We had been two months in the canoes; from the 27th of February to the 26th of April.  We had gone over 750 kilometres.  The river from its source, near the thirteenth degree, to where it became navigable and we entered it, had a course of some 200 kilometres—­probably more, perhaps 300 kilometres.  Therefore we had now put on the map a river nearly 1,000 kilometres in length of which the existence was not merely unknown but impossible if the standard maps were correct.  But this was not all.  It seemed that this river of 1,000 kilometres in length was really the true upper course of the Aripuanan proper, in which case the total length was nearly 1,500 kilometres.  Pyrineus had been waiting for us over a month, at the junction of what the rubbermen called the Castanho and of what they called the upper Aripuanan. (He had no idea as to which stream we would appear upon, or whether we would appear upon either.) On March 26 he had measured the volume of the two, and found that the Castanho, although the narrower, was the deeper and swifter, and that in volume it surpassed the other by 84 cubic metres a second.  Since then the Castanho had fallen; our measurements showed it to be slightly smaller than the other; the volume of the river after the junction was about 4,500 cubic metres a second.  This was in 7 degrees 34 minutes.

We were glad indeed to see Pyrineus and be at his attractive camp.  We were only four hours above the little river hamlet of Sao Joao, a port of call for rubber-steamers, from which the larger ones go to Manaos in two days.  These steamers mostly belong to Senhor Caripe.  From Pyrineus we learned that Lauriado and Fiala had reached Manaos on March 26.  On the swift water in the gorge of the Papagaio Fiala’s boat had been upset and all his belongings lost, while he himself had narrowly escaped with his life.  I was glad indeed that the fine and gallant fellow had escaped.  The Canadian canoe had done very well.  We were no less rejoiced to learn that Amilcar, the head of the party that went down the Gy-Parana, was also all right, although his canoe too had been upset in the rapids, and his instruments and all his notes lost.  He had reached Manaos on April 10.  Fiala had gone home.  Miller was collecting near Manaos.  He had been doing capital work.

The piranhas were bad here, and no one could bathe.  Cherrie, while standing in the water close to the shore, was attacked and bitten; but with one bound he was on the bank before any damage could be done.

We spent a last night under canvas, at Pyrineus’ encampment.  It rained heavily.  Next morning we all gathered at the monument which Colonel Rondon had erected, and he read the orders of the day.  These recited just what had been accomplished:  set forth the fact that we had now by actual exploration and investigation discovered that the river whose upper portion had been called the Duvida on the maps of the Telegraphic Commission and the unknown major