Little could
I know that during the time to come I was to look back upon this day
as one of easy, delightful promenading.
The four hours' march brought us to an open place, apparently a
clearing, where the _estrada_ suddenly seemed to stop. Exhausted,
I threw myself on the moist ground while the Chief explained our
position. He said that we were now at the end of the cut _estrada_
and that beyond this we would have no path to follow, though he had
somewhat explored the region farther on the year previous, during a
similar expedition. We found that the undergrowth had been renewed
to such an extent that his old track was indistinguishable, and we
had to hew our every step. When we resumed the march I received a more
thorough understanding of what the word _jungle_ really means. Ahead of
us was one solid and apparently impenetrable wall of vegetation, but
my men attacked it systematically with their heavy machetes. Slowly
we advanced, but I wondered that we made any progress at all. The
skill of these sons of the forest in cutting a pathway with their
long knives became a constant wonder to me. Where an inexperienced
person would have lost himself, looking for a round-about easy course,
these men moved straight ahead, hewing and hacking right and left,
the play of the swift blades seemingly dissolving all obstacles in
their path.
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