The negotiations proceeded smoothly as before until it became necessary to disclose his destination. Then the Brazilian absolutely refused to go any further with the matter. Nor could he be swayed from his determination. He would go anywhere, even to Santa Isabel or the Cassiquiare that connects the Rio Negro with the Orinoco--trips of many weeks’ duration. But to Las Palmas? “Never!” most emphatically. David was more crestfallen than ever as he went in search of the third man. “There is something very mysterious about all this,” he thought. “If it is really such an awful place I had better keep away from it. But I have to see it first. I can leave if I don’t like it--that is, if I ever get there.” The interview with launch owner number three was shorter than the other two. This man was gruff, even discourteous, and wanted to know first of all where he wanted to go. And when David told him, he simply shrugged his shoulders, said “No,” and walked away. There were still others to be seen, but David decided that he had had enough for one day. He walked to the river and looked across the broad expanse of water, ruffled by the breeze, muddy, and gliding along majestically and silently as if fully aware of its awe-inspiring grandeur and power. Where did all that water come from? Where was it going? What secrets were locked up in the pitiless flood? What strange and unknown denizens lurked in its dark depths? And, what treasures were strewn upon the bottom of the bed over which this torrent rushed, heedlessly, relentlessly and everlastingly? Day and night, rain or shine--it was always the same, oblivious to all things save only the fulfilment of some mission on which it was always hurrying, hurrying, yet seemed never to accomplish. Men might come and go--all men might come and go--but what of it? Countless numbers had done that very thing along its unreckoned shores and not a few of them had been engulfed in the heartless waters. Thousands of years old, it was nevertheless young. When other ages had passed there would be still no traces of age or decay. Always the same--always the same. Such were the thoughts that surged through David’s mind as he gazed at the wide river, with the tiny waves laving his feet. They gave him an uncomfortable feeling such as he had not experienced before. He admired the stream for its enormity and respected its untold might; but he was not so sure that he liked it. Numbers of dugouts, _batalaos_ and other craft were tied up along the bank. The idea came to him suddenly. If he could not hire a launch, why not take one of these? The trip would require more time and be less comfortable, but these things would be minor considerations.