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.  My own condition was such that I had to rest and recover my breath with every few stabs of the machete.

We completed that day’s journey late in the afternoon, arriving at tambo No. 6 after taking almost an hour for the last half mile.  Jerome could now scarcely stand without my assistance.  There was no longer any attempt to disguise the nature of his sickness.  He had beri-beri, and that meant in our situation not the slightest chance of recovery.  Even with the best of care and nursing his case would be hopeless, for in these regions the disease is absolutely fatal.

We built a fire and managed to get our hammocks fastened in some fashion, but there was not a scrap of food to be had.  The heart-leaves from a young palm were chewed in a mood of hopeless desperation.

The next morning it was a task of several minutes for me to get out of the hammock and on my feet.  Jerome made several painful efforts and, finally, solved his problem by dropping to the ground.  He could not rise until I came to his assistance.  Then we two tottering wrecks attempted to carry our heavy loads, but Jerome could not make it; he cast from him everything he owned, even the smallest personal belongings so dear to his simple, pure soul.  It was heartrending to see this young man, who in health would have been able to handle three or four of his own size, now reduced to such a pitiful state.

And in my own case, the fever which I had fought off by constant use of the hypodermic needle, now swept over me with renewed violence.  The drug did not have the same effect as when I was new to the ravages of the fever.

At this point my recollections became almost inextricably confused.  I know that at times I raved wildly as I staggered on, for occasionally I came to myself with strange phrases on my lips addressed to no one in particular.  When these lucid moments brought coherent thought, it was the jungle, the endless, all-embracing, fearful jungle, that overwhelmed my mind.  No shipwrecked mariner driven to madness by long tossing on a raft at sea ever conceived such hatred and horror of his surroundings as that which now came upon me for the fresh, perpetual, monotonous green of the interminable forest.