After breakfast, the seringueiro sets about transforming the morning’s “milk” into solid rubber—in technical language, he submits the liquid to a treatment whereby it is coagulated.

He makes up a big fire with palm-nuts, which burn splendidly, as they are very rich in oil, and which give off a thick smoke. It is with this smoke that he is going to dry and cure his rubber, and as he wants it to be very dense and heavily laden with the essence of the fuel, over the fire he puts a funnel, which acts as a chimney, and draws up the smoke in a compressed cloud.

He now takes a paddle-shaped piece of wood, and dips the blade into the rubber milk. Then he holds the paddle over the funnel, revolving the blade in the smoke until the covering of rubber is thoroughly dry. Again he dips the blade into the new “milk,” and again holds it in the smoke until the sticky liquid solidifies as a coating round the foundation layer of rubber. Again and again he plunges the paddle into the “milk” and holds it in the smoke, until he has a large ball of rubber made up of layer upon layer of the material. This is cut through and the paddle removed; the rubber is then ready to go to market, and will perform the first stage of its journey thither on Saturday, when it is taken by the seringueiro to the manager’s store.

Extra large balls of rubber, or “pelles,” are made in a very similar way on poles. But instead of the poles being held by hand over the smoke, they are balanced on a roughly-made rest. A couple of pronged sticks are driven into the ground to serve as props for a horizontal bar. In the middle of this bar, which is just another bit of timber, is a noose of bush-rope. The pelle is made on the middle part of a separate pole. One end of this pole is slipped through the noose until the coating of rubber in the centre is well over the smoke; the other end is supported by hand, with or without the assistance of another noose of bush-rope hanging from the roof. The seringueiro turns the pole round and round, always keeping it in such a position that the growing ball of rubber, which he frequently feeds with milk, is twirled about in the smoke.

You are wondering, I expect, how the seringueiros get paid. They are all run by men of capital, called “aviadores.” The aviador lives at one of the commercial centres of the Amazon rubber industry, such as Para or Manaos in Brazil. His business is to arrange for labourers to go up into the rubber districts, to supply them with anything and everything they want in the way of stores and outfit, and, if necessary, to advance them the money for their journey. His busiest time is in the early part of the year, because all new hands start off for the forests about March or April. They can then reach the scene of their labours towards the middle of May, when the rubber-gathering season begins.

All the labourers start off in debt to some aviador. When they reach the seringal which is their particular destination, the manager there instals them in one of the huts, and tells them which estrada or estradas they are to work. Often one man is given two estradas, which are to be worked on alternate days, so that the trees can have a little longer rest between milking-times.

The first job everyone has to do is to lend a hand in clearing the estradas—and very hard work this is. Although the paths are old cuttings, they are blocked with a tangle of undergrowth. They have not been used since last December, when the Amazon, as usual, began its big annual rise, and overflowed its banks with a far-reaching volume of water. Since then the forests have been impassable, therefore work has been impossible until this month of May, when the lands are once more uncovered; meanwhile, tropical vegetation has sprung up and run riot along the paths.

When the estradas have been re-cleared—also some new ones may be cut, if sufficient labourers have come up to make further development possible—tapping begins. You have seen how the seringueiro gets the rubber and prepares it for market. When he delivers his week’s collection to the manager, the weight thereof is put to his credit, and his pelles are forwarded to the aviador who has sent him up to the seringal. The aviador sells them, and remits to the seringueiro the amount they fetch, less commission and something on account of his debt. All the rubber-gatherers take part of their dues in stores, as the aviador is general provider to the seringal.

You want to know what the seringueiros do when the flood season sets in? Some of them go away to look for work in more civilized parts of the country. But many of them are several weeks’ journey away from any town, or from any part of the country where farming is possible. It would not be worth their while to go so far away and spend a lot of money on looking for work of a different kind, when the chances are so much on the side of their being compelled to return to rubber-gathering as the only means of earning a living. So they stop up in the flooded forests, living in the shanties which are perched on the highest stilts. They get through the long time from December to May as best they can, doing a great deal of smoking, sleeping, and idle gossiping. Sometimes they drink too much, and sometimes they fight—you expected as much? Well, although you have only had a peep at the kind of life these men lead, I am sure you have seen enough to make you slow to judge them harshly.