The first hours of morning were consecrated to a general examination of the stores, especially the precious specimens of cinchona.  Bundles were restrapped, the damp provisions laid out in the sun, and the clothing of the party, even to the most intimate garment, was taken down to the river to be refreshed and furbished up.  A common disaster had created a common cause amongst the whole troop, and with one accord everybody—­peons, mozos, interpreters, bark-strippers and gentlemen—­set in motion a grand cleaning-up day.  Napoleon-like, they washed their dirty linen in the family.  Whoever had seen the strangers coming and going from the beach to the woods, clothed in most abbreviated fashion, and seeming as familiar to the uniform as if they had always worn it under the charitable mantle of the woods, would have taken them for a savage tribe in the midst of its encampment.  It is probable they were so seen.

Thanks to the intense heat of the sun-shine, the garments and baggage of the expedition were quickly dried.  The first were donned, the last was loaded on the porters, and the line of march was taken up.  Up to noon the road lay along the blazing sands under a sun of fire.  All the members of the party felt fresh and hardy after the involuntary bath, except one of the Indians, who was affected with a kind of ophthalmia.  This attack, which Mr. Marcoy attributed partly to the glare, partly to the wet, and partly to a singular hobby peculiar to the individual of sleeping with his eyes wide open, was of no long duration.  The pain which he complained of disappeared with a few hours of exercise and with the determination he showed in staring straight at the god of day, who, as if in memory of the worship formerly extended toward him in the country, deigned to serve as oculist for the sufferer.  A little before sunset halt was made for the night-camp in the centre of a beach protected by clumps of reeds in three quarters of the wind.  The Indian porters, despatched for fish and firewood, returned suddenly with a frightened mien to say that they had fallen into the midst of a camp of savages.  The white men quickly rejoined them at the spot indicated, where they found a single hut in ruins, made of reeds which appeared to have been cut for the construction some fortnight before, and strewn with fire-brands, banana skins and the tail of a large fish.  Pepe Garcia, consulted on these indications, explained that it was in reality the camping-place of some of the savage Siriniris, but that the narrowness of the hut seemed to indicate that not more than two of the Indians, probably a man and woman, had resided there during a short fishing-excursion.

This discovery cast a shade over the countenances of the porters.  After having collected the provisions necessary for a slender supper, they drew apart, and, while cooking was going on, began to converse with each other in a low voice.  No notice was taken of their behavior, however, though it would have required little imagination to guess the subject of their parliament.  The tired eyes of the explorers were already closed, while their ears, more alert, could hear the confused murmur proceeding from the Indians’ quarter, where the disposition seemed to be to prolong the watch indefinitely.