CHAPTER XVII. 
LIFE ON THE LAUNCH. 
The first slender rays of the sun were piercing 
the thick skeins of mist which hung about the 
river, and birds were beginning to call in the 
monte. The sun’s rays shone in through the 
small windows of the saloon, and one by one we, 
too, like the birds, awoke. It was 5.BO a.m., 
our usual time for getting up. In the wilds 
one quickly falls into a habit of daylight saving. 
Besides which, the dorado fishing is at its best 
in the very early morning. Our beds were on 
the floor, we two women on one side of the 
impromptu curtain that made our saloon into 
two bedrooms at night, the men on the other. 
A mosquito net, hung from a nail, was well 
tucked in round each pair of mattresses, and 
each of us was careful to have a watch, an 
electric torch, and a small bottle of citronella 
under the pillow. Let no one start for a journey 
up a tropical river without citronella : sooner 
let him go without sufficient food or clothing. 
It is the only thing that keeps sandflies and 
mosquitoes off, and unlike some other concoc- 
