"I should love to go," said Affonzo, and his uncle added, "He will grow up a milksop if you keep him in the nursery much longer; let him go." "It is about time we were starting now," said the Senhor. "Joachim, make ready the bag. Your uncle and I will walk on a little ahead, Affonzo, and you can follow with Joachim. But do not stray away from him, or you will miss the path, and all manner of dangers lurk in these forests." Affonzo sat lazily waiting and watching as the black put up the dinner things. "Take care of my snake skin," he said, and Joachim smiled, and replied, "That will make a fine belt for the little master when it is dried." "I should like that very much," said Affonzo. "You must make it for me." "Yes, sir," said Joachim as he swung over his strong shoulders the wicker-work hamper and game bag. "Is the young master ready to go?" "I am," Affonzo replied, and the two started down the narrow path along which the Senhor had disappeared. "What kind of a tree is that?" asked Affonzo pointing to a tall tree a hundred feet high. "That is the _castanhao_," said Joachim. "Some people call it the Brazil nut, and I have often gathered nuts from it for you to eat. The nuts grow at the very top of the tree in shells like cocoanuts, and each shell has fifteen or twenty nuts in it. Often I have thought my head was broken when a shell fell upon it." "I wonder why we don't catch up with my father?" said Affonzo. "Joachim, what makes it so dark?" "Storm coming. We must hurry," was the brief answer. Heavy clouds had gathered quickly; not a glimmer of sunlight came through the trees, and great drops of rain began to fall. "Father!" cried Affonzo, but there was no answer. "Father!" he called again and Joachim shouted, "Senhor! Senhor!" Nothing was heard but the screaming of the wind, and the rain fell faster and faster. Vivid flashes of lightning illuminated the forest, and the thunder muttered and grumbled in the distance. "Come with me quickly," said Joachim, as he seized the boy by the hand. "We mustn't stay here." "But my father," cried Affonzo and tried to get away from Joachim, but the negro held tight to him. "The Senhor can take care of himself; I must take care of you," he said, as he pulled the boy into a side path which led through the woods. They made their way with difficulty through the dense tangle of underbrush and vines. Often a swinging branch would strike Affonzo on the face, or he would tangle his feet in a swaying vine and fall full length in a bed of fern. The rain poured down in torrents, but the leaves and interlaced branches served as a shield from the great drops which pelted down like bullets. Soon they came to a small hut with a thatched roof and no door to bar the entrance. Into it Joachim pulled the boy with scant ceremony. As they entered the hut a man rose hurriedly from his grass couch, and Affonzo recognized an Indian who had often been to the Fazenda to see his father.