The Headwaters of the Paraguay 113 



ity — the finest ranch-house in Matto Grosso, on a huge 

 ranch where there are some sixty thousand head of 

 homed cattle — the son of our host, Dom Joao the young- 

 er, the jaguar-hunter, presented me with two magnificent 

 volumes on the palms of Brazil, the work of Doctor Bar- 

 boso Rodriguez, one-time director of the Botanical Gar- 

 dens at Rio Janeiro. The two folios were in a box of 

 native cedar. No gift more appropriate, none that I 

 would in the future value more as a reminder of my 

 stay in Matto Grosso, could have been given me. 



All that afternoon the rain continued. It was still 

 pouring in torrents when we left the Cuyaba for the 

 Sao Lourenqo and steamed up the latter a few miles 

 before anchoring; Dom Joao the younger had accom- 

 panied us in his launch. The little river steamer was of 

 very open build, as is necessary in such a hot climate; 

 and to keep things dry necessitated also keeping the 

 atmosphere stifling. The German taxidermist who was 

 with Colonel Rondon's party, Reinisch, a very good fel- 

 low from Vienna, sat on a stool, alternately drenched 

 with rain and sweltering with heat, and muttered to him- 

 self: "Ach, Schweinerei !" 



Two small ca)mians, of the common species, with 

 prominent eyes, were at the bank where we moored, and 

 betrayed an astonishing and stupid tameness. Neither 

 the size of the boat nor the commotion caused by the 

 paddles in any way affected them. They lay inshore, not 

 twenty feet from us, half out of water; they paid not 

 the slightest heed to our presence, and only reluctantly 

 left when repeatedly poked at, and after having been 

 repeatedly hit with clods of mud and sticks; and even 



