ACROSS UNKNOWN SOUTH AMERICA 
camel’s-hair blanket over me. I never slept in my clothes, 
preferring the comfort of ample silk pyjamas. In the 
morning I always indulged in my cold shower bath, two 
large buckets of water being poured by Alcides upon my 
head and back, amid the shivering yells of my trembling 
companions, who, at a distance, watched the operation, 
wrapped up to such an extent that merely their eyes 
were exposed. 
“He is mad!” I often heard them murmur, with 
chattering teeth. 
Beneath heavy, horizontal clouds low in the sky and 
ball-like cloudlets above, we started off once more from 
an elevation of 2,100 feet at the camp to proceed over a 
plateau 2,300 feet high and some six kilometres broad from 
east to west. Then we descended into another charming 
cuvette (elevation 2,100 feet), and farther on to a stream¬ 
let flowing north, the Rio Coriseo. 
We were then travelling over reddish and ochre- 
coloured volcanic sand, going through stunted and fairly 
open matto (forest), higher up at 2,250 feet in successive 
undulations crossing our route at right angles. In one 
of the depressions (elevation 2,150 feet) was a river — the 
Rio Torresino — flowing north. Quantities of yellow, 
globular, lava pellets and lumpy blocks, evidently ejected 
by a volcano, were seen. 
The stream Cabe^a de Boi, forming after the Rio 
Macacos (or River of Monkeys) a tributary of the Rio 
das Mortes, into which flowed all the rivulets we had lately 
met, was next crossed (elevation 2,130 feet). Over more 
and deep beds of ashes we journeyed at 2,270 feet on the 
southern edge of a great grassy basin extending from east 
to west. Again a delightful group of palms and healthy 
trees was in the typical depression. Ant-hills were 
innumerable on all sides. One could not help admiring * 
their architectural lines, which formed all kinds of 
miniature fortresses and castles. We were worried to 
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