“I do,” Elliot said.

“Then you know there are none in this part of the rain forest.”

Elliot nodded; he had seen no nests or spoor. “But she has everything she needs here.”

“Not everything,” Munro said. “Not without other gorillas around.”

Like all higher primates, gorillas were social animals. They lived in a group, and they were not comfortable-or safe-in isolation. In fact, most primatologists assumed that there was a need for social contact as strongly perceived as hunger, thirst, or fatigue.

“We’re her troop,” Munro said. “She won’t let us get far.”

Several minutes later, Amy came crashing through the underbrush fifty yards ahead. She watched the group, and glared at Peter.

“Now come here, Amy,” Munro said, “and I’ll tickle you.” Amy bounded up and lay on her back in front of him. Munro tickled her.

“You see, Professor? Nothing to it.”

Amy never strayed far from the group again.

If Elliot had an uncomfortable sense of the rain forest as the natural domain of his own animal, Karen Ross viewed it in terms of earth resources-in which it was poor. She was not fooled by the luxuriant, oversized vegetation, which she knew represented an extraordinarily efficient ecosystem built in virtually barren soil.*

The developing nations of the world did not understand this fact; once cleared, the jungle soil yielded disappointing crops. Yet the rain forests were being cleared at the incredible rate of fifty acres a minute, day and night. The rain forests of the world had circled the equator in a green belt for at least sixty million years-but man would have cleared them within twenty years.

This widespread destruction had caused some alarm Ross did not share. She doubted that the world climate would change or the atmospheric oxygen be reduced. Ross was not an alarmist, and not impressed by the calculations of those who were. The only reason she felt uneasy was that the forest was so little understood. A clearing rate of fifty acres a minute meant that plant and animal species were becoming extinct at the incredible rate of one species per hour. Life forms that had evolved for millions of years were being wiped out

* The rain forest ecosystem is an energy utilization complex far more efficient than any energy conversion system developed by man. See C. F. Higgins et at., Energy Resources and Ecosystem Utilization (Englewood Cliffs, N.J. Prentice Hall, 1977). pp. 232-255.

every few minutes, and no one could predict the consequences of this stupendous rate of destruction. The extinction of species was proceeding much faster than anybody recognized, and the publicized lists of “endangered” species told only a fraction of the story; the disaster extended all the way down the animal phyla to insects, worms, and mosses.

The reality was that entire ecosystems were being destroyed by man without a care or a backward glance. And these ecosystems were for the most part mysterious, poorly understood. Karen Ross felt herself plunged into a world entirely different from the exploitable world of mineral resources; this was an environment in which plant life reigned supreme. It was no wonder, she thought, that the Egyptians called this the Land of Trees. The rain forest provided a hothouse environment for plant life, an environment in which gigantic plants were much superior to-and much favored over-mammals, including the insignificant human mammals who were now picking their way through its perpetual darkness.

The Kikuyu porters had an immediate reaction to the forest: they began to laugh and joke and make as much noise as possible. Ross said to Kahega, “They certainly are jolly.”

“Oh, no,” Kahega said. “They are warning.”

“Warning?”

Kahega explained that the men made noise to warn off the buffalo and leopards. And the tembo, he added, pointing to the trail.

“Is this a tembo trail?” she asked.

Kahega nodded.

“The tembo live nearby?”

Kahega laughed. “I hope no,” Kahega said. “Tembo. Elephant.”

“So this is a game trail. Will we see elephants?”

“Maybe yes, maybe no,” Kahega said. “I hope no. They are very big, elephants.”

There was no arguing with his logic. Ross said, “They tell me these are your brothers,” nodding down the line of porters.

“Yes, they are my brothers.”

"Ah."

“But you mean that my brothers, we have the same mother?”

“Yes, you have the same mother.”

“No,” Kahega said.

Ross was confused. ‘You are not real brothers?”

“Yes, we are real brothers. But we do not have the same mother.”

“Then why are you brothers?”

“Because we live in the same village.”

“With your father and mother?”

Kahega looked shocked. “No,” he said emphatically. “Not the same village.”

“A different village, then?”

“Yes, of course-we are Kikuyu.”

Ross was perplexed. Kahega laughed.

Kahega offered to carry the electronic equipment that Ross had slung over her shoulder, but she declined. Ross was obliged to try and link up with Houston at intervals throughout the day, and at noon she found a clear window, probably because the consortium jamming operator took a break for lunch. She managed to link through and register another Field Time-Position.

The console read: FILD TME-POSITN CHEK-10:03 H

They had lost nearly an hour since the previous check the night before. “We’ve got to go fester,” she told Munro.

“Perhaps you’d prefer to jog,” Munro said. “Very good exercise.” And then, because he decided he was being too hard on her, he added, “A lot can happen between here and Virunga.”

They heard the distant growl of thunder and minutes later were drenched in a torrential rain, the drops so dense and heavy that they actually hurt. The rain fell solidly for the next hour, then stopped as abruptly as it had begun. They were all soaked and miserable, and when Munro called a halt for food, Ross did not protest.

Amy promptly went off into the forest to forage; the porters cooked curried meat gravy on rice; Munro, Ross, and

Elliot burned leeches off their legs with cigarettes. The leeches were swollen with blood. “I didn’t even notice them,” Ross said.

“Rain makes ‘em worse,” Munro said. Then he looked up sharply, glancing at the jungle.

“Something wrong?”

“No, nothing,” Munro said, and he went into an explanation of why leeches had to be burned off; if they were pulled off, a part of the head remained lodged in the flesh and caused an infection.

Kahega brought them food, and Munro said in a low voice, “Are the men all right?”

“Yes,” Kahega said. “The men are all right. They will not be afraid.”

“Afraid of what?” Elliot said.

“Keep eating. Just be natural,” Munro said.

Elliot looked nervously around the little clearing.

“Eat!” Munro whispered. “Don’t insult them. You’re not supposed to know they’re here.”

The group ate in silence for several minutes. And then the nearby brush rustled and a pygmy stepped out.