e principal streamlet 2,600
ft. above the sea.

CHAPTER VI

Inquisitiveness--Snakes--A Wonderful Cure--Butterflies--A
Striking Scene

TWENTY-NINE kilometres from the "Merry Rest" we arrived at the little
town of Pouso Alto--duly translated "high camp"--situated 2,750 ft. above
the sea level on an elevation between the two rivers Piracanjuba, and the
Furmiga (which afterwards became the Rio Meio Ponte), throwing itself
into the Paranahyba River.

Pouso Alto was like all the other _villas_ or settlements of Goyaz, only
perhaps a little larger. The same whitewashed houses with doors and
windows decorated with blue, the same abandoned, deserted look of the
principal square and streets; in fact, another "city of the dead." Only
two men--drinking in the local store--were visible in the whole village.

The usual impertinent questions had to be answered.

"Who are you? Why do you come here? Is your country as beautiful as ours?
Have you any cities as large as ours in your country? How much money have
you? Are you married? You are English; then you come here to steal our
gold and diamonds."

"Have you any gold and diamonds here?"

"No!"

"No, you cannot travel for pleasure. The English only travel to take away
all the riches from other countries! Those instruments you carry" (a
compass and two aneroids) "are those that tell you where to dig for
gold!"

I could not help remarking to this gentleman that so far the country I
had traversed seemed merely to be rich in misery, that was all.

Nothing could be imagined more funereal than those little towns. My men
intended remaining there for the night, but I insisted on pushing on for
a few more kilometres--especially as in these places my men were led to
drink and became unmanageable. On we went for 9 kil. to the farm of
Bellianti (elev. 2,500 ft. above the sea level).

On April 8th we made an early start and travelled through a luxuriant
forest, which was daily getting more and more tropical as we went farther
north. We were, of course, do not forget, south of the equator.

Thirteen kilometres from camp we crossed the Rio Furmiga (or Meio Ponte)
about 100 yards wide, flowing there in a direction from east to west at
an elevation of 2,000 ft. Most gorgeous, richly verdant vegetation
overhung and festooned the banks of the stream.

As we went farther toward the interior the vegetation grew more
beautiful, the people more repulsive. The majority of th