Even as one was being hauled in on the line,
its comrades, seeing that it was in difficulties, attacked it at once.
I heard about these fiends but had no opportunity to witness their
ferocity until one day, in crossing the river in a dugout, we wounded
a wild hog that had also decided to cross at the same time and at the
same place. The man with the stern paddle seized his machete as he saw
the hog swimming close by the port-side of the canoe and stabbed it in
the shoulder, intending to tow it ashore and have a luxurious dinner of
roast hog. But his dream was never realised, for the _piranhas_ which
had tasted the blood, I suppose, came in large numbers and set upon
the unfortunate hog. In a minute the water seemed to be boiling, so
great was the activity of the little demons as they tore away pieces of
the flesh until it was vanishing by inches. When we reached the other
shore there was not enough left of the hog to furnish a single meal.
Later I learned that certain Indian tribes leave their dead in the
river for the _piranhas_ to strip the flesh from the bones. It is
then customary to take the remaining skeleton and let it dry in the
sun, after which it is rubbed with the juice of the _urucu_ plant
(the _Bixa orellana_), which produces a bright scarlet colour.
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