Head Hunters of the Amazon | Page 2

an horizon. Too few of the genuine "voor treckers" have left us an account of their experiences. We owe a great debt to Mr. Up de Graff.
KERMIT ROOSEVELT
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INTRODUCTION
THIS is an old story, and yet a new one. Since the race of men first began to move over the face of the Earth, the desire for fresh discovery has been strong in the human breast. This longing to penetrate the hidden depths of Nature, coupled with the sheer love of adventure for adventure's sake, was perhaps what drove me to undertake the series of journeys of which this book forms a simple tale. I claim for it neither scientific nor literary value. It is a mere collection of disjointed records, published in this form in the belief that the youthful, untamed spirits of to-day will derive pleasure from the contemplation of the wanderings of one of their predecessors, guided by an inscrutable Fate.
After twenty years of pressure from my friends, and several false starts, I have at last succeeded in putting on record the story of my wanderings in the little-known forests of the Upper Amazon basin. There, in the greatest tract of virgin country in the world, I spent some of the most fascinating-- as well as the most wretched-- days of my life, in the company of as fine a set of fellows as a man could wish for at such a time. Fortune threw us in each other's way, but before we parted we were bound by insoluble ties of friendship.
As for their identities, I have concealed none but one-- the man whom I have called Morse. Not only their names, but every detail mentioned in connection with the characters who figure in this book is accurate. It is a History, in the true sense of the word, for I have fulfilled to the letter the first duty of the historian-- I have told the truth.
In all probability many of my friends and acquaintances of whom I make mention are alive to-day. Nothing would give me more pleasure than to hear from either themselves or others who know something of their more recent histories, should this book fall into their hands.
The problem of putting into writing an unwritten language is bound to present certain difficulties. These I have met in what appeared to me to be the most practical way in the case of the Inca (or Quichua, which is the Ecuadorian equivalent) and J��varo words, which I have introduced for the sake of those who are interested in philology. In order to convey as nearly as possible the exact sound of such words, I have spelled them in accordance with the Castillian pronunciation of the alphabet, which certainly renders them much more accurately than would the English one with its numerous anomalies and variations. Those who take pleasure in studying such matters should note the few important points of distinction between the Spanish and English alphabets before reading the text.
To my friend and collaborator, Roger Bacon, I give the credit for the careful compilation of the complex data which form the basis of this story, and take this opportunity of thanking him for his energetic and painstaking assistance in putting the whole thing before the public in readable form.
Greater still is the debt which I owe to my mother, who has carefully preserved for me the numerous documents bearing on this narrative, which have enabled me accurately to record many details which would otherwise have escaped my memory.
F. W. UP DE GRAFF.
Barcelona, 1921.
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CHAPTER I
THE BEGINNING OF THE TRAIL
The Call-- The "Theta Nu Epsilon"-- Colon-- The Grand Hotel, Panama-- Guayaquil-- Alligators-- An appointment.
I HAD made the acquaintance of D. Enrique Domingo C��rdovez, known among his friends as "the Count," at Union College, Schenectady, N. Y., in the year 1890. He was one among the many rich young South Americans who come to the United States to take advanced courses at the universities, chiefly in the field of engineering. The son of a wealthy Ecuadorian, he was actuated by a very real desire to return to his native land equipped with the technical knowledge which would enable him to install in its primitive towns some of the many modern conveniences which were sadly lacking. And so it came about that his serious nature and his real love of his work enabled him to graduate with honours as a civil engineer.
My activities as one of the chiefs of the "Theta Nu Epsilon" led to my "graduating" two years ahead of my class. Well do I remember how the whole of my classmates hauled me down to the station in the College farm wagon on the day of my departure, having refused to work on so memorable an occasion. But although the "Count" did not graduate at