He it was who with his forest-wisdom had
planned all our moves, and had mapped our course through the blind
forest, where a man could be lost as easily as on the open sea. He had
proved himself a good leader, save for the fatal mistake in delaying
our return, over-anxious as he was to render his employer, Coronel
da Silva, full and faithful service. He was extremely capable, kind,
and human, and a good friend to us all.
We had looked to him for advice in all our needs. He knew the language
of the wild beasts of the forest, he knew a way out of everything,
and at home he was a most devoted father. Now, this splendid fellow,
the sole reliance, in this vast and intricate maze, of Jerome and
myself, succumbed before our eyes to one of the dangers of the
merciless wilderness. He was beyond all hope. Nothing in our power
could to any extent add to the prolongation of his life which slowly
ebbed away. About four o'clock in the afternoon his respirations grew
difficult, and a few moments later he drew his last painful breath. He
died three hours after being bitten by the _jararaca_. For the second
time during that ill-fated journey I went to work digging a grave
with my machete, Jerome lending me whatever assistance he could in
his enfeebled state.
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