Across Nhambiquara Land 219 



faintly spotted throat of this singer of our northern Junes 

 made us almost homesick. 



Next day was brilliantly clear. The mules could not 

 be brought in until quite late in the morning, and we had 

 to march twenty miles under the burning tropical sun, 

 right in the hottest part of the day. From a rise of 

 ground we looked back over the vast, sunlit landscape, the 

 endless rolling stretches of low forest. Midway on our 

 journey we crossed a brook. The dogs minded the heat 

 much. They continually ran off to one side, lay down in 

 a shady place, waited until we were several hundred yards 

 ahead, and then raced after us, overtook us, and repeated 

 the performance. The pack-train came in about sunset ; 

 but we ourselves reached the Juruena in the middle of the 

 afternoon. 



The Juruena is the name by which the Tapajos goes 

 along its upper course. Where we crossed, it was a deep, 

 rapid stream, flowing in a heavily wooded valley with 

 rather steep sides. We were ferried across on the usual 

 balsa, a platform on three dugouts, running by the force 

 of the current on a wire trolley. There was a clearing 

 on each side with a few palms, and on the farther bank 

 were the buildings of the telegraph station. This is a 

 wild country, and the station was guarded by a few sol- 

 diers under the command of Lieutenant Marino, a native 

 of Rio Grande do Sul, a blond man who looked like an 

 Englishman — ^an agreeable companion, and a good and 

 resolute officer, as all must be who do their work in this 

 wilderness. The Juruena was first followed at the end 

 of the eighteenth century by the Portuguese explorer 

 Franco, and not again until over a hundred years had 



