Early the next morning they went back to the ruins of their hut to inspect the snake. They found it, a mound of shimmering color, near the pile of ashes and it was, of course, dead. David’s shot had struck it fairly in the head. It was of a greenish brown color with small black spots and mottlings on its back. When, after a good deal of tugging they succeeded in straightening it on the ground and paced the distance from head to tail, they found that it was in the neighborhood of thirty-two feet long. The weight, they estimated, was not less than three hundred pounds, for it had a girth of over two feet in the thickest part of its body and was very heavy. “I wish we could save the skin,” David said, regretfully, “but we can’t cure it and it’s too cumbersome to carry.” Miguel tried to lessen his disappointment. “It’s all scorched and burned anyway. I’m glad it didn’t get us; it could have crushed us into jelly in a moment.” “What about the other one?” David asked. The Brazilian looked around uneasily. “Let’s get busy on the raft,” he said. “One snake is enough for me. We might not be so lucky another time.” It required two more days to complete the raft. They rolled and pushed the bamboo poles to the very edge of the water and then began the work of constructing their craft. First they spread a layer of the bamboos on the ground; then they bound them together securely with the fiber rope, weaving the cables back and forth, until they had what resembled a huge mat. Upon this they placed a second layer across the first and fastened it into place. A third was carefully tied on top of this and after that a fourth. The raft was two feet thick when it was finished. It had a length of twenty feet and a width of eight; they felt sure that it was ample to carry their weight without submerging to the level of the water. When it was finished they cut stout poles and using them as levers, pried it into the stream, and tied it with one of the ropes. “The water is rising,” Miguel announced joyfully. “If it keeps up until morning we can start.” David looked down the angry stretch in front of them. Many of the rocks that had protruded above the surface were now submerged. Patches of rolling, oily-looking water marked the spots where they were concealed. On a whole, the river was still a swirling, roaring flood that only the direst necessity could induce anyone to navigate. But there must be no hesitation, no delay. A single day lost might mean the falling of the water and the restoration of the cataracts to their former fury. These thoughts came to both men as they surveyed the craft upon the behavior of which their lives depended, and then gazed at the stream to whose whims they would be exposed before the passing of many hours. And the same thoughts recurred to them more forcibly the next morning, when they hastened to the water’s edge with a feeling of eagerness tempered with many misgivings. The raft was gone.