9 should be our last. We were
now fully 150 miles from the Floresta headquarters and some 120 miles
back in the absolutely unknown. That night the temperature went down
to 41 deg. Fahrenheit, a remarkable drop so close to the equator and on
such low ground, but it was undoubtedly due to the fact that the sun
never penetrates the dark foliage of the surrounding dense forests
where the swamps between the hills give off their damp exhalations.
Up to this point I had not feared the jungle more than I would have
feared any other forest, but soon a dread commenced to take hold
of me, now that I could see how a great danger crept closer and
closer--danger of starvation and sickness. Our supplies were growing
scant when we reached _tambo_ No. 9, and yet we lingered, forgetful
of the precarious position into which we had thrust ourselves, and
the violated wilderness was preparing to take its revenge.
I suppose our carelessness in remaining was due in part to the
exhausted state to which we had been reduced, and which made us
all rejoice in the comfort of effortless days rather than face new
exertions.
CHAPTER VII
THE FATAL "TAMBO NO. 9"
We were three weeks at _tambo_ No. 9 before the sharp tooth of
necessity began to rouse us to the precarious situation.
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