coat of paint (in fact, the shells of the _urucu_ plant with which he
coloured his face and body scarlet were still lying under his hammock),
and his nose was supplied with a new set of _mutum_ feathers. He was
sitting in his hammock which was made of fine, braided, multi-coloured
grass-fibres and was fringed with numerous squirrel tails. The whole
picture was one which impressed me as being weirdly fantastic and
extremely picturesque, the reddish, flickering light from the fires
adding a mystic colour to the scene. On the opposite side of the fire
from where the Chief was sitting lay the body of the hog, and at each
end of the carcass stood the two hunters, straight as saplings, gazing
stolidly ahead. In a semi-circle, facing the Chief and surrounding the
disputants, was the tribe, squatting on the ground. The Chief motioned
to me to seat myself on the ground alongside of the hammock where he
was sitting. The men told their story, now and then looking to me for
an affirmative nod of the head. After having listened to the argument
of the hunters for a considerable time without uttering a syllable, and
regarding the crowd with a steady, unblinking expression, with a trace
of a satirical smile around the corners of his mouth, which suited him
admirably, the Chief finally spoke. He said, "The hog is mine.--Go!"

The matter was ended with this wise judgment, and there seemed to be
no disposition to grumble or re-appeal to the great authority.

My life among the Mangeromas was, for the greater part, free from
adventure, at least as compared with former experiences, and yet I was
more than once within an inch of meeting death. In fact, I think that
I looked more squarely in the eyes of death in that peaceful little
community than ever I did out in the wilds of the jungle or in my most
perilous adventures. The creek that ran near the _maloca_ supplied
the Indians with what water they needed for drinking purposes. Besides