ACROSS UNKNOWN SOUTH AMERICA 
A channel was not so easily made in that particular 
spot, as there were some boulders which we could not 
possibly move, and the canoe must be made to go over 
them. 
We had been working for only a few minutes when 
again there was a riot among my men; again they took 
to their rifles and said they would leave me and the canoe 
there. Worse luck, the canoe got stuck hard on a rock, 
and the men could not move her. I cut down some rollers 
and some levers of the hardest woods I could find in the 
forest near there, and when once I had set to work a 
little more intelligently than they did, I had no difficulty 
in moving the canoe along. Eventually, with my men 
swearing at me the whole time, the canoe was safely at 
the foot of the waterfall. 
We were in great luck that day, for we found plenty 
of wild fruit—very nutritious — and we killed one or 
two large birds. My men grumbled all the time, saying 
that they were dying of starvation, no meal being a meal 
at all in Brazil unless accompanied by a small mountain 
of feijao (black beans). I had a few boxes of sardines 
left, but I reserved those for extreme occasions which 
might yet come. 
At the bottom of the fall was an immense basin, 1,200 
metres wide and 3,000 metres long from north to south. 
The temperature was stifling that day, 96° Fahrenheit 
in the shade, and the sky overladen with clouds. 
Fourteen kilometres by river below the S. Simao came 
another waterfall, that of All Saints. 
Observations with the hypsometrical apparatus gave 
an elevation of 772 feet above the level of the sea. 
We halted above the rapid on a beautiful beach. A 
curious thing happened. Antonio, in jumping into the 
water out of the canoe, felt something sharp under his 
foot. In looking down he saw a magnificent sword. On 
taking it out of the water, we found that it was an old 
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