CHAPTER VIII 



THE RIVER OF DOUBT 



ON February 27, 1914, shortly after midday, we 

 started down the River of Doubt into the un- 

 known. We were quite uncertain whether after 

 a week we should find ourselves in the Gy-Parana, or 

 after six weeks in the Madeira, or after three months we 

 knew not where. That was why the river was rightly 

 christened the Diivida. 



We had been camped close to the river, where the 

 trail that follows the telegraph-line crosses it by a rough 

 bridge. As our laden dugouts swung into the stream, 

 Amilcar and Miller and all the others of the Gy-Parana 

 party were on the banks and the bridge to wave farewell 

 and wish us good-by and good luck. It was the height 

 of the rainy season, and the swollen torrent was swift and 

 brown. Our camp was at about 12° 1' latitude south 

 and 60° 15' longitude west of Greenwich. Our general 

 course was to be northward toward the equator, by 

 waterway through the vast forest. 



We had seven canoes, all of them dugouts. One was 

 small, one was cranky, and two were old, waterlogged, 

 and leaky. The other three were good. The two old 

 canoes were lashed together, and the cranky one was 

 lashed to one of the others. Kermit with two paddlers 



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