The next day we advanced to the village of St. Luzia, and rested at noon there in an unfinished cottage. Soon after we had unloaded our horses and I had lain myself down in my hammock intending to sleep, the guide told me that a number of people appeared to be assembling near to us, and that I ought to recollect the quarrel which we had had here in going. I got up and asked for my trunk, opened it with as little apparent design as possible, turned over several things in it, and taking out the Red Bag, placed it upon a large log of timber near to me, and then I continued to search in the trunk, as if for something I could not immediately find. When I looked up again, in a few minutes, all the persons who had assembled were gone—either the important consequences attending this bag were known,—that of having the power of making a requisition of horses, or some other idea of my situation in life was given by the sight of this magical bag. The river near St. Luzia had not yet filled. We proceeded in the afternoon and reached the banks of the river Panema, a narrow but now a rapid stream. One of the men went in to try if it was fordable, but before he was half way across he found that it would be impossible to pass, as the rapidity and depth would effectually prevent any attempt to carry the packages over upon the heads of the Indians. I desired the people to remain where they were, whilst I turned back with the Goiana guide to look for some habitation, because, owing to the commencement of the rains, sleeping in the open air would have been highly imprudent.