Matters looked bad. We camped that night near a little streamlet at the point where it had its birth. We still had plenty of food left, notwithstanding what they had thrown away. I warned them that if they threw away any more we should certainly all die of starvation. During the night one of the Indians ran away carrying with him a quantity of our provisions.
On August 27th I once more proceeded on the march westward, this time with no picada at all to follow, but cutting our way all the time through the forest. Mr. Julio Nery, who had been sent with me, was an enthusiastic and brave man, but in trying to help made us waste a great deal of energy and time. After marching eight hours we had only gone 10 kil. in the right direction, having made many deviations in order to find what he called a more suitable way. We travelled occasionally over thickly wooded, slightly undulating country, but generally the land was flat.
Apiacar Boy.
Apiacar Indian.
In the afternoon, when we arrived at the foot of a small hill, we were caught in a drenching storm, the foliage letting the water down upon us in profusion. The walking became heavy. In order to make the loads lighter, my men had removed from the packages the waterproof coverings I had made for them from waterproof sheets. The result was that in that storm nearly our entire supply of salt—some 50 lb. of it—was lost. The powdered sugar, too, suffered considerably, and became a solid sticky mass.
We arrived at a stream 10 m. broad flowing from north to south, where we had to halt, as my men said they were absolutely exhausted and could not go another step. The water of that stream was simply delicious. We killed a monkey, which my men ate eagerly for dinner.