On the morning following our camping by the mouth of the Rio Kermit, Colonel Rondon took a good deal of pains in getting a big post set up at the entry of the smaller river into the Duvida.  Then he summoned me, and all the others, to attend the ceremony of its erection.  We found the camaradas drawn up in line, and the colonel preparing to read aloud “the orders of the day.”  To the post was nailed a board with “Rio Kermit” on it; and the colonel read the orders reciting that by the direction of the Brazilian Government, and inasmuch as the unknown river was evidently a great river, he formally christened it the Rio Roosevelt.  This was a complete surprise to me.  Both Lauro Miller and Colonel Rondon had spoken to me on the subject, and I had urged, and Kermit had urged, as strongly as possible, that the name be kept as Rio da Duvida.  We felt that the “River of Doubt” was an unusually good name; and it is always well to keep a name of this character.  But my kind friends insisted otherwise, and it would have been churlish of me to object longer.  I was much touched by their action, and by the ceremony itself.  At the conclusion of the reading Colonel Rondon led in cheers for the United States and then for me and for Kermit; and the camaradas cheered with a will.  I proposed three cheers for Brazil and then for Colonel Rondon, and Lyra, and the doctor, and then for all the camaradas.  Then Lyra said that everybody had been cheered except Cherrie; and so we all gave three cheers for Cherrie, and the meeting broke up in high good humor.

Immediately afterward the walkers set off on their march downstream, looking for good canoe trees.  In a quarter of an hour we followed with the canoes.  As often as we overtook them we halted until they had again gone a good distance ahead.  They soon found fresh Indian sign, and actually heard the Indians; but the latter fled in panic.  They came on a little Indian fishing village, just abandoned.  The three low, oblong huts, of palm leaves, had each an entrance for a man on all fours, but no other opening.  They were dark inside, doubtless as a protection against the swarms of biting flies.  On a pole in this village an axe, a knife, and some strings of red beads were left, with the hope that the Indians would return, find the gifts, and realize that we were friendly.  We saw further Indian sign on both sides of the river.

After about two hours and a half we came on a little river entering from the east.  It was broad but shallow, and at the point of entrance rushed down, green and white, over a sharply inclined sheet of rock.  It was a lovely sight and we halted to admire it.  Then on we went, until, when we had covered about eight kilometres, we came on a stretch of rapids.  The canoes ran them with about a third of the loads, the other loads being carried on the men’s shoulders.  At the foot of the rapids we camped, as there were several good canoe trees near, and we had decided to build two rather small canoes.  After dark the stars came out; but in the deep forest the glory of the stars in the night of the sky, the serene radiance of the moon, the splendor of sunrise and sunset, are never seen as they are seen on the vast open plains.