the canoes; guns leveled and shots rang out thick and fast. Someone in the excitement discharged his shotgun without rising. The shot went down the middle of the canoe grazing Rodriguez, Tom, and Harry. Rodriguez received a powder burn on his face, and “lost the joy.” Who could blame him?
What a supper! Fish and steaks of waterhog. Harold employed his time crouched by a stump meticulously cubing the fat he had cut from the waterhog. “I didn’t know waterhog was good for frying, Senhor Harold,” remarked Brito. “I didn’t, either.” “Well, what are you fixing that for?” “It’s for Dona Josefa, an old lady back at the ranch. She’s got rheumatism bad. She asked me if we ever killed a capivara to get some of the grease for her to rub on her joints. This is going to
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