We
had forgotten about sewing together the flesh, and when we came
to this a boy was dispatched to the owner's house for a package of
stout needles. These were held in the fire for a few seconds, and
then immersed when cold in the sublimate before they were used to
join the flesh. By the time it was done, I was, myself, feeling very
sick. Finally I could stand the little room of torture no longer,
and left the secretary dressing the wound. Would she recover from
the barbaric operation? This question kept coursing through my head
as I vainly tried for a long time to go to sleep.
The next day, after an early observation of my patient, who seemed
to have recovered from the shock and thus gave at least this hope
of success, I spent my time going around to visit the homes of the
_seringueiros_. They were all as polite as their chief, and after
exchanging the salute of "Boa dia," they would invite me to climb
up the ladder and enter the hut. Here they would invariably offer
me a cup of strong coffee. There were always two or three hammocks,
of which I was given the one I liked best. The huts generally consist
of two rooms with a few biscuit-boxes as chairs, and Winchester rifles
and some fancy-painted paddles to complete the furniture.
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