The deeper they penetrated this unearthly stillness the more they suffered from the unrelenting intense humidity."Something's fouled up, Diego," Don Sayres whispered, feeling as if his voice carried like the crack of a rifle."I'm afraid we're lost, Senor Sayres," Diego said."Something more significant than that. Where are the monkeys? Where are the birds? This place is deadly quiet."Sayres stopped walking, held up his hand. A blue-green haze hung over the rotted swamp growth. Distantly above them through a tight-woven vine canopy the sun glittered."What sort of compass reading you get, Diego? I have no idea where we are.""The needle whirls," Diego said. "Only this has not changed in the last hour." "Okay. Forget the compass." Sayres' handsome young face was masked with sweat and anxiety narrowed his eyes. He turned all the way around, not afraid, but deeply concerned. No matter where he looked, there was only matted swamp life, and his own breathing was the loudest sound."Look for some kind of high ground.
