efore
sunrise, we were up again. I gave Miguel and his friend their full
salaries up to date and sent them back. I handed him his rifle and
cartridges, which were his own possessions, but I kept the knife as a
memento.

Even when treating men generously in Brazil you had always to beware of
treachery. I told Miguel and his friend to walk straight ahead and not
turn round. I warned Miguel not to unsling his rifle from his shoulders
until he had walked half a league. If he did while still in sight of me I
would put a bullet through him. I said it and I meant it.

CHAPTER XIX

Benedicto and Filippe show Courage--Confronted with a Mountainous
Country--Steep Ravines--No Food--Painful
Marches--Starving--Ammunition rendered useless by Moisture--The
"pros" and "cons" of Smoking--A Faint Hope--A Forged Tin which
should have contained Anchovies--Curious Effects of Starvation
upon the Brain--Where Money is of no Avail--Why there was Nothing
to eat in the Forest--The Sauba Ants--Sniffed by a
Jaguar--Filippe tries to commit Suicide.

THE departure of those two men added much to our troubles. I had to
abandon at that spot all the unused photographic plates, my sextant and a
large prismatic compass, half the supply of cartridges we had taken with
us, a pair of extra shoes, and a number of other things. With our reduced
loads we made an early start, Filippe that day behaving very bravely.

"Never mind," said he; "if all the others are afraid, I am not. I will
follow you anywhere. After all, nothing can happen to us worse than
death. You have always behaved kindly to me, and I will never abandon
you."

Both Filippe and Benedicto were still poorly, but the violent exertion of
the previous day had done them good and their condition seemed to have
slightly improved.

We started once more across the virgin forest, directing our steps due
west. Filippe this time undertook to open the _picada_, while I, compass
in hand, marched directly behind him, Benedicto following me. Filippe,
who was unaccustomed to go through the forest, was even worse than Miguel
for keeping the correct direction. If I had let him go, he would have
described circle after circle upon himself instead of going in a straight
line.

From that point our march across the forest became tragic. Perhaps I can
do nothing better than reproduce almost word by word the entries in my
diary.

We ate that morning what little