In Search of an Unknown Race — page 69: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

VAN. 6f above the gaudy passion vines and strangely shaped orchid blossoms. A large white cockatoo witha yellow crest eyed Van with thoughtful contemplation from a mimosa tree a couple of yards away. Anda troop of diminutive monkeys with ludicrous baby faces perched themselves in a row on a fallen tree trunk, like the ‘‘ten little Injuns sitting in a line,” and watched him in silent curiosity. A few moments later Van knocked over a wild pea- cock with a shot from his revolver. At the report the birds took flight, while the monkeys fled shrieking with affright, and he experienced a half guilty feeling at having thus disturbed the peace of this primitive solitude. While he was waiting for the fire he had kindled to burn up, Van cut from the rawhide painter of the canoe a long slender strip. Tying a bit of the flesh of the slain peacock to one end, he drew in a dozen or more large fish as fast as he could throw them ashore. Making a paste of clay he rolled each one therein, and then buried them in the embers. The fowl he roasted after a rude fashion over the fire, and only for lack of that simple yet almost indispensable seasoning —salt—Van would have made a most enjoyable break- fast. As it was, his hunger was satisfied, and having wrapped the fragments left over in a banana leaf, which he placed in the canoe, he made a brief reference to his chart. At a rough estimate, he judged Canuma Lake not to be over a hundred miles, or less than three days’ journey, distant. Greatly encouraged, he started on again, EOmMmicdoo cS (E(e) im