We were now right in tropical surroundings, and the beautiful palms and ferns, not to mention the magnificent butterflies of all colours, were a grateful contrast to the scenery we had been accustomed to since we left Sorata.  We were now only about two thousand feet above sea level, and the weather was very hot indeed, mosquitoes and other worrying insects were very plentiful; but, bad as they can be, they seemed trivial troubles compared with what we had come through.  At this “puesto” we were better treated, as we obtained vegetables, bananas, and oranges, and with our tinned stuffs made quite a decent repast.  The place was owned by a Spaniard, and he, along with his wife, cultivates a little piece of ground, and supplied passing travellers with general rations for both man and beast.  The place was clean in comparison with what we had been accustomed to, and we seemed to sigh a mutual sigh of content at our good luck in reaching this “oasis.”  We rested all afternoon, and got to bed early, and, although there were rats about, I slept “like a log,” I was so fearfully tired.

In the morning, however, I awoke refreshed, and with our usual punctuality got away at 6 o’clock, feeling that at last we were nearing our journey’s end, as we now directed our animals’ heads towards Copacabana, the nearest of the rubber forests belonging to my friend.  This was only three or four leagues off, and the going was somewhat improved also, so our progress was a good deal faster than usual.  During the greater part of the present journey, the weather, so far, had been fairly good, that is, taking into consideration the high regions through which we had come, but we were not fated to be so successful on this our last day.  In fact, we had not gone far, when a really characteristic tropical shower baptized us properly, and continued during the whole of the rest of the day, the result being, as may be imagined, that we arrived at “Copacabana” like the proverbial “drookit mice.”  As the path was beneath the trees all the way, we got the full benefit of the rain dripping from the branches overhanging, which was just like a shower bath all the time.  However, I got into dry clothes, and, I think, felt when I got into the Estancia house, that after all the “roughing,” the trip was, in part, compensated for by the new experiences I had gone through, making my way over these very mountainous regions at such a very high elevation.

However, I remained for over a year in the rubber districts, and had an opportunity of seeing how the work is carried on and of judging of the enormous profit which must result to the lucky owners.  Unfortunately, the climate is of the very worst, and the malaria being of a very malignant nature, is very hard on white people.  I had my full share of this “terciana,” as it is called, and sometimes wonder how I really managed to work my way to the outside world again.

In conclusion, let me express a modest hope that the perusal of my humble effort to put personal adventures on paper may at least convey to the reader some idea of what has to be experienced if one chooses to be a wanderer like myself in remote places, and that he or she may to a certain extent enjoy the result nominally, without going through the hard work involved in the actual performance.