The following day I arose with the sun and, after some coffee, asked
a huge small-pox-scarred fellow to accompany me on my first excursion
into the real jungle. Up to this time I had only seen it from my back
porch in Remate de Males and from the deck of the launch _Carolina_,
but now I was in the heart of the forest and would indulge in jungle
trips to my heart's content. We entered through a narrow pathway called
an _estrada_, whose gateway was guarded by a splendid palm-tree,
like a Cerberus at the gates of dark Hades. The _estrada_ led us
past one hundred to one hundred and fifty rubber trees, as it wound
its way over brooks and fallen trees. Each of the producing trees
had its rough bark gashed with cuts to a height of ten to twelve
feet all around its circumference. These marks were about an inch
and a half in length. Alongside of the tree was always to be found
a stick, on the end of which were a dozen or so of small tin-cups
used in collecting the rubber-milk. Every worker has two _estradas_
to manage, and by tapping along each one alternately he obtains the
maximum of the product. This particular _estrada_ was now deserted
as the _seringueiro_ happened to be at work on the other one under
his jurisdiction.

It was in a sense agreeable to work there as the sun could not
penetrate the dense foliage and the air was therefore cool. After we
had walked for about an hour, my big guide complained of being tired
and of feeling unwell. I told him he could go back to the camp and
leave me to find my way alone. Accordingly he left me and I now had
the task of carrying without assistance my large 8 x 10 view-camera,
a shotgun, a revolver, and a machete.

Gradually my ear caught a terrible sound which to the uninitiated