from insect wounds.  But the other two were in good condition, and, although they ate greedily of the food offered them, they had with them a big mandioc cake, some honey, and a little fish.  One of them wore a high helmet of puma-skin, with the tail hanging down his back—­ handsome head-gear, which he gladly bartered for several strings of bright coral-red beads.  Around the upper arms of two of them were bands bound so tightly as to cut into and deform the muscles—­a singular custom, seemingly not only purposeless but mischievous, which is common among this tribe and many others.

The Nhambiquaras are a numerous tribe, covering a large region.  But they have no general organization.  Each group of families acts for itself.  Half a dozen years previously they had been very hostile, and Colonel Rondon had to guard his camp and exercise every precaution to guarantee his safety, while at the same time successfully endeavoring to avoid the necessity of himself shedding blood.  Now they are, for the most part, friendly.  But there are groups or individuals that are not.  Several soldiers have been killed at these little lonely stations; and while in some cases the attack may have been due to the soldiers having meddled with Nhambiquara women, in other cases the killing was entirely wanton and unprovoked.  Sooner or later these criminals or outlaws will have to be brought to justice; it will not do to let their crimes go unpunished.  Twice soldiers have deserted and fled to the Nhambiquaras.  The runaways were well received, were given wives, and adopted into the tribe.

The country when opened will be a healthy abode for white settlers.  But pioneering in the wilderness is grim work for both man and beast.  Continually, as we journeyed onward, under the pitiless glare of the sun or through blinding torrents of rain, we passed desolate little graves by the roadside.  They marked the last resting places of men who had died by fever, or dysentery, or Nhambiquara arrows.  We raised our hats as our mules plodded slowly by through the sand.  On each grave was a frail wooden cross, and this and the paling round about were already stained by the weather as gray as the tree trunks of the stunted forest that stretched endlessly on every side.

The skeletons of mules and oxen were frequent along the road.  Now and then we came across a mule or ox which had been abandoned by Captain Amilcar’s party, ahead of us.  The animal had been left with the hope that when night came it would follow along the trail to water.  Sometimes it did so.  Sometimes we found it dead, or standing motionless waiting for death.  From time to time we had to leave behind one of our own mules.