Here we spent the night and part of the next day; doing in the morning a good five hours' work in the forest, accompanied by the owner of the place. In the afternoon of the 7th we were again under way: the river makes a bend to the east-north-east for a short distance above Paulo Christo's establishment, it then turns abruptly to the south-west, running from that direction about four miles. The hilly country of the interior then commences: the first token of it being a magnificently-wooded bluff rising nearly straight from the water to a height of about 250 feet. The breadth of the stream hereabout was not more than sixty yards, and the forest assumed a new appearance from the abundance of the Urucurí palm, a species which has a noble crown of broad fronds with symmetrical rigid leaflets.
On the road, we passed a little shady inlet, at the mouth of which a white-haired, wrinkle-faced old man was housed in a temporary shed, washing the soil for gold. He was quite alone: no one knew anything of him in these parts, except that he was a Cuyabano, or native of Cuyabá in the mining districts, and his little boat was moored close to his rude shelter. Whatever success he might have had remained a secret, for he went away, after a three weeks' stay in the place, without communicating with any one.
We reached, in the evening, the house of the last civilised settler on the river, Senhor Joaõ Aracú, a wiry, active fellow and capital hunter, whom I wished to make a friend of and persuade to accompany me to the Mundurucú village and the falls of the Cuparí, some forty miles further up the river.
