he indulged. Not only did he call him a half-breed, which is the
greatest of insults in the mouth of a Brazilian of white descent, but
_"curiboca"_--that is to say, half-breed negro and Indian, and of all
the insults that one man can hurl at another in this equatorial
latitude _"curiboca"_ is the cruelest.

But the monkey, who was only a humble quadruman, was simply amused at
what would have revolted a representative of humanity.

Then Torres began to throw stones at him again, and bits of roots and
everything he could get hold of that would do for a missile. Had he
the hope to seriously hurt the monkey? No! he no longer knew what he
was about. To tell the truth, anger at his powerlessness had deprived
him of his wits. Perhaps he hoped that in one of the movements which
the guariba would make in passing from branch to branch the case
might escape him, perhaps he thought that if he continued to worry
the monkey he might throw it at his head. But no! the monkey did not
part with the case, and, holding it with one hand, he had still three
left with which to move.

Torres, in despair, was just about to abandon the chase for good, and
to return toward the Amazon, when he heard the sound of voices. Yes!
the sound of human voices.

Those were speaking at about twenty paces to the right of him.

The first care of Torres was to hide himself in a dense thicket. Like
a prudent man, he did not wish to show himself without at least
knowing with whom he might have to deal. Panting, puzzled, his ears
on the stretch, he waited, when suddenly the sharp report of a gun