"Come, son," said the Senhor early next morning. "We have a long day before us and you must eat plenty of breakfast. That is if you want to go with your uncle and me. If not, you may go back home with Joachim."

"Where are you going?" asked Affonzo as he smoothed down his linen suit, and combed his hair with a pocket comb from his dapper little uncle's case. He had washed his face in the stream which gurgled near the hut, and that was all the toilet he could make, which seemed odd to him, for he was something of a dandy.

"We are going the rounds with Vicente to see the rubber plantation, and then go home by the river."

"Do let me go with you, I am sure my mother would not object," cried Affonzo.

"I shall send Joachim home with word of your safety to ease her mind, and as you wish it so much, you may come with us; so eat and we will start."

Senhor Dias was a rubber exporter. From his plantation near Para went out huge balls of the rubber, solid, tough and brown. It is very interesting to watch the process of obtaining this from the milk-white sap of the rubber trees.

"Well, Vicente, shall we start now," said the Senhor when they had breakfasted.

"When the Senhor is ready," said Vicente.

The Indian lived by himself all the year around in his little hut. All along the Amazon these cabins may be found, hidden in the woods, and in each one dwells only a single Indian. It is a lonely and dangerous life, the climate is unhealthful, the swampy lands of the river valley where the rubber trees grow are low and malarious, and the syringuero has often to wade knee deep in mud, and work all day in wet clothing.

The Indians are trustworthy workers and many of them earn a good living. Old Vicente had worked there so long that he would not have known how to act anywhere else, but he was glad to have company on his lonely rounds. So he smiled at Affonzo as the boy skipped along, gathering one gorgeous flower after another, as merry as the sunshine after the rain.

"You'd better walk a little more slowly, and save your strength for the day's tramp," said his father. "You'll be tired by night."

Vicente guided them down a well-worn path through the marsh land. On each side were splendid trees, the rubber tree growing as high as seventy feet. The trunk, smooth and round, was covered with light-coloured bark, the leaves, oval and about a foot long, hanging in clusters of three. The fruit grows in clusters also, and consists of a small black nut which the natives like very much. Affonzo picked one up and tasted it, but made a very wry face as it was quite bitter.

Selecting a fine tree, Vicente made a deep cut in the bark with his hatchet. Below it, by means of some damp clay, he fastened an earthen cup, into which the cream-coloured sap flowed slowly.

"By to-morrow the cup will be full," he said. "And I will come again. Now we will find another."

The next tree was half a mile away and it had frequently been tapped before, for a row of incisions girdled it. Vicente emptied the cups attached to these into a large pail which he carried, and made a new gash higher up.

"Do let me tap just one tree," said Affonzo, and Vicente allowed him to do so and helped him fasten on one of the cups to catch the sap. Affonzo was delighted, and tramped along gaily, although his short legs found it difficult to keep up with the long strides of his father and uncle.

At last Vicente finished his rounds, and said, as he showed the Senhor his brimming pail, "This is all to-day. Does the Senhor wish to see it cooked?"

"Yes, I want Affonzo to see it all, as I know he will be interested," said Senhor Dias, and they all followed the Indian to a little hut, such as the one in which they had slept the night before.

"Let us eat first," said the Senhor. "Our walk has given us all appetites."

So Vicente built a fire and roasted a lagarto[4] which he had killed on the way through the forest. The delicate white flesh tasted delicious to Affonzo, and so did the bananas and oranges and black coffee, which Vicente made thick and strong as it is liked in Brazil.

Vicente then made another fire of nuts and the wood of the motacu[5] under a jug-shaped calabash, the smoke coming out through the neck. This smoke hastens the drying of the liquid rubber, and makes a better quality than can be obtained in any other way.

"I don't see how that stuff that looks like cream can ever be made like rubber," said Affonzo.

"Watch Vicente," said his father, "and you will see." As he spoke, Vicente dipped a long paddle into the liquid, and then held it over the smoke. It quickly dried and he dipped the paddle into the juice again, repeating the process of drying. This he kept up until the paddle had a thick coating of rubber, like a large, flattened ball. Then he split the ball open along one side, and pulled the paddle out.

"There now!" said the Senhor. "The rubber is all ready to go to market. Perhaps some day you will bounce a ball or wear a pair of goloshes made of this very rubber."

"Won't that be fine!" said Affonzo. "What are you going to do now," he asked, as his father rose as if to go.

"As soon as Vicente has finished cooking, we will go to the river, and go home by water," said the Senhor. "Then you will see some of the wood your uncle and I mean to export."

"That will be much better than tramping," said Affonzo, whose short legs began to be stiff and sore with all the walking he had done.

Vicente soon finished cooking his rubber, and put up the utensils before following Affonzo and the two men down the path to the river.

"Vicente is a good Indian, isn't he?" said Affonzo.

"One of the best I have ever known," said his father. "He has worked for us for years and has always been honest and reliable. It is strange that he should be so hospitable and friendly, for his ancestors and ours were always at war. When your grandfather was a young man there was always fear of the natives, and at one time there was an Indian uprising in which many Portuguese were killed. The Indians captured the city of Para, burned many of the houses, and destroyed everything they couldn't carry away with them. They held the city over a year before the Portuguese could recapture it."

"It must have been exciting to live then," cried Affonzo, who loved to read of wars and battles and thought they must be interesting things.

But his uncle said, "More peaceful times are less exciting, but far pleasanter and you would better be thankful that you live now. There is the river! How beautiful it looks!"

Affonzo had often seen the Amazon, the greatest river in the world, and had been on it in the steamers which ply between Para and MaÑaos, but he had never seen it at this point, and he exclaimed in wonder at its beauty. The river was two miles wide, and in the centre was a broad deep channel down which the water flowed slowly. On each side of this were stretches of shallow water, while on either bank grew thick forests of superb trees.

Vicente drew a canoe from a thicket about a sheltered cove and the little party embarked, Vicente paddling carefully.

"Isn't this splendid?" cried Affonzo. "I feel as if I were OrellaÑo discovering the river."

"Why, what do you know about him?" asked his uncle.

"Oh, he was fine," said Affonzo. "He was one of Gonzalo Pizzarro's lieutenants and he crossed the Andes to find cinnamon trees. He had only fifty men and they built a boat and started down the river and had a terrible time for days. At last they reached the mouth of the river, and were picked up by some Spanish ships. It told all about it in my geography."

"Did it tell how he named the river?" asked Uncle Prudente. "OrellaÑa fell in with an Indian tribe where the women fought side by side with the men; you know women soldiers are called Amazons, so he called the river 'Rio de las Amazones.'"

"See those magnificent satin-wood trees," said Senhor Dias to his brother. "Nowhere in all the world is there such wood from which to make fine furniture as here."

Then the two gentlemen fell into a talk about business plans, and Affonzo curled up in the canoe and watched the interesting things they passed. It was a scene of contrast. A native boat, one end thatched over for a house, a hammock, in which a man lolled lazily, swung across its deck, was passing by a large steamer gay with flags and striped awnings. He also saw boats laden with rubber, and many rafts made of great logs held together by long wooden pins driven through them, for their long voyage to Para.

As they continued down the stream, the thatched native huts became fewer, and there could be seen the tiled roofs of the country homes of the wealthy. It was not long before Affonzo saw, gleaming through the trees, the white walls of their own Fazenda and, landing quickly, he bade good-by to Vicente, and rushed across the lawn to tell all his adventures to his mother and Lola.