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. . . he had made many landings in tighter spaces, but flying in under the rain forest canopy was like flying into a dead-end tunnel.  He only had one shot at it, and there had better be a runway in there.

   He checked his airspeed, throttled back a few hundred RPM, and eased the joystick forward.  The plane obediently swooped downward toward the dark opening in the vast sea of green leaves and vines.  He held his breath as his trusty barnstormer punched through the darkness.  He started breathing again once his eyes adjusted to the lack of direct sunlight, and he let out a whoop of joy and relief when he saw the runway

   Not much of a runway-- short, narrow; but amazingly smooth for this remote corner of nowhere.  He killed the motor and rolled to a stop fifty feet short of the end of the runway.  He felt his heart pounding, but it wasn't the adrenalin from the landing.  He looked 'round the jungle, and there, at the end of the runway, smiling and waving frantically, was the reason he had flung common sense aside. . ..