ACROSS NHAMBIQUARA LAND 237 



brother, a hale old man of seventy, white-haired but as 

 active and vigorous as ever; with a fine, kindly, intelligent 

 face. His name is Miguel Evangalista. He is a native of 

 Matto Grosso, of practically pure Indian blood, and was 

 dressed in the ordinary costume of the caboclo — hat, shirt, 

 trousers, and no shoes or stockings. Within the last year 

 he had killed three jaguars, which had been living on the 

 mules; as long as they could get mules they did not at this 

 station molest the cattle. 



It was with this uncle's father, Colonel Rondon's own 

 grandfather, that Colonel Rondon as an orphan spent the 

 first seven years of his life. His father died before he was 

 born, and his mother when he was only a year old. He 

 lived on his grandfather's cattle-ranch, some fifty miles 

 from Cuyaba. Then he went to live in Cuyaba with a 

 kinsman on his father's side, from whom he took the name 

 of Rondon; his own father's name was Da Silva. He 

 studied in the Cuyaba Government School, and at sixteen 

 was inscribed as one of the instructors. Then he went to 

 Rio, served for a year in the army as an enlisted man in 

 the ranks, and succeeded finally in getting into the mili- 

 tary school. After five years as pupil he served three years 

 as professor of mathematics in this school; and then, as a 

 lieutenant of engineers in the Brazilian army, he came 

 back to his home in Matto Grosso and began his life-work 

 of exploring the wilderness. 



Next day we journeyed to the telegraph station at 

 Bonofacio, through alternate spells of glaring sunshine and 

 heavy rain. On the way we stopped at an aldea — village 

 — of Nhambiquaras. We first met a couple of men going 

 to hunt, with bows and arrows longer than themselves. 



