For three days I continued
the voyage through canyons and during the entire time the only signs
of human life I saw was an occasional glimpse of people far up in the
mountains, passing along, but too distant to attract their attention. My
progress was slow owing to the long stretches of dead water I would
strike, it was silent and lonely. The wild black ducks I would scare
up were the only signs of life on the river. All the sleep I took was
during daylight. I would haul up on some dry rock near the shore and in
a moment be buried in profound slumber. At night I dare not sleep, for I
could hear the howling of the wolves that are fierce and plentiful along
that part of the Tagus, and their dismal yells warned me to keep to the
river.
"On the morning of the third day in the canyons, I was stiff, sore and
hungry, having eaten nothing but wild olives, gathered near the banks,
for two days. That morning the idea struck me that I must have wandered
into some false channel, or some branch from the Tagus, as I could make
no headway. I came to an upright position and with every sense sharpened
by hunger, listened to hear, if possible, the ringing of a bell, the
barking of a dog or any sign of life; for I had about reached the
conclusion that it was time for me to leave the water and climb the
mountain in search of some house or village; but not a sound broke the
deathlike stillness, except the distant rumbling of rapids I had passed
over or those below that I must soon encounter.
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