It was a most enchanting stretch of water.  I had heard of the dangers lurking beneath its surface long before I saw it, so when I arrived there one morning I was surprised to find a placid lake, set in picturesque and romantic surroundings.  My first impulse was to exclaim, partly to myself, and partly to the Indian Joao who accompanied me, “Why, this is Lake Innocence,” so peaceful did it appear.  In fact, so much did it charm me that during the remainder of my stay at Floresta there was hardly a day some part of which I did not spend in the immediate vicinity of this lake.  But it was treacherous.  It was the home of six or seven old alligators and of young ones—­too numerous to count; the oldest reaching a length of about seventeen feet.  They would lie perfectly still under the banks, among the dead branches and snags, which made the shores generally inaccessible to boat or canoe, but when a person approached they would make their presence known by violent splashing in the water and repeated loud grunts, very much resembling those of a walrus.  Then they would burrow under the soft mud and remain quiet for an hour or two.  In the early forenoon, before the sun became too hot, they would sun themselves, but in the sweltering mid-day hours they remained buried in the mud, and were then very hard to rouse.

I found, on the shores of the lake, two alligator nests, formed of many twigs and branches stuck together, half in the water and half in the soft slimy mud.  There they deposited their eggs, oblong tough ones; and one could always count on finding the female in the neighbourhood, should one desire to visit her.  I came near stepping on one of these female alligators during a morning hunt with my camera.  I was intently examining a group of eggs I found under a cluster of branches, when I was startled by a splash in the water and a loud grunt.  As fast as the muddy ground would let me, I scrambled up the bank, and when I reached the top I saw the alligator swimming away from the very spot where I had been standing, its small close-set eyes fastened on me.  Then it disappeared in the mud.

My next encounter occurred one forenoon, when I was sitting close to the dried-up canal which formed the outlet of the lake.  It was almost mid-day.  I was sitting in the shade, safe from the blazing sun, enjoying a peaceful smoke.  The air was fairly vibrating with heat, causing the blood to surge through my veins.  Not a sound was heard except the irritating buzz of the ever-present mosquitoes.  For some time I had been aware of the slow, stealthy movement of a large body near-by, though only half consciously.  The heat made me sluggish and sleepy, but suddenly I awoke to the fact that the moving thing, whatever it might be, was near me.  Mechanically, I released the “safety” of my automatic pistol, and then realised that out of the reeds near me was creeping a medium-sized alligator.  He was making straight for the water, and I do not know whether he was cognisant