THE HIGHLAND WILDERNESS 177 



The following day we again rode on across the Plan 

 Alto. In the early afternoon, in the midst of a downpour 

 of rain, we crossed the divide between the basins of the 

 Paraguay and the Amazon. That evening we camped on 

 a brook whose waters ultimately ran into the Tapajos. 

 The rain fell throughout the afternoon, now lightly, now 

 heavily, and the mule-train did not get up until dark. 

 But enough tents and flies were pitched to shelter all of 

 us. Fires were lit, and — after a fourteen hours' fast — we 

 feasted royally on beans and rice and pork and beef, seated 

 around oxskins spread upon the ground. The sky cleared; 

 the stars blazed down through the cool night; and wrapped 

 in our blankets we slept soundly, warm and comfortable. 



Next morning the trail had turned, and our course led 

 northward and at times east of north. We traversed the 

 same high, rolling plains of coarse grass and stunted trees. 

 Kermit, riding a big, iron-mouthed, bull-headed white mule, 

 rode off to one side on a hunt, and rejoined the line of 

 march carrying two bucks of the little pampas-deer, or 

 field deer, behind his saddle. These deer are very pretty 

 and graceful, with a tail like that of the Columbian black- 

 tail. Standing motionless facing one, in the sparse scrub, 

 they are hard to make out; if seen sideways the reddish 

 of their coats, contrasted with the greens and grays of 

 the landscape, betrays them; and when they bound off 

 the upraised white tail is very conspicuous. They carefully 

 avoid the woods in which their cousins the little bush 

 deer are found, and go singly or in couples. Their odor 

 can be made out at quite a distance, but it is not rank. 

 They still carried their antlers. Their venison was deli- 

 cious. 



