In Search of an Unknown Race — page 73: what you’re looking at

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

VAN. 63 arms, and equally in vain did he strain his gaze hoping to see some far away column of smoke indicating their camp fire. The long stretches he was enabled to make in his canoe, in the slack of comparatively smooth water between the irregular occurrence of rapids and falls, served to give his blistered and aching feet a little rest. But though he fought desperately against the feeling, Van could not but know that he was growing weaker every. day from fatigue and lack of proper food. He had grown to fairly loathe the scorched flesh of the wild fowl which he shot with his revolver from time to time, and even preferred the rather rancid taste of the turtles’ eggs that he found in abundance in the sandy patches along the shore. ~ Occasionally Van was lucky enough to discover an anthill whose original occupants had been evicted by a swarm of small stingless black bees. The honey, instead of being stored in comb cells, was enclosed in perfectly round balls of black wax one and two inches in diameter. This Van found very delicious. But three and even four days had passed, yet he could see no signs of an approach to the looked-for lake, On the morning of the fifth day Van woke from unrestful night’s slumber in his canoe, with every bone in his body aching terribly, and a sensation as though a band of red hot iron were welded about his forehead. Cold chills ran over him from time to time, succeeded by intervals of heat in which he seemed to be burning | up. L Bat the will power is a wonderful factor in sickness. Had Van been differently circumstanced, he would EOmicbdoo <SriG