First he cut stout poles and fastened them to either side of two thick trees that stood about ten feet apart, by tying them to the trunks with strips of bark. Then he fastened cross-pieces to the poles, thus making a platform that was shoulder high above the ground. He piled dry palm leaves on this for a bed. After that he fastened two other poles a few feet above the platform and covered them with green palm leaves that hung down far over the sides, forming a roof. The work required only a short time and the shelter that had been provided was entirely practicable and serviceable. Miguel surveyed it proudly as he explained its good points. “It’s up high enough to be out of reach of snakes, scorpions, spiders and most of the mosquitoes; they all like to stay close to the ground. And if it should happen to rain, the roof will keep us dry,” he said. David replied that he thought it was fine and would like to try it. The springy platform with the thick layer of dry leaves would be more comfortable than the hard ground. Miguel helped him into the aerial perch and then went to hunt for the _guanabara_ root that would cure them both of the fever. He did not return until shortly before dark, and then it was only to report failure. However, he would go again the following morning. After the Brazilian, too, had climbed into the platform bed the two lay awake and talked far into the night. One plan after another of escape from their predicament was discussed, and finally sleep overtook them before anything definite had been decided on. The next day found both greatly refreshed, although David was still too ill to stand without assistance. But the change that had come over Miguel was remarkable; he cared for his companion in the best way he knew how and was most solicitous for his welfare. They ate pieces of the bird left from the previous night and then the Brazilian again went to look for the medicinal root. This time he was successful. He came back shortly before noon and announced his arrival with a shout of triumph. “Here it is at last,” he called as David peered out from under the ragged palm-leaf roof. “Look! It is the guanabara. It will cure your fever and mine. Thank _dios_, I found it!” Miguel held several fleshy roots in his hand. They resembled slender sweet potatoes, but were of a bluish color. “Let me have one,” David said feebly. “I’d eat anything to get rid of this awful feeling.” “Wait! You can’t eat it raw, because it’s deadly poison that way. It has to be fixed first. Watch me. Some time you might have to do it when you’re alone.”