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Even with Rondon's help, the expedition had already lost one man, and the others were at constant risk. Kermit's paddler had drowned in one of the many deadly rapids that studded the river. Kermit, 24, had nearly died in the same accident, and Roosevelt lived in constant fear that he would lose not his own life on this expedition but his son's. Time and again, the men also lost canoes and precious provisions to the rapids. Game and fish eluded them, and they were reduced to searching, often in vain, for Brazil nuts, hearts of palm and the sweet, white sap of milk trees. One of the porters, roundly despised for his laziness and violent temper, had begun to steal food. Out of desperation and rage, he eventually murdered another man on the expedition.
By the time the expedition reached what appeared to be an impassable set of rapids--a series of six waterfalls, the last of which was more than 30 ft. high--Roosevelt was gravely ill, and his men were beaten down by exhaustion, hunger and fear. The only man among them who believed that they could get their dugouts through the rapids was Kermit. Having spent much of the past year building bridges, he was extremely skilled with ropes, a talent that had already saved the expedition countless times as it encountered series after series of rapids.
With Cherrie at his side, Kermit went to Rondon and argued that he could use ropes to lower the dugouts over the falls. Rondon considered it a hopeless effort, but because the other men supported Kermit, he agreed to let him try. That was all Kermit needed to stay his father's hand. Roosevelt understood that the best way to ensure Kermit's survival was not to spare him the burden of carrying his father but to give him the chance to do just that. To save his son, Roosevelt realized, he would have to let his son save him. In the end, Roosevelt, Kermit and all but three men would survive to place the river--renamed the Rio Roosevelt--on the map of South America. Roosevelt never fully recovered his health, but he refused any regret. "I am always willing to pay the piper," he once wrote, "when I have had a good dance."
•Millard's account of this journey, The River of Doubt, was published by Doubleday last year