94 THROUGH THE BRAZILIAN WILDERNESS 



the yokes; the drivers wading alongside cracked their whips 

 and uttered strange cries; the carts rocked and swayed 

 as the huge wheels churned through the mud and water. 

 As the last light faded we reached the small patches of 

 dry land at the landing, where the flat-bottomed side-wheel 

 steamboat was moored to the bank. The tired horses and 

 oxen were turned loose to graze. Water stood in the 

 corrals, but the open shed was on dry ground. Under it 

 the half-clad, wild-looking ox-drivers and horse-herders 

 slung their hammocks; and close by they lit a fire and 

 roasted, or scorched, slabs and legs of mutton, spitted on 

 sticks and propped above the smouldering flame. 



Next morning, with real regret, we waved good-by to 

 our dusky attendants, as they stood on the bank, grouped 

 around a little fire, beside the big, empty ox-carts. A dozen 

 miles down-stream a rowboat fitted for a spritsail put off 

 from the bank. The owner, a countryman from a small 

 ranch, asked for a tow to Corumba, which we gave. He 

 had with him in the boat his comely brown wife — who was 

 smoking a very large cigar — their two children, a young 

 man, and a couple of trunks and various other belongings. 

 On Christmas eve we reached Corumba, and rejoined the 

 other members of the expedition. 



