SILENCE OF DEATH 
alter our course to the northwest, owing to an isolated, 
impassable barrier which we left on our right (north). 
It had steep slopes but well-rounded, terminal points. It 
extended from north-northeast to south-southwest, and 
had a height of some 150 feet above the flat serradao, on 
which my skeleton-like mules wended their way among 
the stunted trees, the bells dangling from their necks 
monotonously tinkling — not the gay, brisk tinkling of 
animals full of life, as when we had left Goyaz, but the 
weak, mournful ding . . . ding . . . ding of tired, worn- 
out beasts, stumbling along anyhow. Occasionally one 
heard the crashing of broken branches or of trees col¬ 
lapsing at the collision with the packs, or the violent 
braying of the animals when stung in sensitive parts by 
an extra-violent fly; otherwise there was silence, the 
silence of death, all round us. 
The poor brutes tore mouthfuls of grass, now on one 
side, then on the other, as they went along; but the 
grazing was poor in the serradao , and the animals found 
only enough to subsist upon. Two of them were abso¬ 
lutely disabled, owing to accidents we had had; and, with 
the animals I had lost, this involved loading extra heavily 
those still able to carry. The constant collisions against 
the stunted trees in that trailless region injured the 
animals considerably and caused nasty sores and swellings 
all over their bodies. I saw well that the poor beasts would 
not last much longer. It was impossible to halt a sufficient 
time to let them recover in that particular region, with 
food so scarce; it would have taken them months. In the 
meantime our provisions were being fast consumed, or 
rather wasted, and we had thousands of kilometres to go 
yet. My men never suspected this, or they never would 
have come on; but I knew only too well. 
They still insisted on marching with their loaded 
rifles, fully cocked, resting horizontally upon their 
shoulders; and as we marched naturally in single file, 
vol. i. — 21 321 
