Author's Caravan in the Heart of Matto Grosso.
We continued our march northward, the temperature in the sun being 105° Fahr. The minimum temperature had been 60° Fahr. during the night of June 17th, and 64° on June 18th. We crossed the Piraputanga River, flowing into the Rio Manso, and then passed over a magnificent flow of yellow, red and black lava, the Cambayuvah River, a tributary of the Palmeira.
The Cambayuvah flowed through a great volcanic crack 75 ft. high, the sides of the crack showing much-fissured strata in a vertical position. A smaller streamlet entered the Cambayuvah where we crossed it. Wonderfully beautiful, indeed, were the rapids among brilliantly coloured red and yellow rocks, the water winding its way among high upstanding pillars and sharp blades of laminated rock.
A beautiful waterfall tumbled over with a great noise into a pool, scooped out of an immense block of such hardened rock that even the force of that violent stream seemed to have had but little erosive effect upon it. The edges of it were as sharp as possible, instead of being worn smooth and rounded by the constant rapid flow of water. The rock had been hard baked, and was of a shiny black colour, almost as shiny as crystal. At the bottom of those picturesque rapids was a circular volcanic vent, the periphery of which had been blackened by the action of fire. The Cambayuvah followed a general course of south-east to north-west.
We camped near that enchanting spot—most picturesque, but terrible for my animals, as the grazing was poor. My mules, when let free at the end of the march, stood helpless around the camp, looking reproachfully at us, and making no effort to go far afield in order to get something to eat. The poor things were quite exhausted. I saw well that they could not last much longer. My men were constantly worrying me, and saying that we were going to sure perdition. They had become painfully home-sick, and had they not been dead-tired too—more so, perhaps, than the mules and horses—I should have expected great trouble from them. As it was, to lead on those men with persuasion and kindness was an exhausting mental effort for me. Once or twice the suggestion was made that if I did not agree to go back the way we had come I might perhaps get killed and they would return alone. When I enquired whether any of them could find their way back alone, they said "no"; so I suggested that perhaps it would be to their advantage to let me live. I might eventually see them out of that difficulty.
In all my travels I have seldom come across men more helpless at finding their way about, or realizing in which direction they had travelled. Barring Alcides, none of them had any more idea whether we had travelled south, north, east, or west of Goyaz, than the man in the moon. Naturally I did not exert myself to enlighten them unduly, for there lay my great and only hold over them. I had fully realized that I was travelling with an itinerant lunatic asylum, and I treated my men accordingly. No matter what they did or said, I always managed to have things my own way. Never by violence, or by a persuasive flow of language—the means used by the average mortal. No, indeed; but by mere gentleness and kindness; very often by absolute silence. Few people realize the force of silence on momentous occasions; but of course few people know how to remain silently silent—if I may so express it—in moments when their life is seriously at stake. Silence is indeed the greatest force a man can use, if he knows how to use it. It is certainly invaluable in exploring, when naturally one is not always thrown into contact with the best of people.
The animals strayed away during the night, and it took all the best part of four hours to recover them in the morning. Instinct is a wonderful thing. They had all travelled to a place where, over undulating country, fairly open campos, slightly wooded with stunted trees, were to be found, and where they could obtain something to eat. When we crossed those campos after our departure from camp, foliated rock showed through the surface soil in many spots, in strata either displaced and left vertical—in many cases at an angle of 38°—or in its original horizontal plane. Elsewhere dips in all kinds of directions showed that there must have been a good deal of commotion in that region when that part of the country subsided and formed the basin we were then crossing. The typical feature of all those undulations was their arched backs.
We were at a low elevation—only 1,300 ft. above the sea level. We were travelling over immense quantities of marble pebbles and volcanic débris. We there made the acquaintance of the gramadin, a plant with curved spikes, which seldom attained a height of more than one inch above the ground. It was terribly poisonous if touched.