A framework of saplings tied together
with strips of _matamata_ bark was raised for a roof, and across this
were laid gigantic leaves of the _murumuru_, twenty-five to thirty
feet long. The hammocks were then strung beneath, and we managed to
keep comparatively sheltered from the nightly rain that always occurs
in these deep forests. After the frugal meal of _pirarucu_ and dried
farinha, or of some game we had picked up during the march, we would
creep into our hammocks and smoke, while the men told hunting stories,
or sang their monotonous, unmelodious tribal songs.
It must have been about two o'clock in the morning when I was awakened
by a terrific roaring which fairly made the forest tremble. Sitting
up and staring fearfully into the darkness, I heard the crashing
of underbrush and trees close upon us. My first thought was of a
hurricane, but in the confusion of my senses, stunned by the impact
of sound, I had few clear impressions. My companions were calling one
another. The noise grew louder, more terrifying. Suddenly the little
world around me went to smash in one mad upheaval. The roof of the
_tambo_ collapsed and fell upon us. At the same instant I felt some
huge body brush past me, hurling me sprawling to the ground.
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