furrowing. 'I'm sure it wasn't up the River Tinjar, though. Of course, it all happened before I came here, so it was a rather vague story in which I wasn't particularly interested.' Again he paused, and his frown of concentration deepened. 'The River Yangai seems to ring a bell.' 'The Yangai?' from Timothy with a note of interest. 'There are several long-houses up towards the head of that river. You're really in the ulu region when you get up there.'
'What's the ulu?' asked Roanna, never having heard the word before.
'The back of beyond; the swamps and the jungle.'
She shook her head; this kind of terrain was the very last which Rolfe would tackle, even for the riches he had hoped to find. And yet, she was thinking a moment later, his greed could have been such that he had not given much thought to the hazards he might meet. Rolfe, she remembered, had always been an optimist, arrogantly expecting fate to favour him at every turn.
'Your husband would never have gone up there,' Susan was saying kindly and, she obviously hoped, reassuringly. 'No man in his right mind would venture into that primitive part of the island.'
But Roanna was soon to learn that at least one man in his right mind intended venturing into the ulu along the Yangai River. Carl Denver had chosen that particular territory for his investigations this year. He would be making the trip quite soon, immediately his vacation began. This information came from Malcolm who, having asked Roanna to attend a race meeting with him, had called at the hotel for her. Once in his car and on their way he spoke about Carl's projected trip into the remote interior of the jungle.
'Among other things he hopes to investigate the possibility of clearing the natural vegetation from areas of non-podsolic soils so that the land can be used for agriculture.'
'He's going up the Yangai River?' Some quiver of a nerve gave fleeting evidence of excitement, but as the sensation vanished almost before it made itself felt it left no impression on Roanna's mind. 'I believe it's quite dangerous?'
'All journeys into the interior have their dangers, but Carl knows what he's doing. He's had plenty of experience.'
'What exactly happens when a man goes into the interior?'
'Well, he travels by prahu, because there are no roads. The prahu has an outboard motor, of course— You've seen these long boats on the rivers, haven't you?'
She nodded her head.
'They always seem as if one puff of wind will blow them over.'
'They do capsize easily,' he admitted, then added ruefully that one must take great care when sailing one along a crocodile-infested river. 'You don't take chances when that sort of animal's about.'
'Will there be crocodiles where Mr. Denver's going?'
'Probably.'
'Does he go alone to these places?'
'No, he takes Natives with him. You see, he has to leave the prahu and take to the jungle tracks — if there are tracks, that is. Where you get the longhouses and the tilling of the land you do have tracks; otherwise you don't, and you must cut your way through the jungle as best you can. The Natives do this.'
'It sounds very hazardous.' Surely Rolfe would never have voluntarily taken a trip like this? And yet, as she had told herself before, his greed might have overruled his caution. She shivered on thinking about the crocodiles — then put the awful picture from her mind.
'It isn't every man's idea of a picnic,' he owned with a grin. 'However, Carl revels in it. He's an odd sort of chap, really, preferring to go off like that every vacation time. Others of us buzz off home and find ourselves a girl-friend or two.'
'Will he still do this work when he leaves the oil company?'
'I shouldn't think so, but one never knows. He'll have a fairly large estate to look to and that might take all his time. If it doesn't you can be sure he'll be off into the jungle