ACROSS UNKNOWN SOUTH AMERICA 
stood gazing at us, clutching a double-barrelled gun in 
his hands. 
“ Is there a revolution in Matto Grosso? ” he inquired, 
when I caught sight of him. “ Why do you fly the red 
flag?” 
“ That is not the flag of revolution, that is the flag 
of peace. It is the English flag.” 
“ The English flag! The English flag! ” he exclaimed, 
running down the slope of the river bank. “ You are 
English! . . . Oh, sir, take me with you! I entreat you 
take me with you! I am an escaped slave. ... I owe 
my master much money. ... I can never repay it. . . . 
I am a seringueiro. My estrada is some miles down the 
river. I have been there alone, suffering, for months. I 
had no more food, nothing. There is very little fish 
in the river. The life is too terrible. I can stand it 
no more. If you do not take me with you, I shall kill 
myself.” 
I tried to persuade the strange figure to return to his 
master, who lived in comfort in the city of Cuyaba. “ If 
you chose to borrow money and sell yourself, it was only 
right that you should repay your debt.” That was the 
only way I could look at it 
But the man would not hear of it. If I did not take 
him he would kill himself — there, before me, he repeated; 
that was all. 
So difficult a dilemma to solve, at so inconvenient a 
moment, when we were as busy as busy could be, trying 
to disentangle the canoe, was rather tiresome. The 
strange man, having laid his gun upon the ground, helped 
us with all his might in our work. When the canoe got 
off, the strange man, gun and all, jumped clumsily into 
her and nearly capsized her a second time. He implored 
me with tears in his eyes to take him along. He would 
work day and night; he would present me with his double- 
barrelled gun (an old muzzle-loader) ; he did not want 
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