SOUTH AMERICA, 229 

 hundred miles on purpose to get a Cayman uninjured, Third 



Journey. 



and not to carry back a mutilated specimen. I rejected 



their proposition with firmness, and darted a disdainful 

 eye upon the Indians. 



Daddy Quashi was agahi beginning to remonstrate, 

 and I chased him on the sand -bank for a quarter of a mile. 

 He told me afterwards, he thought he should have 

 dropped down dead with fright, for he was firmly per- 

 suaded, if I had caught him, I should have bundled him 

 into the Cayman's jaws. Here then we stood, in silence, 

 like a calm before a thunder-storm. " Hoc res summa 

 loco. Scinditur in contraria vulgus." They wanted to 

 kill him, and I wanted to take him alive. 



I now walked up and down the sand, revolving a dozen 

 projects in my head. The canoe was at a considerable 

 distance, and I ordered the people to bring it round to 

 the place where we were. The mast was eight feet long, 

 and not much thicker than my wrist. I took it out of 

 the canoe, and wrapped the sail round the end of it. 

 Now it appeared clear to me, that if I went down upon 

 one knee, and held the mast in the same position as the 

 soldier holds his bayonet when rushing to the charge, 

 I could force it down the Cayman's throat, should he 

 come open-mouthed at me. When this was told to the 

 Indians, they brightened up, and said they would help 

 me to pull him out of the river. 



Prepare to 



"Brave squad!" said I to myself, " ' Audax omnia take the 



Cayman 



perpeti,' now that you have got me betwixt yourselves alive. 



