ACROSS UNKNOWN SOUTH AMERICA 
hill range. One faint hope, involving very great danger, 
loomed in my mind. If we could only cross the river just 
above the fearsome channel we could perhaps, on the other 
side, take down the canoe by water. This plan required 
great smartness, as, had we miscalculated the speed of 
the river and the rate at which we could travel across 
that dangerous water, it would surely mean certain death. 
I spoke to my men about it. They said they were 
ready to go. I explained to them that they must paddle 
their hardest and not give way for a second until we had 
got diagonally across the fairly still waters only a few 
yards above the awful channel. Should we by misfortune 
be dragged into that channel by the current we might 
as well say good-bye to the world. 
When we started on that job we risked everything. 
My men behaved splendidly that day. They paddled 
and paddled for all they were worth, to get across the 
hundred metres or so, and took the best part of half an 
hour in the formidable current. For a moment, when 
the canoe was in the centre where the current was 
strongest and we were making no headway, I saw a bad 
look-out for us. I urged them on with shouts of " Rema! 
rema !" (Row! row!) and at last, in a desperate effort, 
the canoe once more moved forward. It was a relief 
indeed when men and baggage were safely landed on the 
opposite side. 
All were so exhausted that for a couple of hours it 
was out of the question to resume work. I occupied that 
time in taking observations for latitude and longitude, 
tortured horribly as usual by the innumerable bees and 
piums . (Latitude 8° 54' .6 south; longitude 58° 51' 
west.) 
The temperature in the sun was 107° Fahrenheit. 
The red and black volcanic rocks radiated such heat that 
we were nearly stifled in the enclosed basin which was 
formed by the hill range. 
166 
