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[[margin, vertical line in blue pencil]] any ouças. If the woods are full of them as I'm told, they must have seen me first. This is the first place I've encountered people [[/margin, vertical line]] sick with "febre", which means malaria. (I'm thinking of things to be afraid of). I've wrapped myself in my mosquito net carefully each night. In spite of awful food or none, being wet every day and sleeping ^[[insertion]] doubled up [[/insertion]] in the front seat of the automobile I'm perfectly well, no headache even, nothing the matter with me but tormentingly itchy lumps. I got into another army of ants this morning, but saw them in time to avoid more than a few dozen. I retired up the road and went hunting them. They are [[underlined]] terrible [[/underlined]]. The men were wailing over the formigas, too.

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A woman, who helped paddle, has been standing on the running board looking on at my writing part of the last quarter hour. This is good manners, apparently, here. It is so frequently done. I'm sitting in the car as the least midgy place, but they are [[underlined]] awful [[/underlined]]. It is now 11 o'clock.
That Paspalum at Sta Rita Araguaya [[underlined]] is [[/underlined]] approximatum. I'm so glad to have found these additional Paspalums.
That falls near Sta Rita aren't [[underlined]] the [[/underlined]] falls of the Araguaya  The cachoeira do Araguaya is some 30 leagues down stream. This, the São Lourenço, is a beautiful stream, but I'm not in a mood to appreciate it. The men are chopping along the shore, making ready to pull the ferry back by using chains around trees, I suppose, and women are bailing out the dug outs. It is sunny at last. If [[underlined]] only [[underlined]] it would stop.