed a group of Amazon Indians standing dejectedly by the roadside.
A man, woman and child, nearly naked. Thrown off their land, he guessed, by
"superior" white men. South American governments have insisted they need the
money from timber, farming and mining. Trees are felled to make luxury
furniture and paper; to clear space for cattle that will be turned into
hamburgers; to open up the deposits of tin, iron, diamonds. In thirty years
this whole vast primeval forest could be reduced to a bald wasteland.

Osuna knew what so-called civilised people had done to the Indians--and he
felt ashamed. In Columbus's day there were nine million Amazonian Indians.
Over the centuries they have been poisoned, bombed, shot and struck down by
deliberately-introduced diseases against which they have no resistance. Now
there are fewer than 200,000. Much of the remnant population has retreated to
remote corners of the jungle or ended up in squalid city slums.

Osuna ground his teeth. He couldn't help comparing the Indians, dignified even
in defeat, with the lorry-load of rowdy drunks. If either were savages, it
wasn't the Indians. They are the only ones who understand the forest, treat it