In a depression (elev. 2,450 ft.) we came to a streamlet also flowing north, which had made the soil extremely swampy. We had endless trouble in getting across, the animals sinking and sticking in the black mud up to their necks. One of the mules—more reckless than the others—actually disappeared, baggage and all, while madly struggling to extricate itself from the sucking slush and mud. It took all our efforts combined to save that animal. By the time we had all got across, men, animals, and baggage were a sight worth looking at—all filthy, absolutely smothered in black mud.
We rose upon yet another dome, and then descended to the Rio Manso or Rio das Mortes, the head-waters of which were not far from there, to the south-west, in the Serra da Chapada. The river was there only 15 metres wide, but too deep and rapid for the animals to ford, so we had to follow its bank in order to find a suitable spot. The River das Mortes flowed, roughly, first in an easterly then in a north-easterly direction, and soon, swollen by innumerable streams, became the most powerful tributary of the Araguaya River, which it met almost opposite the centre of the great island of Bananal. In fact, one might almost consider the head-waters of the Rio das Mortes as the secondary sources of the great Araguaya. The Rio das Mortes flowed, at the particular spot where we met it, due north, along the edge of the great dome. The elevation of the top edge was 2,470 ft.
We camped that night on the Riberão do Boi, a swift torrent tributary of the Rio das Mortes (elev. 2,250 ft.), having marched 30 kil. that day. The cold was relatively severe during the night—the thermometer registering a minimum of 48° Fahr.
We were travelling entirely by prismatic compass. My men—who had no faith whatever in what they called the agulha (compass)—swore that we were going to sure perdition.
"How can that agulha," said they, "possibly tell you where we can find beans (feijão), lard (toucinho), and sugar bricks (rapadura)?" "It is the invention of some madman!" said one. "It will bring us to our death," sadly reflected another. "If I had only known that we should be entrusting our lives all the time to that agulha," murmured a third, pointing contemptuously to the compass, "I should have never come. Oh, my poor mother and wife! And my dear little daughter six months old! Oh, shall I ever see them again ... shall I ever see them again?" Here followed a stream of bitter tears, wiped with the ragged sleeve of his shirt.
I thought that a cold bath would do them all good. I ordered them to take all the animals and baggage across the stream. It was a job of some difficulty, owing to the very swift current. A rough bridge had to be constructed over the most dangerous part. The water was freezingly cold.
On leaving the river we at once rose again over another great dome (elev. 2,350 ft.), from which we obtained a most glorious view of other grassy domes, smooth-looking and well-rounded, with a fringe of forest in the depressions between. Down below we could see the Rio das Mortes we had left behind. It came at that spot from the south-east, and after describing an angle turned to the north-east. From the north-west, at an elevation of 2,300 ft., descended the Taperinho, a small tributary which entered the Rio das Mortes.
We went over another domed mount, where I found a spring of most delicious water emerging in a gurgle from the very summit of the dome, at an elevation of 2,400 ft. On all sides we had beautiful domed prominences with wonderful grazing land.
Alcides—careless, like all the others, with his rifle—was nearly killed that day. His rifle went off accidentally, and the bullet went right through the brim of his hat, just grazing his forehead. But we were accustomed to this sort of thing—it had happened so often—and I began to wonder when bullets would really wound or kill somebody. Indeed, we had a guardian angel over us.
