Ramirez took a sip of wine, nodded with appreciation, and stared off into space as he ordered his thoughts. The buzzing and chirping of millions of tropical insects came through the screened windows, and the concert provided a fitting back ground for tales of the rain forest.

After a moment's reflection, he said, “First you must realize as we sit here in this island of civilization, with our propane gas stove and our electrical generator, that only a few years ago we would have been dead within minutes had we strayed into this part of the forest. Fierce Indians inhabited the area. Head hunting and cannibalism were commonplace. Anyone, whether you were a missionary bringing in the word of God or a hunter searching for animal skins, was regarded as an intruder who must be killed. Only recently have these people been domesticated.”

“Except for the Chulo,” Gamay ventured.

“Correct. They retreated further into the forest rather than be pacified. I must confess that I learned more about them today than I knew in the three years I have been living here. I have seriously doubted they even exist. With this tribe you must separate facts from legend. The other Indians avoid the forest beyond the Great Falls. They say people who go into Chulo territory never come out. Their fear, as you saw today, is real. Those are the scant facts.”

“And the legend?” Gamay said.

“They can make themselves invisible,” Ramirez said with a smile. “They can fly. They can pass through solid obstacles. They are more like ghosts or spirits than men. They can't be killed by ordinary weapons.”

“The bullet hole we saw puts that myth to rest,” Paul said.

“It would seem so,” Ramirez agreed. “There is another story, even more intriguing. The tribe is apparently matriarchal. A woman leads it. A goddess, in fact.”

“An Amazon?” Gamay suggested.

In answer, Ramirez pulled an object from his pocket. It was the pendant that had been hanging around the dead man's neck. “Perhaps this is our winged goddess. It is said she protects her tribe and that her vengeance is terrible.”

“She who must be obeyed,” Gamay said dramatically.

“Pardon?”

Gamay smiled. “It's a quote from an adventure story I read when I was young. About a jungle goddess who lived for thousands of years without aging.”

Paul took the pendant and studied it. “Goddess or not, she didn't do a very good job of guarding the native we saw.”

The older man's face darkened. “Yes, but at the same time...”

“Is there something wrong?” Gamay said.

“I'm somewhat concerned. One of the village men came to me. He said there were stirrings of trouble in the forest.” “What kind of trouble?” Paul asked. “He didn't know. Only that it had to do with the murdered Indian.”

“In what way?” Gamay asked.

“I'm not sure exactly.” He paused. “Creatures are being killed in this forest at this moment. Insects, animals, and birds are constantly involved in a violent struggle for life. Yet out of this bloody chaos there is an equilibrium.” His deep-set eyes seemed to grow even darker. “I fear that the killing of the Indian has disturbed this balance.”