Here we
searched the border and found traces of color beyond dispute.
More--Jeff suddenly held up an unlooked-for trophy.
It was only a rag, a long, raveled fragment of cloth. But it was
a well-woven fabric, with a pattern, and of a clear scarlet that the
water had not faded. No savage tribe that we had heard of made
such fabrics.
The guide stood serenely on the bank, well pleased with our
excitement.
"One day blue--one day red--one day green," he told us, and
pulled from his pouch another strip of bright-hued cloth.
"Come down," he said, pointing to the cataract. "Woman
Country--up there."
Then we were interested. We had our rest and lunch right
there and pumped the man for further information. He could tell
us only what the others had--a land of women--no men--babies,
but all girls. No place for men--dangerous. Some had gone
to see--none had come back.
I could see Terry's jaw set at that. No place for men?
Dangerous? He looked as if he might shin up the waterfall on the spot.
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