his self-respecting fellows he was always shamelessly begging for favors.  Kermit was the only one of our party who smoked; and he was continually giving a little tobacco to some of the camaradas, who worked especially well under him.  The good men did not ask for it; but Julio, who shirked every labor, was always, and always in vain, demanding it.  Colonel Rondon, Lyra, and Kermit each tried to get work out of him, and in order to do anything with him had to threaten to leave him in the wilderness.  He threw all his tasks on his comrades; and, moreover, he stole their food as well as ours.  On such an expedition the theft of food comes next to murder as a crime, and should by rights be punished as such.  We could not trust him to cut down palms or gather nuts, because he would stay out and eat what ought to have gone into the common store.  Finally, the men on several occasions themselves detected him stealing their food.  Alone of the whole party, and thanks to the stolen food, he had kept in full flesh and bodily vigor.

One of our best men was a huge negro named Paixao Paishon—­a corporal and acting sergeant in the engineer corps.  He had, by the way, literally torn his trousers to pieces, so that he wore only the tatters of a pair of old drawers until I gave him my spare trousers when we lightened loads.  He was a stern disciplinarian.  One evening he detected Julio stealing food and smashed him in the mouth.  Julio came crying to us, his face working with fear and malignant hatred; but after investigation he was told that he had gotten off uncommonly lightly.  The men had three or four carbines, which were sometimes carried by those who were not their owners.

On this morning, at the outset of the portage, Pedrinho discovered Julio stealing some of the men’s dried meat.  Shortly afterward Paishon rebuked him for, as usual, lagging behind.  By this time we had reached the place where the canoes were tied to the bank and then taken down one at a time.  We were sitting down, waiting for the last loads to be brought along the trail.  Pedrinho was still in the camp we had left.  Paishon had just brought in a load, left it on the ground with his carbine beside it, and returned on the trail for another load.  Julio came in, put down his load, picked up the carbine, and walked back on the trail, muttering to himself but showing no excitement.  We thought nothing of it, for he was always muttering; and occasionally one of the men saw a monkey or big bird and tried to shoot it, so it was never surprising to see a man with a carbine.

In a minute we heard a shot; and in a short time three or four of the men came up the trail to tell us that Paishon was dead, having been shot by Julio, who had fled into the woods.  Colonel Rondon and Lyra were ahead; I sent a messenger for them, directed Cherrie and Kermit to stay where they were and guard the canoes and provisions, and started down the trail with the doctor—­an absolutely cool and plucky man,