TOIL AND HARDSHIP 287 



abandoning the canoes when we found that the river 



sank into a cataract-broken torrent at the bottom of a 



canyon-like gorge between steep mountains. On April 2 



we once more started, wondering how soon we should 



strike other rapids in the mountains ahead, and whether 



in any reasonable time we should, as the aneroid 



indicated, be so low down that we should necessarily be 



in a plain where we could make a journey of at least a 



few days without rapids. We had been exactly a 



month going through an uninterrupted succession of 



rapids. During that month we had come only about 



110 kilometres, and had descended nearly 150 metres — 



the figures are approximate but fairly accurate.* We 



had lost four of the canoes with which we started, and 



one other, which we had built, and the life of one man ; 



and the life of a dog which by its death had, in all 



probability, saved the life of Colonel Rondon. In a 



straight hne northward, toward our supposed destination, 



we had not made more than a mile and a quarter a day; 



at the cost of bitter toil for most of the party, of much 



risk for some of the party, and of some risk and some 



hardship for all the party. Most of the camaradas 



were downhearted, naturally enough, and occasionally 



asked one of us if we really believed that we should 



ever get out alive ; and we had to cheer them up as 



best we could. 



There was no change in our work for the time being. 

 We made but three kilometres that day. Most of the 

 party walked all the time ; but the dugouts carried the 

 luggage until we struck the head of the series of rapids 

 which were to take up the next two or three days. The 



* The first four days before we struck the upper rapids, and during 

 which we made nearly seventy kilometres, are, of course, not included 

 when I speak of our making our way down the rapids. 



