THE RIVER OF DOUBT 281 



camp. As many of the nearest of their holes as we could 

 we stopped with fire; but at night some of them got into 

 our tents and ate things we could ill spare. In the early- 

 morning a column of foraging ants appeared, and we drove 

 them back, also with fire. When the sky was not overcast 

 the sun was very hot, and we spread out everything to 

 dry. There were many wonderful butterflies round about, 

 but only a few birds. Yet in the early morning and late 

 afternoon there was some attractive bird music in the 

 woods. The two best performers were our old friend the 

 false bell-bird, with its series of ringing whistles, and a shy, 

 attractive ant-thrush. The latter walked much on the 

 ground, with dainty movements, courtesying and raising 

 its tail; and in accent and sequence, although not in tone 

 or time, its song resembled that of our white-throated 

 sparrow. 



It was three weeks since we had started down the 

 River of Doubt. We had come along its winding course 

 about 140 kilometres, with a descent of somewhere in the 

 neighborhood of 124 metres. It had been slow progress. 

 We could not tell what physical obstacles were ahead of 

 us, nor whether the Indians would be actively hostile. But 

 a river normally describes in its course a parabola, the steep 

 descent being in the upper part; and we hoped that in 

 the future we should not have to encounter so many and 

 such difficult rapids as we had already encountered, and 

 that therefore we would make better time — a hope des- 

 tined to failure. 



