186 THROUGH THE BRAZILIAN WILDERNESS 



They were red in the clay country, gray where it was 

 sandy; and the dirt houses were also in trees, while their 

 raised tunnels traversed trees and ground alike. At some 

 of the camping-places we had to be on our watch against 

 the swarms of leaf-carrying ants. These are so called in 

 the books — the Brazilians call them "carregadores," or 

 porters — because they are always carrying bits of leaves 

 and blades of grass to their underground homes. They 

 are inveterate burden-bearers, and they industriously cut 

 into pieces and carry off any garment they can get at; and 

 we had to guard our shoes and clothes from them, just as 

 we had often had to guard all our belongings against the 

 termites. These ants did not bite us; but we encountered 

 huge black ants, an inch and a quarter long, which were 

 very vicious, and their bite was not only painful but quite 

 poisonous. Praying-mantes were common, and one eve- 

 ning at supper one had a comical encounter with a young 

 dog, a jovial near-puppy, of Colonel Rondon's, named 

 Cartucho. He had been christened the jolly-cum-pup, 

 from a character in one of Frank Stockton's stories, which 

 I suppose are now remembered only by elderly people, and 

 by them only if they are natives of the United States. 

 Cartucho was lying with his head on the ox-hide that served 

 as table, waiting with poorly dissembled impatience for 

 his share of the banquet. The mantis flew down on the 

 ox-hide and proceeded to crawl over it, taking little flights 

 from one corner to another; and whenever it thought itself 

 menaced it assumed an attitude of seeming devotion and 

 real defiance. Soon it lit in front of Cartucho's nose. Car- 

 tucho cocked his big ears forward, stretched his neck, and 

 cautiously sniffed at the new arrival, not with any hostile 



