of proceeding west. I
took observations for latitude and longitude at Porto Castanho, as well
as boiling-point observations with the hypso-metrical apparatus, the
latter in order to get the exact elevation, and also to keep a check on
my several aneroids which I used on the journey merely for differential
observations.

May 9th, 1910. Boiling point, 210 deg. 3 F. Temperature of the air, 83 deg. F. =
1182 ft. above the sea level. By Aneroid, 1190 ft.

My mules having had a good rest, I was making ready to start on May
12th, when one of my men refused to come any farther. He wished to be
paid off and go. So he received his pay and went. He would probably end
his existence in that filthy little hamlet. He would never have the
energy to return to Goyaz alone. I was rather glad he had gone, as, a few
nights previously, he had fired at me while I was asleep. The bullet had
actually made a hole through the canvas of my camp bed. I had fortunately
taken the precaution to alter the position of my bed--under my tent--a
precaution I took every night, after my men had gone to sleep in their
hammocks, some distance outside. The man had evidently aimed where he
thought my head was resting. I having turned the bed around, the bullet,
fired from the man standing, went just over my ankles, perforating the
canvas quite close to them. I naturally came out of my tent to see what
was the matter, and saw the man with the rifle in his hand.

"Why did you shoot?" I inquired, as the man, evidently surprised to see
me standing before him, ejaculated disconnected words.

"I saw a huge _onca_" (a jaguar) ... "it was there ... I saw its two eyes
shining like fire...."

"Did you kill the _onca_?"

"No, it leapt away."

I advised the man, patting him paternally on the back, not to startle
everybody again. If he should see another _onca_ he had better come to
me. I seldom missed when I fired at all--as I had been able to show them
a few days before. I did not wish my men to behave like so many timid
young girls, as I wished to be able to tell people in Europe that
Brazilians were brave and noble.

"Firing in such a fashion indiscriminately," I explained to him, "you
might have even killed one of your companions! Now go to sleep like a
good fellow, and do not fire again!"

I spoke to the rascal in the gentlest of ways, never for one moment
letting him suspect that I knew he had intended that bullet to go through
my head. Nor did I ever take