I’m not moving, I’m not even breathing, I assure her, looking back at the muscular warriors on the bank. They have long dark hair and bright black eyes and distended earlobes that hang down several inches and appear to be pierced and decorated with small, sharpened bones.

Good, because their arrows have been rubbed with the venom of golden poison dart frogs—the most lethal toxin known to man. If one of them pricks you, it’s over:

I consider diving into the river and trying to escape by swimming underwater. As if anticipating my thoughts, two more warriors emerge from the trees on the far bank, also aiming blowguns at us. I spot several more tribesmen perched motionless on high branches. If I tried to dive over the side, I’d have half a dozen poison darts sticking out of me before I hit the water.

Tell them we come in friendship, I suggest to Eko. Maybe I could give them my bead necklace as a peace offering. Or they might like my sandals.

They have no use for your sandals, Jack. Except maybe eating them.

As long as they don’t eat me.

It’s not out of the question.

I ask myself what Gisco would do at this moment. He would probably be begging the Great Dog God to spare his life, while promising all sorts of self-degradations and deprivations in return. Sadly, I don’t think the Great Dog God has much pull when it comes to pygmy warriors with frog-poisoned blow darts. We’ll have to find a way out of this by ourselves. Eko, can you talk to them?

I’m trying.

You can joke with dolphins. I’ve seen you get inside the heads of birds in flight. How can you not be able to say a friendly hello to these fellow human beings?

I have to find them first. Telepathically.

One warrior barks out a few syllables. Perhaps he’s asking a polite question, like: “Hi, would you like to join our tribe for a spot of tea?” But it sounds more like a gruff command with a murderous intent: “Kill them quickly and let’s see how they taste with citrus sauce.”

Eko, they’re going to shoot! I can see it in their eyes.

I believe you’re right.

For God’s sake, find a way to talk to them!

I can’t. I’ll have to draw them a picture.

What? How?

Eko slowly raises her right arm above her head. She extends her index finger.

The warriors on both banks pause for a second before launching darts at us to see what she has in mind. I’m a little curious, too. Whatever you’re up to, Eko, it better be good. They have their fingers on the triggers … or rather their lips on the blowguns …