wealth--the old dream of gold in this region that has drawn so
many minds since the days of Francisco Pizarro. But to remain I
must propitiate Runi, sitting silent with gloomy brows over there
indoors; and he did not appear to me like one that might be won
with words, however flattering. It was clear to me that the time
had come to part with my one remaining valuable trinket--the
tinder-box of chased silver.

I returned to the house and, going in, seated myself on a log by
the fire, just opposite to my grim host, who was smoking and
appeared not to have moved since I left him. I made myself a
cigarette, then drew out the tinder-box, with its flint and steel
attached to it by means of two small silver chains. His eyes
brightened a little as they curiously watched my movements, and
he pointed without speaking to the glowing coals of fire at my
feet. I shook my head, and striking the steel, sent out a
brilliant spray of sparks, then blew on the tinder and lit my
cigarette.

This done, instead of returning the box to my pocket I passed the
chain through the buttonhole of my cloak and let it dangle on my
breast as an ornament. When the cigarette was smoked, I cleared
my throat in the orthodox manner and fixed my eyes on Runi, who,
on his part, made a slight movement to indicate that he was ready
to listen to what I had to say.

My speech was long, lasting at least half an hour, delivered in a
profound silence; it was chiefly occupied with an account of my
wanderings in Guayana; and being little more than a catalogue of
names of all the places I had visited, and the tribes and chief