144 Through the Brazilian Wilderness 



hour or two. They were right, except as to the time. For 

 over a couple of hours we paddled, or anchored ourselves 

 by clutching branches close to the spot, or else drifted 

 down a mile and paddled up again near the shore, to see 

 if the body had caught anywhere. Then we crossed the 

 river and had lunch at the lovely natural picnic-ground 

 where the buck was hung up. We had very nearly given 

 up the tapir when it suddenly floated only a few rods 

 from where it had sunk. With no little difficulty the big, 

 round black body was hoisted into the canoe, and we all 

 turned our prows down-stream. The skies had been low- 

 ering for some time, and now — too late to interfere with 

 the hunt or cause us any annoyance — a. heavy downpour 

 of rain came on and beat upon us. Little we cared, as 

 the canoe raced forward, with the tapir and the buck 

 lying in the bottom, and a dry, comfortable camp ahead 

 of us. 



When we reached camp, and Father Zahm saw the 

 tapir, he reminded me of something I had completely for- 

 gotten. When, some six years previously, he had spoken 

 to me in the White House about taking this South Ameri- 

 can trip, I had answered that I could not, as I intended 

 to go to Africa, but added that I hoped some day to go to 

 South America and that if I did so I should try to shoot 

 both a jaguar and a tapir, as they were the characteristic 

 big-game animals of the country. "Well," said Father 

 Zahm, "now you've shot them both!" The storm con- 

 tinued heavy until after sunset. Then the rain stopped and 

 the full moon broke through the cloud-rack. Father 

 Zahm and I walked up and down in the moonlight, talk- 

 ing of many things, from Dante, and our own plans for 



