Across Nhambiquara Land 227 



and water, by the swollen river, while the rain beat on us, 

 and enjoyed a few minutes' talk with the cool, competent 

 officer who was doing a difficult job with such workman- 

 like efficiency. He had no poncho, and was wet through, 

 but was much too busy in getting his laden oxen forward 

 to think of personal discomfort. He had had a good deal 

 of trouble with his mules, but his oxen were still in fair 

 shape. 



After leaving the Juruena the ground became some- 

 what more hilly, and the scrubby forest was less open, 

 but otherwise there was no change in the monotonous, 

 and yet to me rather attractive, landscape. The ant-hills, 

 and the ant-houses in the trees — ^arboreal ant-hills, so to 

 speak — ^were as conspicuous as ever. The architects of 

 some were red ants, of others black ants; and others, 

 which were on the whole the largest, had been built by the 

 white ants, the termites. The latter were not infrequently 

 taller than a horseman's head. 



That evening round the camp-fire Colonel Rondon 

 happened to mention how the brother of one of the 

 soldiers with us — a. Parecis Indian — had been killed by a 

 jararaca snake. Cherrie told of a narrow escape he had 

 from one while collecting in Guiana. At night he used to 

 set traps in camp for small mammals. One night he heard 

 one of these traps go off under his hammock. He reached 

 down for it, and as he fumbled for the chain he felt a 

 snake strike at him, just missing him in the darkness, but 

 actually brushing his hand. He lit a light and saw that a 

 big jararaca had been caught in the trap; and he pre- 

 served it as a specimen. Snakes frequently came into his 

 camp after nightfall. He killed one rattlesnake which 



