and the
_tartarugas_, or fresh-water turtles, lay their eggs. These eggs are
laid in the months of September and October on moon-lit nights and
are somewhat smaller than the ordinary hen's egg, the yolk tasting
very much the same, but they are covered with a tough parchment-like
shell. Here on the upper Amazon the people prepare a favourite meal
by collecting these eggs and storing them for two or three weeks,
when they tear open the shell and squeeze out the yolks, mixing them
all up into a mush with the inevitable farinha. Few people, except
native Brazilians, ever acquire a relish for this remarkable dish.

I spent a whole day waiting for the elusive alligators on one of
these sand-bars, but evidently they were too wise, for they never came
within camera-range. I did, however, see some tapir-tracks, leading
down to the water's edge. After the long wait I grew discouraged,
and chose a camping place farther up the river, where I prepared
a meal consisting of turtle eggs and river water. The meal was not
absolutely undisturbed, as the air was full of a species of fly that
derives its principal sustenance from the bodies of various dead
animals always to be found through the jungle, whose teeming life
crowds out all but those fittest to survive.

I had begun my vigil before sunrise, when there are two or three hours
very cool and humid. In the dry season the dew which collects is of
the greatest importance to animal and plant life. For the tired and
thirsty wanderer, the calyx of the beautiful scarlet orchid, which
grows abundantly in this region, contains the refreshment of two or
three ounces of clear, cool water. But you must look carefully into
this cup of nature to see that no insects lurk in its depths to spoil
the draught.

I have previously described the breakfast table of the millionaire
Coronel R. da Silva, with its black beans, the dreadful farinha, the
black coffee, and the handful of mutilated _bolachas_ or biscuits. The
only variable factor was the meat, sometimes wild hog, occasionally
tapir, and very often the common green parrot or the howling monkey. At
most meals the _pirarucu_ fish appears, especially on Mondays when
the rubber-workers have had the whole of Sunday in which to indulge
in the sport of shooting this gamy two-hundred-pound fish. They carry
their _pirarucu_ to headquarters and courteously offer the best cuts
to the Coronel, afterwards cutting the rest into long strips and
leaving them