A small but hard and pointed dorsal fin acts as a barb and prevents the fish from being drawn back.  While I was in Remate de Males the local doctor was called upon to remove a kandiroo from the urethra of a man.  The man subsequently died from the hemorrhage following the operation.

Largely through the danger of the attack from this scourge, though perhaps not entirely, the natives have adopted the method of bathing in use.  A plunge into the river is unheard of, and bath-houses are constructed so as to make this unnecessary.  A hole about eighteen inches square is cut in the middle of the floor—­built immediately above the water—­through which the bather, provided with a calabash or gourd of the bread-fruit tree, dips water up and pours it over himself after he has first examined it carefully.  The indigenous Indians, living in the remote parts of the forest, do not use this mode of protection, but cover the vulnerable portions of the body carefully with strips of bark, which render complete immersion less dangerous.

During my walks in the forest I often came across snakes of considerable length, but never found any difficulty in killing them, as they were sluggish in their movements and seemed to be inoffensive.  The rubber-workers, who had no doubt had many encounters with reptiles, told me about large sucurujus or boa-constrictors, which had their homes in the river not many miles from headquarters.  They told me that these snakes were in possession of hypnotic powers, but this, like many other assertions, should be taken with a large grain of salt.  However, I will relate an incident which occurred while I lived at Floresta, and in which I have absolute faith, as I had the opportunity of talking to the persons involved in the affair.

Jose Perreira. a rubber-worker, had left headquarters after having delivered his weekly report on the rubber extracted, and was paddling his canoe at a good rate down the stream, expecting to reach his hut before midnight.  Arriving at a recess in the banks formed by the confluence of a small creek called Igarape do Inferno, or the Creek of Hell, he thought that he heard the noise of some game, probably a deer or tapir, drinking, and he silently ran his canoe to the shore, where he fastened it to a branch, at the same time holding his rifle in readiness.  Finally, as he saw nothing, he returned to the canoe and continued his way down-stream.

Hardly more than ten yards from the spot, he stopped again and listened.  He heard only the distant howling of a monkey.  This he was used to on his nightly trips.  No! there was something else!  He could not say it was a sound.  It was a strange something that called him back to the bank that he had left but a few minutes before.  He fastened his canoe again to the same branch and crept up to the same place, feeling very uneasy and uncomfortable, but seeing nothing that could alarm him—­nothing that he could draw the bead of his rifle on.  Yet,