In the afternoon we descended a hill to find ourselves confronted by a swamp of unusual extent.  The Chief was in the lead as we crossed the swamp and we lost him from our sight for a few minutes.  While crossing this wide, slimy-bottomed place, I noticed a peculiar movement in the water near me, and soon made out the slender bodies of swamp-snakes as they whipped past among the branches and reeds.  These snakes are called by the Brazilians jararacas and are very poisonous; however, I had no fear for myself as I wore heavy buffalo-hide boots, but the men walked barefooted, and were in great danger.  I cried out a warning to Jerome, who took care to thrash about him.  We supposed that we had passed this snake-hole without mishap when we rejoined the Chief on “terra firma.”  He was leaning over, as we approached him, and he turned a face to us that was stricken with fear.  He pointed to the instep of his right foot and there on the skin were two tiny spots, marked by the fangs of the snake.  Without a word we sank to the ground beside him in despair.  The unfortunate man, with dilated eyes fixed upon the ground, crouched waiting for the coming of the pain that would indicate that the poison was working its deadly course, and that the end was near if something was not done immediately.

Losing no more time, I cried to Jerome to pour out some gunpowder while I sucked the wound.  While doing this I fumbled in the spacious pockets of my khaki hunting-coat and secured the bistoury with which I made a deep incision in the flesh over the wound, causing the blood to flow freely.  In the meantime, Jerome had filled a measure with black powder and this was now emptied into the bleeding wound and a burning match applied at once.  The object of this was to cauterise the wound, a method that has been used with success in the outskirts of the world where poisonous reptiles abound and where proper antidotes cannot be had.

The Chief stood the ordeal without a murmur, never flinching even at the explosion of the gunpowder.  Jerome and I made him as comfortable as possible, and sat sadly by his side watching him suffer and die by inches.

It is no easy thing to see a man meet death, but under these circumstances it was particularly distressing.  The Chief had been a man of a strong constitution particularly adapted to the health-racking work of a rubber-hunter.  He it was who with his forest-wisdom had planned all our moves, and had mapped our course through the blind forest, where a man could be lost as easily as on the open sea.  He had proved himself a good leader, save for the fatal mistake in delaying our return, over-anxious as he was to render his employer, Coronel da Silva, full and faithful service.  He was extremely capable, kind, and human, and a good friend to us all.