-This is Magdalena, a village of Kichai Indians. There are two clans. Seven miles away is the Thierry village. Three small tribes live there. This is all that is left of the Kichai tribe: harsh climate change, the war with the Matilones tribe because of living space; the jungle that spreads from the Sintar Pass to the Canyon of Aborning Rocks.

There is one old man – Aguilar, a sort of an elder. We had a long conversation with him while you were resting. You know, many strange things are happening here. Some ghosts are flying in the sky, transparent and silent. Alien tracks in the jungle. They do not belong to Indians or Buenaventura soldiers. On the whole, they have their ears pricked up. Hunter Saurno had noticed our capsule before the disclosure of parachutes. What good eyesight, can you imagine? Hawk eyesight doubled by an eightfold magnification of Zeiss binoculars.

This shaggy boy, by the way, is one of the sons of Saurno. He also has three daughters. And what beauties! Oh, I almost forgot. Ponce! Ponce, bring me that thing, which you were boasting about yesterday.

The boy hesitated for a while, first glancing at his calloused fingers, then at the huge Whitehouse, and getting up, ran to the last hut.

Looking at the construction on the roof of the hut, Whitehouse was surprised to see a saucer of a home satellite dish.

Melodious female voices competing in a kindly squabble could be heard nearby. Two young girls carrying water in toxic-orange buckets came from behind the granite block plastered with moss. Having suddenly remembered that he was completely naked, Whitehouse started to dress frantically. Subtle gurgling of a spring somewhere behind the block, coolness of stones, twitter and trills of hooting birds in the jungle, short slender girls, merrily grinning Al – all this in addition to burning sighs of the Great Desert seemed surreal, almost fairy-tale. Girls, continuing to descend quickly, crossing over the scattered stones sonorously laughed, seeing Whitehouse get entangled in his pants and blush in embarrassment. The echo responded to them. Dybal waved to them, and making a conspiratorial face, whispered:

-Field notes: the higher girl is Saurno's second daughter, that hunter that drove us in the storm, and whose mother nursed us. Unfortunately, I do not know the Guajiro dialect, but they somehow connect you to her in their conversations. So…

Tying the shoelaces, Whitehouse with interest stared at the elastic hips of the girl, covered by embroidered with bright beads blue jeans:

-She is cute…

-Jesus, Ronald! Did you forget how you whined in the capsule: the wife, the children are the dearest for me, will I ever see them and all that stuff. What a Casanova. – Acidly said someone right above his ear. Only Mackliff could speak like that!

John Makliff, hands on his hips, stood there as if nothing had happened, dressed in overalls with metallic shimmer as if he had just got them from the McClellan indent depot. A rapid M16A1 fire rifle and a grenade launcher, stuffed with forest litter hung on his neck; two colored jays and a small animal, looking like a rabbit were fastened to his belt. He wore a uniform NASA cap, and scratched sunglasses on his nose.

Whitehouse tightly hugged the flight engineer. He showed displeasure but then laughed happily:

– Well, well, be careful, old chap, or you will break my bones again. I should have told Unsule not to finish your treatment totally, because you're too dangerous for other people – he nodded to the two Indians that folowed him out of the jungle, and they silently marched to the huts, carrying away a shot mountain goat on the pole.