Up the River of Tapirs 143 



branches at a point where a drinking-trail for game led 

 down a break in the bank. The branches partially hid it, 

 and it was in deep shadow, so that it did not offer a very- 

 good shot. My bullet went into its body too far back, and 

 the tapir disappeared in the forest at a gallop as if un- 

 hurt, although the bullet really secured it, by making it 

 unwilling to trust to its speed and leave the neighborhood 

 of the water. Three or four of the hounds were by this 

 time swimming the river, leaving the others yelling on the 

 opposite side; and as soon as the swimmers reached the 

 shore they were put on the tapir's trail and galloped after 

 it, giving tongue. In a couple of minutes we saw the tapir 

 take to the water far up-stream, and after it we went as 

 fast as the paddles could urge us through the water. We 

 were not in time to head it, but fortunately some of the 

 dogs had come down to the river's edge at the very point 

 where the tapir was about to land, and turned it back. 

 Two or three of the dogs were swimming. We were more 

 than half the breadth of the river away from the tapir, 

 and somewhat down-stream, when it dived. It made an 

 astonishingly long swim beneath the water this time, 

 almost as if it had been a hippopotamus, for it passed 

 completely under our canoe and rose between us and 

 the hither bank. I shot it, the bullet going into its brain, 

 while it was thirty or forty yards from shore. It sank 

 at once. 



There was now nothing to do but wait until the body 

 floated. I feared that the strong current would roll it 

 down-stream over the river bed, but my companions as- 

 sured me that this was not so, and that the body would 

 remain where it was until it rose, which would be in an 



