Innocent managed a chuckle. ‘No, no, no! Everyone be still and quiet. I will have a nice chat, very nice. Everything’s good.’ He sounded fine but I noticed his hands, raised in front of him, were fluttering slightly as he took a step forward to talk with the last of the men to emerge. This guy was older, pot-bellied, unarmed, and his face was so black in the half-light that it seemed almost blue. Whoever these people were, he was clearly in charge of them.

Innocent and the man talked in French. I caught words but not enough to piece together the sense. However I knew Xander would be able to translate, and when I leaned his way he whispered, ‘Innocent’s pretending he doesn’t know they’re poachers and they’re pretending they don’t know this is a wildlife reserve.’

‘OK,’ I said.

‘Trouble is, they don’t believe each other.’

Almost imperceptibly, Patience breathed, ‘Shhh,’ beside us.

The guy with the pot belly held out his hand and Innocent reluctantly gave him the two-way radio he’d brought to keep in touch with the park rangers. As the poacher was pocketing it he looked over Innocent’s shoulder. And saw what? Four white kids flanked by a little black girl and a burly chaperone who had already lowered his gun. Innocent was doing his best to keep light-hearted and in control. But Amelia let out a sob and Innocent glanced around at her and seeing her terror he missed a beat, faltering in whatever he was saying. The fat guy he was negotiating with noticed. Even without understanding what they were saying, I could tell that the discussion had changed shape. Innocent had been reasoning and persuading, but now he was pleading. Everything bristled. The poachers, the rainforest, the bird-noise within it: a wave of anything-could-happen happened, and I was powerless to help.

15.

Or was I?

I once saw a television programme about what you should do if you’re confronted by a mugger. The best option is to run away. But though I’m quick, and I have a pretty good sense of direction, the jungle was ridiculously dense and I didn’t know which way to run. And even if I had managed to get past the cordon of armed men, I’d be leaving Xander, Amelia and – yes – Caleb in the lurch, and I wasn’t about to desert my friends.

Another option is to fight back, but, as the TV presenter said, that’s a last resort, only to be used if you think you can win, and – let’s face it – these men had guns. All I had was a long stick. It didn’t even have a sharp end. Attacking them would be suicide.

However the TV presenter – an ex-army type with thick sideburns and a moustache – had explained that there is a third way beyond fight-or-flight. In certain situations, unnerving a mugger by doing something unexpected – pretending to have an epileptic fit, say, or reciting the Lord’s Prayer at top volume – can convince them not to bother with you on the grounds that there are better, more predictable people to mug elsewhere.