or bushmaster (_Lachesis mutus_). The Indians, however,
call it the _couana couchi_. It is of the most beautiful colour. Its
body is brightly tinted with all the prismatic colours; and sometimes it
is to be seen coiled round the branches of a tree, ready to strike its
prey. It is allied, I should say, to the fearful _fer de lance_, which
strikes its prey with so rapid and straight a stroke that it is
impossible to escape it. A quantity of the strongest Indian red pepper
was lastly added; and as the ingredients boiled, more of the juice of
the wourali was poured in as was required. The scum having been taken
off, the compound remained on the fire till it assumed the appearance of
a thick syrup of a deep brown colour. Whether all these ingredients are
necessary, I cannot say. Others also, I believe, are occasionally used.

I should have observed that we, as well as the other Indians, were
desired to keep at a respectful distance during the operation, as it is
considered that even the vapour ascending from the pot is injurious to
health. Having been pronounced perfectly made, the syrup was poured
into a number of little pots, and carefully covered over with skin and
leaves. We observed that the two Indians who manufactured it washed
their hands and faces frequently. Pedro purchased several pots which
had thus been manufactured, as the poison is an article of commerce
throughout the country.

The Indians' hut was at some distance from the shed. After supper we
hung up our hammocks, and after turning into them, went to sleep.
Little did we think of the fearful danger we ran that night.

CHAPTER TWENTY.

ANOTHER FLIGHT.

Early the next day we arrived at Senhor Pimento's farm. The turtles
were turned into a large tank near the house, staked round so as to
prevent the creatures from getting out. Here they would live for many
months. Most of the Brazilian, as well as many of the natives' houses,
have similar reservoirs attached to them, in which turtle are kept
alive, to be taken out as required for use.

We found our two sisters seated by the bank of the lake, and little Oria
with them. They seemed somewhat agitated. Oria had been out the
previous day, they told me, in the forest to gather fruit, and had
unwisely wandered on, without waiting for Duppo, who was to follow her.
Unaccustomed to that part of the country, she had lost her way. As
evening approached, she found an Indian hut, when, the rain