A little distance from the headquarters lies a beautiful lake. It is
not wider than the Itecoahy itself, four hundred feet on an average,
and is about five miles long. It runs parallel with the river, and has
only one outlet. In the dry season this amounts to nothing more than a
little rivulet across which a large fallen tree has formed a natural
bridge, but in January, when the waters rise, the creek is so full
that the servants of Coronel da Silva can wash the linen there. After
some weeks of sojourn at Floresta, I found my way to this lake, and it
was here that I was able to observe some of the largest specimens of
Amazonian reptiles in their haunts, where the equatorial sun had full
opportunity to develop an amazing growth of faunal and floral life.

It was a most enchanting stretch of water. I had heard of the dangers
lurking beneath its surface long before I saw it, so when I arrived
there one morning I was surprised to find a placid lake, set in
picturesque and romantic surroundings. My first impulse was to exclaim,
partly to myself, and partly to the Indian João who accompanied me,
"Why, this is Lake Innocence," so peaceful did it appear. In fact,
so much did it charm me that during the remainder of my stay at
Floresta there was hardly a day some part of which I did not spend
in the immediate vicinity of this lake. But it was treacherous. It
was the home of six or seven old alligators and of young ones--too
numerous to count; the oldest reaching a length of about seventeen
feet. They would lie perfectly still under the banks, among the dead
branches and snags, which made the shores generally inaccessible to
boat or canoe, but when a person approached they would make their
presence known by violent splashing in the water and repeated loud
grunts, very much resembling those of a walrus. Then they would burrow
under the soft mud and remain quiet for an hour or two. In the early