During two days the jangada traveled sometimes under the left bank,
sometimes under the right, according to the condition of the current,
without giving the least sign of grounding.
The passengers had already become used to this new life. Joam Garral,
leaving to his son everything that referred to the commercial side of
the expedition, kept himself principally to his room, thinking and
writing. What he was writing about he told to nobody, not even
Yaquita, and it seemed to have already assumed the importance of a
veritable essay.
Benito, all observation, chatted with the pilot and acted as manager.
Yaquita, her daughter, and Manoel, nearly always formed a group
apart, discussing their future projects just as they had walked and
done in the park of the fazenda. The life was, in fact, the same. Not
quite, perhaps, to Benito, who had not yet found occasion to
participate in the pleasures of the chase. If, however, the forests
of Iquitos failed him with their wild beasts, agoutis, peccaries, and
cabiais, the birds flew in flocks from the banks of the river and
fearlessly perched on the jangada.
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