t of the room he said to his wife: "Poor
fellow! he will not be alive in another hour!"

Albuquerque was a most thoughtful Brazilian, intelligent and
well-educated, quite superior for the position he occupied there.

I was still alive on October 9th, much to the surprise of everybody, and
feeling much better. There was a great slaughter of chickens, Albuquerque
saying that I needed chicken broth badly; in fact, that day I drank cup
after cup, and it seemed to give me a little strength. Although those
chickens had a local value of about L1 sterling each, Albuquerque would
not hear of my paying for them. I knew what inconvenience it would be for
him to slaughter them in that fashion, as he could not replace them
perhaps for several months.

Good news came that day, when Albuquerque's wife entered the room saying
that some trading boats were coming up the river--she could see them a
long way off, just getting over the Capueras Falls. I decided to go up in
one of those boats as far as the Fiscal Agency at S. Manoel, where I
could obtain fresh clothes and provisions. Remaining still inside a house
I felt was killing me.

The boats did not arrive that evening. The next day, October 10th, rain
came down in sheets, so that we could not see more than a few metres in
front of us, and the wind was howling with fury.

On October 11th, when the boats approached, Albuquerque took me up in a
small canoe to them on the other side of the wide stream. It was the
trading fleet of Don Eulogio Mori, a Peruvian trader, who at once offered
all possible assistance and undertook to convey me up stream with
pleasure.

Mr. Mori, a most enterprising man, who was in charge of the expedition,
was a frank, open and jolly gentleman, most charmingly thoughtful and
civil. He and his brother had the second largest rubber-trading business
on the upper Tapajoz River.

He was amazed when I got on board and told him who I was, as the news had
already spread down the river that I had been murdered by my own men in
the forest. In fact, during my absence, when Alcides had travelled up to
the Fiscal Agency to inform them of what was happening, he had been
detained there for some days and accused with his companions of having
murdered me.

As we went up the stream once more we passed Mount S. Benedicto, with its
foliated rock in grey and red strata. Volleys were fired in honour of the
saint; more candles were deposited on the platform of rock.

When we