There was a great quarrel about it, but in the end my father, or rather Hernan, had his will, as the oxen were worn out and many had already died from the bites of a poisonous fly which is called the tsetse.

So we lotted out the land, of which there is enough for hundreds, and began to build rude houses.
"Then trouble came upon us.

The Kaffirs stole most of our horses, although they have not dared to attack us, and except two belonging to Hernan, the rest died of the sickness, the last of them but yesterday.
The oxen, too, have all died of the tsetse bites or other illnesses.

But the worst is that although this country looks so healthy, it is poisoned with fever, which comes up, I think, in the mists from the river.
Already out of the thirty-five of us, ten are dead, two men, three women, and five children, while more are sick.

As yet my father and I and my cousin Pereira have, by God's mercy, kept quite well; but although we are all very strong, how long this will continue I cannot tell.