File:A thousand miles in a dug-out; being the narrative of a journey of investigation among the red-skin Indians of Central Brazil (1911) (14592132250).jpg

Identifier: thousandmilesind00glas (find matches)
Title: A thousand miles in a dug-out; being the narrative of a journey of investigation among the red-skin Indians of Central Brazil
Year: 1911 (1910s)
Authors: Glass, Frederick Charles
Subjects: Caraja Indians Goiás (Brazil : State) -- Description and travel
Publisher: (Liverpool, Eng.) : South American Evangelical Mission
Contributing Library: University of California Libraries
Digitizing Sponsor: MSN

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ts on his feet. It was walkingquietly and majestically along the inner edge of theshore and had not noticed our approach. I firedat it carelessly, not so much with a desire to kill asto see what it would do. It stopped, glared roundat us, and without increasing its speed, turned offand with a few strides disappeared in the forest.The Indians are very much afraid of this kind oftiger, which is reputed to be very dangerous andbrave. Not half-an-hour afterwards we saw anotherspotted yellow and black variety on the oppositebank. We also sighted a number of deer careeringover one of the sandy shores, and the Indians weresoon after them with bow and arrows, but thenimble creatures were too quick for even an Indianhunter. We passed Capitao Erckos village about fiveoclock and some four ubds put out to meet us,but to their disappointment we did not stop. A couple of miles beyond this village is thehill of Santa Izabel do Morro, a sandhill abouttwo or three hundred feet high, rising up rather52
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IN A DUG-OUT. abruptly from the rivers edge. I had heard thatthere was an Indian cemetery here, and though thesun was rapidly approaching the horizon, andthe spot is said to be barred to the white man,I felt a strong desire to see the place and, ifpossible, to secure a snapshot of it. We stoppedthe igarite at a small clump of black rocks, fromwhich 0-di-di pointed out a very narrow, sandypath, which went straight up the hillside, withouta curve to ease the ascent. Jumping from theboat, camera in hand, I ran to the path indicatedand started climbing as fast as I could, fearing thesun might set ere I reached the summit. It wasno easy climb, owing to the loose, dry sand whichoffered no secure foothold on that steep incline,and with each step I seemed to sink back half thedistance or more. Several of the Indians, alsocurious to see the place, soon came scrambling upbehind me and arrived at the summit long before Idid. I found that the view was entrancingly beauti-ful, probably the finest

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