Most of the people were squatters in the wilderness. They were Portuguese who had cleared their little patches of land and were subsisting on the bounty of the soil and the river. They worked little, except in fighting the forest, as all vegetation grew so luxuriantly and yielded such abundant crops that little cultivation was needed to produce all the food they required. They were easy-going, good-natured, and spent most of their time in their hammocks, conversing and sipping tea or coffee. A few of the stations, however, were owned by residents of Manaos, who visited them occasionally and maintained hired help permanently to cultivate the soil and care for a few cows, pigs and fowls. The dwellings were all of similar construction--flimsy structures with bamboo walls, earth floors and roofs of palm leaves. The tropical luxuriance of the foliage all around them, however, gave them a picturesque appearance so that they seemed to fit properly into their surroundings. A more substantial type of house would have been impracticable and out of place in such a climate. “Are there no large ranches along the river?” David asked, after leaving one of the clearings. “Yes, there are a few, but they have been started very recently. Each time I come back this way I find a few new ones, but none of them is very large. We expect to reach one of them tomorrow; I just heard about it in Manaos.” “What is it called?” “Las Palmas. The owner is one of your countrymen. They say he has an enormous ranch in the Argentine and is going to make Las Palmas the best and largest in the Upper Amazon. But it will be hard work and I doubt if he will succeed.” “Do you know anything about the owner? What did they say about him in Manaos?” David asked eagerly. “Nothing much except what I told you.” “That might be a good place for me to stop,” David suggested. “Tired of the river already?” Don Marco asked in surprise. “No! Just beginning to become interested.” “Then it must be that you do not like our company. I am sorry,” and the captain seemed offended. “No! Nothing of the kind,” David hastened to assure him. “You have been mighty good to me and I wish I could stay with you on the whole trip. But my time is limited and I want to see some of the ranch life. To tell the truth, that is the reason I came to Brazil.” “As you wish. But I shall be sorry to see you go.” There was a note of real regret in Don Marco’s voice. “It has been a pleasure to have you and I have enjoyed your company.” They reached the landing just before noon of the following day. “This must be the spot, but where is the ranch?” the Venezuelan asked, greatly puzzled, as he looked up the narrow trail leading from the high bank straight through the heavy forest. Aside from this path there was no evidence of life in the neighborhood. “I know the river too well to be mistaken,” he continued. “This is the spot they described to me.”