UP THE RIVER OF TAPIRS 155 



ordinary men, the camaradas, do not like to go into the 

 wilderness. The men who go with the Telegraphic Com- 

 mission on the rougher and wilder work are paid seven 

 times as much as they earn in civilization. On this trip 

 of ours Colonel Rondon met with much difficulty in secur- 

 ing some one who could cook. He asked the cook on the 

 little steamer Nyoac to go with us; but the cook with 

 unaffected horror responded: "Senhor, / have never done 

 anything to deserve punishment !" 



Five days after leaving us, the launch, with one of the 

 native trading-boats lashed alongside, returned. On the 

 13th we broke camp, loaded ourselves and all our belongings 

 on the launch and the house-boat, and started up-stream 

 for Tapirapoan. All told there were about thirty men, 

 with five dogs and tents, bedding and provisions; fresh 

 beef, growing rapidly less fresh; skins — all and every- 

 thing jammed together. 



It rained most of the first day and part of the first 

 night. After that the weather was generally overcast and 

 pleasant for travelling; but sometimes rain and torrid 

 sunshine alternated. The cooking — and it was good cook- 

 ing — was done at a funny little open-air fireplace, with two 

 or three cooking-pots placed at the stern of the house-boat. 



The fireplace was a platform of earth, taken from ant- 

 hills, and heaped and spread on the boards of the boat. 

 Around it the dusky cook worked with philosophic solem- 

 nity in rain and shine. Our attendants, friendly souls with 

 skins of every shade and hue, slept most of the time, curled 

 up among boxes, bundles, and slabs of beef. An enormous 

 land turtle was tethered toward the bow of the house-boat. 

 When the men slept too near it, it made futile efforts to 



