After this digression I must continue my narrative. We shot only two or three birds, and then had to hurry back to prepare for our departure. Our new canoe floated well, but was smaller than we could have wished. Over the centre was an awning of palm-leaves, under which was seated Ellen, with her black and brown attendants and her numerous pets, surrounded by our goods and chattels. Four Indians sat in the bows to paddle, while John and Domingos took it by turns to steer. Duppo had especial charge of the various pets, while I was glad to be relieved from the labour of paddling. I had my gun ready for a shot, and we kept out our books of natural history, which I wished to search through, and two or three others for reading. We were thankful to be once more on our voyage, but still we could not help looking with some interest and regret at the beautiful spot in which we had spent the last few weeks. “All on board?” cried Domingos. “On, boys, on!” and giving a shove with his pole, we left the bank and glided down the stream, our dark-skinned crew keeping time with their paddles to the monotonous song which they struck up. Although the wet season was commencing, the weather promised to be fair for a time; and we hoped soon to have Arthur on board, and to continue our voyage without interruption till we should at length fall in with those dear ones of whom we were in search.
I have already described the broad river, and the wall of strangely varied and lofty trees which border it. We kept along the left bank, not to run the risk of missing the entrance to the igarape of the recluse, as we called it.
“Do you think we shall persuade him to come with us?” asked Ellen. “I should be so delighted if we could draw him out of his strange way of life and restore him to society.”
John thought there was little chance of our doing so.
“If anybody can, I think Arthur may,” I observed.
“Then you agree with me in my notion?” said Ellen.
“It is possible you may be right,” I answered; “but yet it would be very strange.”
The recluse formed the chief subject of our conversation during the day’s voyage. At length we approached his igarape. I almost expected to see him and Arthur standing on the bank, but looked out in vain. To give them notice of our approach, I fired off my rifle. We had already made the canoe fast at our former landing-place. Ellen, John, and I were going towards the hut when Arthur appeared. “O Arthur will he come—will he come?” cried out Ellen.
Arthur shook his head. “I am very glad to see you,” he said; “but if you had delayed a few days longer perhaps he would have made up his mind. However, you must come and try what you can do.”
“And how is Maono?” I asked.