CHAPTER VIII 

 THE RIVER OF DOUBT 



On February 27, 1914, shortly after midday, we started 

 down the River of Doubt into the unknown. We were 

 quite uncertain whether after a week we should find our- 

 selves in the Gy-Parana, or after six weeks in the Madeira, 

 or after three months we knew not where. That was why 

 the river was rightly christened the Duvida. 



We had been camped close to the river, where the trail 

 that follows the telegraph-line crosses it by a rough bridge. 

 As our laden dugouts swung into the stream, Amilcar and 

 Miller and all the others of the Gy-Parana party were on 

 the banks and the bridge to wave farewell and wish us 

 good-by and good luck. It was the height of the rainy 

 season, and the swollen torrent was swift and brown. Our 

 camp was at about 12° i' latitude south and 60° 15' longi- 

 tude west of Greenwich. Our general course was to be 

 northward toward the equator, by waterway through the 

 vast forest. 



We had seven canoes, all of them dugouts. One was 

 small, one was cranky, and two were old, waterlogged, and 

 leaky. The other three were good. The two old canoes 

 were lashed together, and the cranky one was lashed to 

 one of the others. Kermit with two paddlers went in the 

 smallest of the good canoes; Colonel Rondon and Lyra 

 with three other paddlers in the next largest; and the doc- 

 tor, Cherrie, and I in the largest with three paddlers. The 



243 



