How Teddy Roosevelt Slew the Last Mighty T-Rex by Mark Paul Jacobs Page A

campfire, Roosevelt spoke, “Perhaps our host can offer some insight of what lies ahead?”
    Martin relinquished his translation obligations to Paishon with a gentle nod. The camarada addressed the natives directly in the Nhambiquara tongue, although Roosevelt sensed he struggled with some subtle differences in dialect.
    Chahknu pointed downstream and to the north. “The water flows in many directions, right and left,” he began, translated by Paishon. “But roars like thunder just a day’s journey distant.”
    “Can our canoes run these rapids?” Rondon asked.
      Chahknu shook his head. “No, not all… There are some that you may try, but most will shred your dugouts to firewood. Even our finest paddlers would not attempt these, fearing death.”
    Roosevelt asked, “How many rapids are ahead, and how far until the river runs flat?”
    “Many days of hardship,” Chahknu replied, spreading forth fingers on both hands. “Many…”
    “And what can we expect beyond the rapids?”
    Paishon chatted briefly with the native and then paused. He scratched his head and conversed again. Paishon shrugged his shoulders. “Death,” he said finally. “The chieftain said, ‘death with certainty’, or ‘certain death’.”
    “Certain death?”
    “Yes, Commander Roosevelt, that is what he said, quite clearly.”
    “Can you ask him to clarify?”
    Paishon stroked his chin and turned to Rondon. The Brazilian Colonel responded in Portuguese, “ esclarecer .”
    Paishon nodded. “ Sim, sim .” He turned back to the Navaïté chieftain speaking in Nhambiquara.
    Following Paishon’s latest inquiry, Chahknu nodded and continued, “The land beyond the rapids is the domain of the Wide Belts. They are sworn enemies and neither side dare tread on the other’s rightful domain. Encountering them, even by mistake, in the wilderness leads to almost instant death, and they consume the flesh of their enemies, a practice we avoid unless hunger overwhelms us.”
    “Is there a way around this tribe?” Rondon asked.
    “No,” Chahknu said, motioning with his hands and fingers. “The river flows straight through their territory and their tribes inhabit a wide section of forest to both sides. There is no way around.”
    Roosevelt turned to Lieutenant Martin. “Have you ever engaged this Wide Belt tribe?”
    “I’m afraid not,” Martin replied, “although I am quite familiar with the rapids ahead, though I have never progressed into the Wide Belt domain, fearing for my life while travelling alone.”
    “Then do you still think we have any chance of passing through their territory without conflict?”
    “I believe any tribe in the Amazon can be appeased by applying the proper skills.”
    “You are a very confident man, Mister Martin,” Rondon stated coolly.
    “Once again, Colonel” Martin replied somewhat impatiently. “You appear to have but two alternatives. You can either turn around and trek back to your telegraph wires and attempt to save face with the Brazilian people, or you can trust me and forge ahead—making history alongside President Theodore Roosevelt and be hailed as Brazil’s greatest explorer.” He shrugged mockingly. “The choice is yours, Colonel Rondon, which will it be?”
    Roosevelt could feel the dripping distain Rondon felt for Martin as the two men stared each other down across the campfire, and yet he also admired Cândido Rondon for his leveled-headed restraint. This was not the time to pick a fight with the arrogant Englishman with hostile native warriors surrounding his camp. Roosevelt empathized deeply with the Brazilian Colonel, who was forced to stand down following this sudden challenge to his authority, and yet the mission had to continue despite such animosity—the lives of all of the expedition’s members were at stake.
    Roosevelt waved his hand. “I think it is quite clear that we are all dedicated to continuing this journey.”
    “Brilliant!” Martin said with a drip of