.

By the light of that fire a weird and almost tragic scene took place.
Miguel came up to me, and said in a dramatic tone that for the sake of
his wife and children I must let him go back, as we were marching to sure
death. If I did not let him go back ... here he took his forehead between
his hands--"God help me!" he said, and he burst into tears. He said he
did not wish for his pay, as he had not fulfilled his contract. Whatever
he had on his person he was willing to give me if I would only let him go
back. I said I wished him to keep all his possessions, and as he did not
wish to go along with me I would certainly let him go back the next
morning. He would then also receive the pay according to the time he had
been with me. Miguel went back near the fire, where he cried for some
time. Accustomed to deal with Brazilians, I perceived that Miguel thought
my promises too good to be true.

When leaving the last camp I had improvised for myself a kind of hammock
with some straps and a waterproof canvas sheet which I had cut out of one
of my tents. I was lying in that hammock thinking, when I saw Miguel get
up, and, screening his eyes with his hand, look fixedly my way. I
pretended to be asleep.

Miguel--who, by the way, was a Christian--took the dagger from his waist
and walking to a large tree scratched a cross upon its bark. Then,
sticking the knife with force into the tree, he clasped his hands over
its handle, and bent his head over it, muttering some prayers.
Twice--perhaps thinking he was being observed--he turned round towards
me, and when he did so the expression on his face, lighted by the
flickering flame, was really ghastly.

He prayed for some ten minutes, then, with the dagger in his hand, he
walked cautiously towards my hammock. He was within 3 metres of me when I
jumped up, seizing Filippe's rifle, which I had placed by my side in the
hammock. With the butt I struck the Indian a violent blow in the chest.

He stumbled back, dropped his knife and went down on his knees touching
my feet with his trembling hands and begging my pardon. Again came more
sobs and tears; again more entreaties to be discharged. I got up and
confiscated his rifle and all his cartridges, as well as the knife, then
sent him to his hammock to sleep. The next morning I would see what I
could do.

I saw clearly that it was no use taking on a man like that, who added to
my other trials somewhat of a mental strain. The next morning, b