THE LONG TRAIL 



Then he would again realize my presence 

 and question me as to just how much 

 Cherrie had had. How good, faithful 

 Cajazeira waked I do not know, but when 

 his watch was due I felt him tap me on 

 the shoulder, and crawled into my soggy 

 hammock to sleep the sleep of the dead. 



Father's courage was an inspiration 

 never to be forgotten by any of us ; with- 

 out a murmur he would lie while Cajazeira 

 lanced and drained the abscesses. When 

 we got do^vn beyond the rapids the river 

 widened so that instead of seeing the sun 

 through the canyon of the trees for but a 

 few hours each day, it hung above us all 

 the day like a molten ball and broiled us 

 as if the river were a grid on which we 

 were made fast. To a sick man it must 

 have been intolerable. 



It is when one is sick that one really 

 longs for home. Lying in a hammock all 

 76 



