On Sunday morning I arrived at Talavera, where the kindness of the people was so great I was compelled to leave the water and rest for awhile.

From there the river ran through a lower country; but wound about so that I could never see more than a quarter of a mile ahead anywhere.

There was a continual change of current, now very rapid and again sluggish and smooth.

Just below the town is a water fall of considerable proportions and a great crowd had gone down there to see me shoot over.

In a spirit of bravado, I stood up when near the brink and was hurled over head first.