ion had
come, and I wished only for action, adventure--no matter how dangerous;
and for new scenes, new faces, new dialects. In the end I conceived the
idea of going on to the Casiquiare river, where I would find a few small
settlements, and perhaps obtain help from the authorities there which
would enable me to reach the Rio Negro. For it was now in my mind to
follow that river to the Amazons, and so down to Para and the Atlantic
coast.

Leaving the Queneveta range, I started with two of the Indians as guides
and travelling companions; but their journey ended only half-way to the
river I wished to reach; and they left me with some friendly savages
living on the Chunapay, a tributary of the Cunucumana, which flows to
the Orinoco. Here I had no choice but to wait until an opportunity of
attaching myself to some party of travelling Indians going south-west
should arrive; for by this time I had expended the whole of my small
capital in ornaments and calico brought from Manapuri, so that I could
no longer purchase any man's service. And perhaps it will be as well
to state at this point just what I possessed. For some time I had worn
nothing but sandals to protect my feet; my garments consisted of a
single suit, and one flannel shirt, which I washed frequently, going
shirtless while it was drying. Fortunately I had an excellent blue cloth
cloak, durable and handsome, given to me by a friend at Angostura, whose
prophecy on presenting it, that it would outlast ME, very nearly came
true. It served as a covering by night, and to keep a man warm and
comfortable when travelling in cold and wet weather no better garment
was ever made. I had a revolver and metal cartridge-box in my broad
leather belt, also a good hunting-knife with strong buckhorn handle and
a heavy blade about nine inches long. In the pocket of my cloak I had a
pretty silver tinder-box, and a match-box--to be mentioned again in this
narrative--and one or two other trifling objects; these I was determined
to keep until they could be kept no longer.

During the tedious interval of waiting on the Chunapay I was told a
flattering tale by the village Indians, which eventually caused me
to abandon the proposed journey to the Rio Negro. These Indians wore
necklets, like nearly all the Guayana savages; but one, I observed,
possessed a necklet unlike that of the others, which greatly aroused my
curiosity. It was made of thirteen gold plates, irregular in form, about
as br