For the first time, too, I perceived that day a few colibris—tiny humming-birds of wonderful plumage.
Twenty-three kilometres from Goyabeira—after many ups and downs along a deep-channelled, slushy trail, and having crossed over several swampy, troublesome streamlets—we suddenly emerged into a marvellous undulating open plain with lovely grass and numerous fat cattle grazing upon it. In the distance upon the hill-side four or five farm-sheds could be perceived. We had stopped at one farm on the way in hopes of getting food, but they could only sell us some feijão—beans soaked in lard—so that it was with some haste that we directed our mules to the more imposing building in expectation of finding there at least some rice and eggs. We hurriedly crossed the plain and then the stream, and halted at the Cachoeira Grande (Grand Rapid) farm, 2,950 ft. above the sea level. A pure negro was in charge of the place, whose wife was also as black as the ace of spades. Curiously enough, they possessed a child much discoloured and with golden hair and blue eyes. Such things will happen in the best regulated countries. The black man swore it was his own child, and we took—or, rather, did not take—his word for it.
We went on thirteen more kilometres that afternoon, when we were overtaken by a hurricane and torrential rain which drenched us to the marrow of our bones. We halted for the night at the farm of Lagoa formosa (Beautiful Lagoon), 3,000 ft. above the sea level.
It was on April 12th that we proceeded to climb the dividing range between the waters flowing south into the Paranahyba (afterward called the Parana) River, and those flowing north eventually into the Amazon. This range of mountains was by some called Serra de Sta. Rita, by others Serra Dourada. It was not possible to ascertain the real name from the local people, who could tell me the names of no place, or mountain, or stream, and hardly knew the names of their own homes.
On a flat expanse some 13 kil. from Lagoa Formosa we came upon a small lake. We travelled mostly across campos (or prairies), with waters from that point flowing northward. Seventeen kilometres farther we entered the neat-looking village of Curralhino (elev. 2,600 ft.), with two squares and streets actually with names to them. We were from this point on the main route between São Paulo and the capital of Goyaz, and also met there the telegraph line between Goyaz and São Paulo.
We were getting near the capital of the province. A little more life was noticeable in this settlement than in those we had met before. Caravans of mules and horses occasionally passed through, and bullock-carts, with eighteen and twenty oxen, slowly and squeakily crept along. We were going through a region that was more than hilly—almost mountainous—the first of the kind we had encountered since leaving the railway.
Author's Caravan about to cross the River Corumba.
