Evening star. [volume] (Washington, D.C.) 1854-1972, 1929-02-12

miniature sahara, bare and desolate,
yet conveniently suited for the carrying
out Of our plans. We enjoyed our sup
per in peace and then to bed.
From under our mosquito nets we
could see some of the Indian camp fires
Pickering among the distant trees on
the opposite bank. An Indian may go
to bed early, but he likes to talk over
the events of the day in every detail
before finally going to sleep. This
means that by 10 or even IL o'clock he
may be still awake. BY In the morn
ing the cold night air has crept into his
bones and few minutes near the warm
blaze of fire is necessary to restore
circulation. From midnight on till 2
am. he sleeps heavily. This was to be
our hour of action.
At midnight my entire party were up
and doing. Coffee was served and then
like the ants of the forest we started on
the baggage. In absolute silence 1t was
carried to the river and carefully put
on board the canoes. Then the tent
was folded up and by o'clock all was
ready.
Not thing was left behind on that
Sandbar, not ever piece Of paper. So
long as smooth water lay ahead Of us
We could run fully loaded without much
risk of danger. I didn't want to give
the Indians the satisfaction Of finding
so much as a stick that would suggest a
hurried retreat on our part.
Glide to Freedom.
Stealthily we pushed of from the
sandy beach and slid gently into the
rapidly moving stream of silver water.
thought the moon would prove our
undoing, but the river was too wide and
rambling to allow of our being detected:
At 80 yards could barely distinguish
the outline of the canoe behind me. At
so yards only vague shadow was WIS.,
ible. How little the Indians could see
of us from their camps more than $50
yards away can well be imagined.
The light was just sufficient for US
to steer by. Our five canoes like black
phantoms Of the night glided to free
dom down that winding course OF the
Kuluene River. For IS minutes we
hardly dared breathe. In the still night
air the slightest sound will carry over
water for q surprising distance.
After covering half mile or so pad
dies were produced, but we piled them
cautiously. Without so much as a CUR
gle we pressed them against the dark
water and never withdrew them less
the sound would betray us.
In half an hour we were well out OF
earshot. Like galley slaves we dug our
blades deep in the water and with long
sweeping strokes sent our craft bound
ing ahead. Bend after bend In the
river was left behind. Around sandbars
we skirted; through narrow channels
we shot, and the gap between us and
the Indians grew steadily wider. Soon
the darkness began to lift; daylight
grew and as the sun climbed heaven
wards we still pushed ahead without
rest or pause. Midday came and went.
One O'Clock, 2 o'clocA passed and our
five canoes continued to race forward.
After IA hours Of unremitting toll we
sought camping place for the night.
An ideal situation was found In q
small lagoon connected to the river by
the narrowest of openings. Through
this gap we padded and beached our
heavily loaded canoes on soft sandy
bank within. We were completely hid
den. Hook and line brought 16 fat
piranahas ashore in quick succession.
A fish banquet ensued and then 10
weary mortals turned in for the night.
Copyright, 1899, by the North American
Newspapt Aliance.)
I'm his next and concluding article
Comdr. Dyott tells Of his escape from
the Indians down the Xingu River to
the AmaZon.)