Two days after leaving Campos Novos we reached Vilhena, where there is a telegraph station.  We camped once at a small river named by Colonel Rondon the “Twelfth of October,” because he reached it on the day Columbus discovered America—­I had never before known what day it was!—­and once at the foot of a hill which he had named after Lyra, his companion in the exploration.  The two days’ march—­really one full day and part of two others—­was through beautiful country, and we enjoyed it thoroughly, although there were occasional driving rain-storms, when the rain came in almost level sheets and drenched every one and everything.  The country was like that around Campos Novos, and offered a striking contrast to the level, barren, sandy wastes of the chapadao, which is a healthy region, where great industrial centres can arise, but not suited for extensive agriculture as are the lowland flats.  For these forty-eight hours the trail climbed into and out of steep valleys and broad basins and up and down hills.  In the deep valleys were magnificent woods, in which giant rubber-trees towered, while the huge leaves of the low-growing pacova, or wild banana, were conspicuous in the undergrowth.  Great azure butterflies flitted through the open, sunny glades, and the bellbirds, sitting motionless, uttered their ringing calls from the dark stillness of the columned groves.  The hillsides were grassy pastures or else covered with low, open forest.

A huge frog, brown above, with a light streak down each side, was found hiding under some sticks in a damp place in one of the improvised kitchens; and another frog, with disks on his toes, was caught on one of the tents.  A coral-snake puzzled us.  Some coral-snakes are harmless; others are poisonous, although not aggressive.  The best authorities give an infallible recipe for distinguishing them by the pattern of the colors, but this particular specimen, although it corresponded exactly in color pattern with the description of the poisonous snakes, nevertheless had no poison-fangs that even after the most minute examination we could discover.  Miller and one of the dogs caught a sariema, a big, long-legged, bustard-like bird, in rather a curious way.  We were on the march, plodding along through as heavy a tropic downpour as it was our ill fortune to encounter.  The sariema, evidently as drenched and uncomfortable as we were, was hiding under a bush to avoid the pelting rain.  The dog discovered it, and after the bird valiantly repelled him, Miller was able to seize it.  Its stomach contained about half a pint of grass-hoppers and beetles and young leaves.  At Vilhena there was a tame sariema, much more familiar and at home than any of the poultry.  It was without the least fear of man or dog.  The sariema (like the screamer and the curassow) ought to be introduced into our barnyards and on our lawns, at any rate in the Southern States; it is a good-looking, friendly, and attractive bird.  Another bird we met is in some places far more intimate, and domesticates itself.  This is the pretty little honey-creeper.  In Colombia Miller found the honey-creepers habitually coming inside the houses and hotels at meal-times, hopping about the table, and climbing into the sugar-bowl.