CHAPTER VI. 
THE FIRST DAY’S FISHING. 
Now began our first day’s fishing, and our 
fisherman shall tell it in his own words. 
It was ten o’clock when we left the launch, 
Pedroso and I, and dropped downstream to fish 
for dorado. The little puerto where the launch 
was moored slept in the still heat. It was no 
more than a landing place, from which a track, 
orange red, made a slanting line up the steep 
cliff, and at the top was a small clearing with 
one or two houses. All round, and on both sides 
of the river, the tropical forest fell like a 
curtain. Tall trees, different tones of a sombre 
green, and delicate bamboos like immense 
feathery asparagus, were roped together by 
lianas, making impenetrable walls through 
which no man could walk a yard without cutting 
his wav. Between them ran the river, five 
hundred yards wide, deep and turbulent, a long 
way still above its summer level, coloured with 
a mixture of amber and jade, but clear and 
translucent. 
A few hours earlier, as we were steaming 
