How Teddy Roosevelt Slew the Last Mighty T-Rex by Mark Paul Jacobs Page B
Authors: Mark Paul Jacobs
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better turn our sights to hunting while these men attend to the portage. Hungry men are dangerous men.”
“I agree wholeheartedly,” Roosevelt replied.
The portage began in earnest upon the following day’s sunrise. Rondon directed the first step, which was to move the supplies and the camp just beyond the first set of rapids. Kermit embarked on a hunting expedition with a Pareci Indian camarada named Antonio. Kermit returned a little after midday with a turkey-like bird named a Jacu, but the real hero was Antonio who bagged a huge monkey destined to be featured at the evening meal.
Heartened with the knowledge they had secured much needed fresh meat for the workers, Roosevelt grabbed his shotgun and joined Cherrie on a collecting expedition into the surrounding woods.
Wordlessly, they meandered away from the river and into the silent forest of rubber trees towering amid clusters of brilliant white lilac and wild banana. The land was essentially barren of life except for an occasional ant-thrush or tanager upon which the naturalist Cherrie made note before motioning Roosevelt onward.
After hiking an hour through the dense brush and under the sweltering afternoon haze, Roosevelt finally beckoned the ever-energetic and fit Cherrie for a merciful break. Roosevelt inspected a fallen log for biting pests before sitting down gingerly. He removed his hat and glasses and wiped his brow. He grabbed his canteen and took a long drink.
Cherrie smirked. “I see that your stamina has improved.”
“Oh, oh yes.”
“Just three weeks ago, you could barely walk five minutes before requesting rest.”
“Asthma, my friend, asthma… This heat is intolerable.”
“And a few inches off your waist helps also, does it not?”
Roosevelt rubbed his belly. “I’ve probably lost twenty-five pounds since we departed the Nyoac. My belts require some new holes and my suspenders need tightened.”
“Truly impressive, Colonel, yet how do you manage your fever?”
Roosevelt sat silently for a moment. He raised his canteen and took another gulp.
Cherrie shook his head. “Colonel Roosevelt, very few secrets are kept on an expedition through the jungle, especially when it comes to malaria. You are surrounded by men of the Amazon; they can smell its symptoms like bloodhounds. Your own son may be the only remaining victim of your poorly hidden deceit.”
“I can manage myself, thank you. Kermit has his own health problems, and he has his own duties to perform—duties he is performing quite admirably, by the way.”
“Suit yourself, Colonel, but we are all here to help. Hunting and collecting specimens in the jungle is a difficult enough task—”
“I said, I will be all right, sir.” Roosevelt leaped to his feet and replaced his hat and glasses. He snatched his shotgun and set off past Cherrie and into the woods.
They continued for another half-mile before Roosevelt slowed and halted once again. Teddy bent over breathing heavily. “One moment… George… Please!”
Cherrie sought a wide tree for shade. He placed his gun down and sat. Theodore Roosevelt joined him a moment later. Both men gulped water from their canteens and peered out and over the deep woodlands.
Finally, Roosevelt said, “Rondon is concerned that excessive hunger may inspire the camaradas to dire acts, including rebellion.”
Cherrie chuckled. “Where would these men go? Whether going backward or forward, they would still fare better under Rondon’s command. Scattering into the wilderness would be suicide. They all know the consequences of striking out on their own.”
“Still, the mind plays tricks, and hunger robs men of rational thought.”
“True, but enough of them will remain loyal to our intrepid Brazilian commander. He is a hero figure to most.”
“What Colonel Rondon fears most is the overt influence of Lieutenant Martin and Julio.”
“Martin is a lunatic and Julio is a pitiful excuse for a man, let alone any sort of
“I agree wholeheartedly,” Roosevelt replied.
The portage began in earnest upon the following day’s sunrise. Rondon directed the first step, which was to move the supplies and the camp just beyond the first set of rapids. Kermit embarked on a hunting expedition with a Pareci Indian camarada named Antonio. Kermit returned a little after midday with a turkey-like bird named a Jacu, but the real hero was Antonio who bagged a huge monkey destined to be featured at the evening meal.
Heartened with the knowledge they had secured much needed fresh meat for the workers, Roosevelt grabbed his shotgun and joined Cherrie on a collecting expedition into the surrounding woods.
Wordlessly, they meandered away from the river and into the silent forest of rubber trees towering amid clusters of brilliant white lilac and wild banana. The land was essentially barren of life except for an occasional ant-thrush or tanager upon which the naturalist Cherrie made note before motioning Roosevelt onward.
After hiking an hour through the dense brush and under the sweltering afternoon haze, Roosevelt finally beckoned the ever-energetic and fit Cherrie for a merciful break. Roosevelt inspected a fallen log for biting pests before sitting down gingerly. He removed his hat and glasses and wiped his brow. He grabbed his canteen and took a long drink.
Cherrie smirked. “I see that your stamina has improved.”
“Oh, oh yes.”
“Just three weeks ago, you could barely walk five minutes before requesting rest.”
“Asthma, my friend, asthma… This heat is intolerable.”
“And a few inches off your waist helps also, does it not?”
Roosevelt rubbed his belly. “I’ve probably lost twenty-five pounds since we departed the Nyoac. My belts require some new holes and my suspenders need tightened.”
“Truly impressive, Colonel, yet how do you manage your fever?”
Roosevelt sat silently for a moment. He raised his canteen and took another gulp.
Cherrie shook his head. “Colonel Roosevelt, very few secrets are kept on an expedition through the jungle, especially when it comes to malaria. You are surrounded by men of the Amazon; they can smell its symptoms like bloodhounds. Your own son may be the only remaining victim of your poorly hidden deceit.”
“I can manage myself, thank you. Kermit has his own health problems, and he has his own duties to perform—duties he is performing quite admirably, by the way.”
“Suit yourself, Colonel, but we are all here to help. Hunting and collecting specimens in the jungle is a difficult enough task—”
“I said, I will be all right, sir.” Roosevelt leaped to his feet and replaced his hat and glasses. He snatched his shotgun and set off past Cherrie and into the woods.
They continued for another half-mile before Roosevelt slowed and halted once again. Teddy bent over breathing heavily. “One moment… George… Please!”
Cherrie sought a wide tree for shade. He placed his gun down and sat. Theodore Roosevelt joined him a moment later. Both men gulped water from their canteens and peered out and over the deep woodlands.
Finally, Roosevelt said, “Rondon is concerned that excessive hunger may inspire the camaradas to dire acts, including rebellion.”
Cherrie chuckled. “Where would these men go? Whether going backward or forward, they would still fare better under Rondon’s command. Scattering into the wilderness would be suicide. They all know the consequences of striking out on their own.”
“Still, the mind plays tricks, and hunger robs men of rational thought.”
“True, but enough of them will remain loyal to our intrepid Brazilian commander. He is a hero figure to most.”
“What Colonel Rondon fears most is the overt influence of Lieutenant Martin and Julio.”
“Martin is a lunatic and Julio is a pitiful excuse for a man, let alone any sort of
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