EARLY the next morning, Sunday, December 1st, we engaged two Cioni boatmen for our canoe, as did MaterÓn for his; and, after constructing a platform of split bamboo to put in the bottom of the boat in order to prevent our effects from becoming damp, we began loading our little craft with its miscellaneous cargo.

In accordance with MaterÓn’s advice, we determined to stow away our trunks, books, and engineering instruments in the most inaccessible part of the canoe, while our food and the Indian trading stuff, as well as our arms, should occupy such parts as to render them quickly getatable. After a good deal of shifting about and changing, we succeeded in getting everything more or less as we desired it, and were by ten o’clock ready to start.

Thinking that this was an occasion worthy of a little celebration, MaterÓn, Perkins, and myself then proceeded to lessen the contents of our barrel of aguardiente by a good drink each, after which we called up the Indian boatmen and, one by one, gave them a good bracer also, which they swallowed with great solemnity. Then we got in the little space that had been reserved for us in the middle of the canoe—for the cargo was stowed fore and aft as much as possible—and gave the signal to begin the journey.

MaterÓn had already informed us that the first couple of days’ journey was somewhat dangerous, on account of the swift, roaring current, the powerful whirlpools, and the numerous stumps and logs that stud the whole course of the river; but we did not fully realise it until the canoe, shooting out into the middle of the stream, was caught by the current, almost before it could be turned bow foremost, and dashed with sickening speed among the stumps and logs that loomed up on every side.

We soon perceived, however, that our Cionis were used to their job, for they guided the flying canoe with the greatest skill as it continued its wild progress down the swift-running river. One of them, the popero, or pilot, always sits on the high, narrow seat in the stern, and, paddle in hand, steers the canoe and from time to time directs the manoeuvres of the other, known as the puntero, who generally stands in the bow and calls out the obstacles, such as logs, stumps, &c., to the popero, in case the latter cannot see them from where he is seated.

In descending a river one puntero is sufficient, for the canoe is generally carried along rapidly enough by the current, and all the bogas[74] have to do is to keep the craft from striking against obstacles and from being thrust by the strong currents sometimes encountered into the unpleasant and often dangerous remolinos or whirlpools.

But when the river is to be ascended, known as subida or surcada, several bogas are necessary. The route must then be close to the bank, where the current is not so strong, but where such obstacles as logs, stumps, salient rocks, overhanging branches, troublesome insects, and other similar inconveniences are numerous. Here the paddles are useless, except when crossing the river[75] in search of an easier route on the opposite bank, and the bogas must push the canoe along by main force, employing for this purpose long poles called botadores or tanganas.

In canoeing in the smaller rivers, especially in the dry season, bad places, caused by the shallowness of the water or the immobility of the huge logs that frequently form an impenetrable network on or near the surface of the water, are often met with; in such cases the bogas either wade ashore and pull the canoe out of the bad place by means of a rope or else enter the water and shove and lift until it is free. If, however, the canoe is very heavy and these methods fail, they strip the bark from the setico-tree, which is always to be found on the banks of these rivers, and stretch it out on top of the obstacle. As this bark is very slippery and soapy, the canoe readily slides over it when they push.

MaterÓn informed us that, as a general rule, one day’s descent is equivalent to three days’ surcada; this, however, is subject to numerous circumstances and mishaps, such as the conduct of the boatmen, the condition of the river, the weight of the cargo, the cut of the canoe, the character of the travellers, the necessity of hunting and fishing for food, &c.

What a pleasant sensation it was to sit calmly in the canoe, while the swift current bore us steadily onwards, and to watch the thick, tropical vegetation, which lined the banks of the stream, swiftly recede until hidden from view by a bend of the river! How different it was from the monotonous climbing and descending of the Andes that had caused us so much toil!

Several times we passed through places that seemed to me perilous in the extreme, for the whirling current would dash us with frightful rapidity directly towards some huge stump or half-submerged log, while other obstacles of a similar nature appeared on every hand. We seemed to be almost upon it, when a deft turn of the popero’s paddle would bring us to one side by a margin of three or four inches. Again, we would shoot some small rapid; the canoe would give a jump, and the next instant we would dash the water out of our half-blinded eyes, and, looking around, would see the rapid far behind us.

We saw plenty of wild turkeys, wild ducks, and monkeys on the trees near the bank, while occasionally a river seal, or nutria, would be seen curled up on a log or disporting itself near the shore. All these animals seemed quite tame, and would allow us to approach within a few metres, and then, just as we were taking aim, off they would go. Finally, after wasting a good many shots—for it is no easy matter to shoot from a rapidly moving canoe—I managed to kill a nice fat pava, or wild turkey, and one of MaterÓn’s men shot a duck.

At noon we stopped on a gravel playa for lunch, which consisted chiefly of panela and aco, and took us only some fifteen minutes. Then we continued about two hours, when we entered the much-discussed Putumayo, much larger than when we saw it in the Andes, but still not a large river. It was low, and the high banks and the exposed islet were completely covered with the debris it had brought down in the wet season, such as huge logs, branches of trees, bamboo poles, &c.

During the afternoon we continued to observe large numbers of birds and monkeys, which made the whole forest resound with their ear-numbing howls. Great flocks of parrots and other gaily plumaged birds flew overhead, their rather harsh voices being heard continually. We shot at several, but whether they were too high for our guns, or, as was probably the case, our aim was inaccurate, we did not get a single specimen. We did, however, kill two or three more ducks.

These ducks are generally to be seen perched up in the trees along the banks or else on some stump in mid-stream, although occasionally one perceives them floating with the current or swimming on the surface of the water. They dive with lightning-like rapidity, and very often succeed in getting away, even when hit severely. Their vitality is amazing, and they are not slow to bite one if they are not quite dead on being picked up.

At about 4 p.m. we reached the tiny Cioni village of San Diego, a small group of about ten little bamboo shacks on the right bank of the river. The whole village came out to welcome us as we rather stiffly climbed out of our canoes, for it seemed that MaterÓn was very popular with them. They brought out a few fruits and a small jar of the yuca-nazata, already described, which we respectfully refused. They are in all respects similar to those of Puerto Guineo, and each of the little huts contained two or three families. MaterÓn informed us that they had but recently established themselves here, abandoning their old village on the other bank of the river on account of a severe epidemic that had broken out among them and killed nearly half their number.

We spent the rest of the afternoon trading with them, giving them some of our beads, harmonicas, mirrors, hats, handkerchiefs, &c., for a few of their manufactures, such as hammocks, yactas, strings of monkey and danta teeth, combs, and the like. They are no fools at bargaining, and have a pretty good idea of the value of the articles they are acquainted with; they are also rather clever at demonstrating what labour it has cost them and how much time they have spent in making any article that one fancies; so, on the whole, we did not get much the better of them.

At bedtime, which was about nine o’clock, the capitÁn and gobernador showed us the corner that we were to occupy in conjunction with a couple of Cioni families, and helped us fix up our hammocks. Following the example of our hosts, we did not trouble to undress very much, but soon fell asleep, and did not awake until time for desayuno.

Early next morning, after taking leave in a most affectionate manner of our hosts, who supplied us with several bunches of plantains and a quantity of yucas and an agreeable fruit known as the papaya, we set out on our easy and interesting journey. At about noon we passed the mouth of the GuamuÉs, the outlet of Lake Cocha, which seemed almost as large as the Putumayo itself. During the morning we succeeded in shooting a couple of wild turkeys and several ducks; one of the former was almost lost on account of having fallen in a lot of thick bushes some distance from the shore.

The vegetation is very dense all along the banks. The most common types are large bamboos; numerous palms, such as the palma de la cera or wax-palm, the chonta, the fragrant sia-sia, the royal, and others; setico-trees, already mentioned; the palo de la balsa, or raftwood-tree; the yarina, or vegetable ivory-tree; and a variety of others, intermingled with shrubs and bushes of innumerable kinds, and bound together into one tangled, impenetrable mass by the countless bejucos and climbers everywhere in evidence.

Nearly every tree of any size is covered with innumerable parasites, among which are to be found several varieties of orchids, whose brilliant flowers serve to diversify the universal green of the forest. The most common of these are different species of Epidendrum, Oneidium, Peristeria, Catasectum, Sobralia, Cypripedium, Maxillaria, Stanopoea, &c.

At about two o’clock we reached MaterÓn’s establishment La SofÍa, where we were cordially received by the other partner, Gonzalez, and his wife. La SofÍa is a good-sized, two-storied bamboo bungalow, with a fine wide veranda extending along its front, while around the building in every direction extend fields of maize, yuca, sugar-cane, &c., with the dark, silent forest in the background. As the place is built on a rather high bank, one can obtain from the veranda an excellent view of the placid, smiling river as it slowly rolls past to join the mighty Amazon on its course to the Atlantic.

La SofÍa was formerly the headquarters of General Reyes, ex-President of the Republic, when he was engaged in the collection of quinine in this region years ago. It is at the head of steam navigation on the Putumayo, and it was here that Reyes’ steamer Tundama was lost. When MaterÓn had arrived here, some eleven months before, he had found everything overgrown by the rank, tropical vegetation and all the old buildings almost completely destroyed. Reyes had named the place La SofÍa in honour of his fiancÉe, and MaterÓn and his partner had retained the name.

The company already had about ten peons engaged in clearing the land and cultivating the crops, and had advanced merchandise to all the Cionis, who had agreed to work out their indebtedness by planting rubber-trees, building houses, clearing land, &c. I was pleased to observe that strict morality was the rule, and that Gonzalez permitted no abuses against the aborigines either by taking away their women, by cheating them, or in any way at all. As to the peons, they seemed cheerful and contented.

There are two distinct kinds of rubber—that produced by a tree that must be cut down to extract the milk, which is called caucho negro, or black rubber, and is produced by the Castilloa elastica, and that which is the product of a tree that can be tapped indefinitely, which is known as jebe or siringa, and is collected from the Hevea brasiliensis. These two varieties of rubber are each subdivided into several classifications, according to the quality of the latex or milk and the care and skill employed in their extraction and preparation. As a general rule, siringa is much more valuable than caucho, and is the best kind adapted for cultivation, although MaterÓn was planting both sorts. After showing us some samples of each, he informed us that the whole region of the Upper Putumayo had once abounded in caucho negro, but that at the present date very little remained, owing to the fierce onslaughts of the caucheros many years ago.

The next day MaterÓn had some of his men build a little rancho of palm-leaves over our canoe amidships to protect us from the sun and rain. This sort of awning is called a pamacari, and is in general use in the Amazon Valley; it gave the canoe a very picturesque appearance, and, as we afterwards found, was very convenient.

We spent the rest of the day in inspecting the estate and taking down a Cioni vocabulary, in which language Gonzalez was very proficient and kind enough to give us the benefit of his knowledge. This vocabulary, which I had hoped to take back to civilisation with me, was, however, lost under particularly aggravating circumstances, which will be duly recorded in a succeeding chapter.

Although MaterÓn and Gonzalez implored us to stay a week or so with them, we decided to resume our journey on the following day; but in the morning, just as we were about to start, Perkins was attacked with a heavy fever, and so our departure was postponed. We dosed him up with quinine and put him to bed, where he soon began to perspire freely, which is to be desired in these malarial attacks.

Finding our patient better in the afternoon, Gonzalez, MaterÓn, and myself took a little trip down to San JosÉ, a small Cioni town about a kilometre below La SofÍa. This village and its inhabitants are very similar to Guineo and San Diego, only a trifle larger than the latter. Here we stopped some time, and I was able to obtain several souvenirs from the Indians, besides a shallow earthen pot, which I determined to fix in the canoe to cook in, thus avoiding the loss of time consequent to performing this operation on shore.

On our return, while pushing the canoe upstream between the numerous stumps along the shore, in the manner already described for surcadas, Gonzalez, although an excellent boatman, suddenly lost his balance and fell with a thud into the deep water. Fortunately, we succeeded in pulling him out, none the worse for his wetting, and in a half-hour reached La SofÍa without further adventure.

Here we found Perkins somewhat better, so we fixed the pot in the fore part of the canoe in the manner I had planned and made arrangements to depart on the following day, for Gonzalez had decided to accompany us as far as YocuropuÍ, the next Cioni village, to see the Indians there.

Perkins better, we accordingly bade goodbye to our kind friend MaterÓn the next morning, Thursday, December 5th; and, lashing our canoe to Gonzalez’, in order to keep together and to facilitate conversation, we once more resumed our journey. MaterÓn had thoughtfully filled the canoe with papayas, bananas, &c., so what with them, the conversation, and the shooting, we were kept pretty busy.

CANOE VOYAGING ON THE AMAZON: A NOONDAY REST. To face p. 96.
CANOE VOYAGING ON THE AMAZON: A NOONDAY REST.
To face p. 96.

The river soon became much broader, owing to the numerous tributaries, and the current much gentler, while great sand and gravel playas began to appear with some frequency. Numerous beautiful birds, flying from stump to stump, lent an air of life to the otherwise silent river, while occasionally a group of monkeys could be seen making their way from tree to tree, almost hidden by the thick leaves and tangled creepers so characteristic of Amazonian vegetation. Soon the heat grew uncomfortable, so we all withdrew under the commodious pamacari, where it was quite agreeable.

At 11.30 we stopped for almuerzo on an immense playa, upon which were two or three dilapidated-looking ranchos, probably erected by the exiles about a month before. Having partaken of a fair lunch of fried yuca, sausage, rice, and coffee, we were about to get into the canoes when Perkins’ eye fell upon a huge ostrich-like bird several hundred metres away. As he was such a fine specimen, Perkins endeavoured to get within range, but in vain; for the beauty, apparently as fond of his fine feathers as we were, soon disappeared into the forest and we saw him no more. This fine bird was probably a nandu or ema,[76] sometimes called the ostrich of America.

Resuming the journey, at about two o’clock we passed a large playa on the left bank, known as the Playa de Oro[77] on account of the supposed richness of its placer deposits. We did not examine it, however, owing to lack of time. A little later Perkins had the good fortune to kill a large duck, and Gonzalez almost got another, but it dived and went up the river, and when next he appeared he had nearly reached the shore, so we did not pursue him farther.

At about 5.30 p.m. we reached an extensive sand island in the middle of the river, where we decided to stop for the night. After securing the canoes we started cooking, while the Indians crossed over to the thickly wooded river bank and soon returned with a load of palm-leaves and several short poles of cana brava,[78] or wild cane, from which, within ten minutes, they constructed two ranchos, where we were to sleep during the night. After the meal was over we sat around smoking, while the Indians washed the dishes, soon after which we all retired.

During the night I felt something pricking one of my fingers, as it seemed to me. Striking a match, I was amazed to see the blood pour from a smooth, round hole, about a quarter of an inch in diameter, on the first joint of my index finger. Thinking it might have been done by some poisonous reptile, I awakened Gonzalez, who, after a glance at the wound, informed me that it was the work of a vampire bat.

As I afterwards ascertained, these bats are very common in this region, in some parts becoming a veritable pest, attacking not only mankind but also cattle, pigs, &c., and often almost killing them by the constant loss of blood, while I have seen men who told me they had been obliged to flee from certain localities in order to avoid the pertinacious attacks of these midnight marauders. They always commit their depredations at night, and it is very rare that they awaken their victims, for while their sharp teeth quickly burrow their way through the skin to the blood, their continually moving wings fan the wound in such a manner as to cause almost complete absence of pain, and the victim generally knows nothing of the midnight attack until he observes the wound.

The next morning, at about seven o’clock, we again set out, and in a few minutes we saw a fine pava, which promptly fell a victim to Gonzalez’ aim. After a short stop for lunch, we saw some young peccaries at the bottom of the steep bank on our left. Approaching hastily, we succeeded, after a short struggle, in capturing them alive, as they were very young, and then disembarked to try for the mother, whom we heard grunting in the distance. We spent a good half-hour struggling through the thick, thorny underbrush, but all in vain; we could not find her. The young ones we put in the boat, for Gonzalez wished to take them back to La SofÍa to see if he could domesticate them.

In about two hours more we reached YocuropuÍ, a small village of about ten houses, situated on a high knoll on the right bank. Here we passed the afternoon in trading with the inhabitants, exchanging the various articles that we had bought in Pasto for Indian souvenirs, such as bodoquedas, quivers of poisoned arrows, pots of paint and poison, &c. Here we got a couple of splendid hammocks.

These Indians are Cionis, and in every way resemble those already described, except that they are, I think, a little crookeder. In accordance with our custom, we had given them a gourdful of aguardiente on our arrival, but, not satisfied with that, several of them had sneaked down to the canoe while we were trading with the rest and had almost half-emptied the barrel before we discovered them. Gonzalez, who was corregidor—a sort of magistrate—during MartÍnez’ absence, then made a long speech to them, emphasising their “base breach of hospitality to the two illustrious travellers,” and wound up by threatening to put several of them in stocks. Completely abashed by this, they silently slunk out of the hut, and for the rest of our stay at YocuropuÍ our barrel of aguardiente was left severely alone.

On the following day we bade adios to Gonzalez and set out alone, as the bogas of Guineo would go no farther, and those of YocuropuÍ wished to delay several days in order to celebrate one of their fiesta, which was to occur in about ten days. We had already lost much valuable time in Pasto and Mocoa, and as Gonzalez had assured us that there were no falls nor rapids before us, we were rather glad to try our own skill as bogas.

Perkins, seated upon the high poop astern with his short Indian paddle in his hand, acted as popero, while I did the cooking up in the bow, at the same time keeping my eyes “peeled” for stumps and game with the gun in easy reach. The sun was very hot, but occasionally a gentle breeze helped matters a little. The current was now very gentle, and our progress was exceedingly slow.

As we were slowly drifting along the bank to get the benefit of the current, which was strongest there on account of a bend in the river, I discerned the dark outline of some large object lying upon an immense fallen tree-trunk. Approaching nearer, we found to our astonishment that it was an enormous boa-constrictor curled up fast asleep sunning himself. As our rifle was out of order I took deliberate aim with the shot-gun, and at a distance of some ten metres let fly at him. The hideous monster jumped up and, after lashing his tail wildly about two or three times, plunged with a splash into the water but a few metres from our canoe and was lost to sight. From our short view of him we perceived that he was of a dark-brown colour, except his belly, which was white and about ten inches in diameter; his length being, as near as we could judge, some twenty or twenty-five feet. These reptiles are fairly numerous on the Putumayo.

Along here we noticed that the river followed a regular system of long windings. First one bank would be eaten into by the strong current that swept past it, while the opposite shore would be protected by an extensive sand or gravel playa, often a kilometre or so in width. Then the current would in the course of a couple of kilometres reach the other bank and begin its scouring operations there, while the first would commence to accumulate a playa.

This system of long curves or windings extends along the whole course of the Putumayo, and it is to be observed in most of the large rivers of the Amazon basin. It is this that makes the Putumayo so wide and shallow and accounts for the numerous sand islands thrown up in mid-stream. In low water the channel cut out by these everchanging currents must be strictly followed by all steamers and launches in order to prevent grounding.

At eleven o’clock we stopped and had lunch, which I had cooked previously while Perkins was performing the rÔle of boga, on a nice shady playa on the right bank. Here I managed to kill a good-sized turkey, and, after continuing about two hours, I got another, so that for dinner we had an excellent meal, the chief piÈce de rÉsistance being roast turkey. This operation concluded, we tied up the canoe securely, and instead of building a rancho both went to sleep in the canoe under the pamacari. It was a little crowded, but we got along all right and passed the night quite comfortably.

At about six o’clock the next morning we resumed the trip, and a couple of hours later passed the mouth of the Quebrada San Miguel, a large tributary, almost as large as the Putumayo itself, on the right bank. It was here that we first made the acquaintance of a gigantic buzzing bee that followed us for hours, flying about Perkins’ head in such an irritating manner that he split our best paddle in a vain endeavour to kill it. This he finally succeeded in doing, but the deceased’s place was soon taken by others, who kept at poor Perkins until nightfall. They did not trouble me, probably on account of the smoke from the fire burning in the pot I got in San JosÉ.

At midday Perkins took an observation for latitude, and found that we had just passed the Equator, being then a few minutes south of the Line. In order to celebrate this occurrence we both got outside of a good dram of aguardiente; we had made a successful “dash” to the Equator, to employ the Polar term.

Soon we came to a place where the river divided into two arms, or brazos, a large and a small one. We chose the latter for the sake of the shade and the better chance of shooting game. As we slowly made our way through the narrow brazo, the branches in some places joining over our heads, the calm beauty of the luxuriant vegetation and the intense silence of the forest, broken only by the occasional shrill call of some brilliant bird or the howl of a distant tribe of monkeys, combined to make us think we were in some fairy land.

Emerging at last from the shady arcade of the brazo, we again entered the main river, and at one o’clock reached Montepa, the last village of the Cionis, situated upon a steep knoll on the left bank. It consisted of eight or ten little bamboo huts, very similar to the other Cioni villages already described. Here we stopped a couple of hours and had a long talk with the capitÁn, who seemed to think we were very brave in making the trip without bogas, and as a token of his admiration offered us each a drink of mazata. After collecting a few more souvenirs we were about to depart, when Perkins suddenly spied an enormous catfish, which, after the inevitable haggling, we purchased. This reminded us that we had plenty of fishing-tackle ourselves, so we resolved to test our angling abilities that very night.

Taking a most affectionate leave of the worthy capitÁn, whose extreme friendliness was doubtless inspired by our aguardiente, we resumed our descent, and continued for a couple of hours, when, reaching a convenient island, we stopped for the night. While I prepared dinner Perkins shot a few small birds, which seemed to belong to a species of dove, as bait, and, after our meal was over, we rigged up a couple of lines and began fishing. Soon I felt a nibble at my hook, and when I thought the fish had it well digested I pulled and had the satisfaction of landing a fine big catfish. Perkins soon caught another, and presently we had a good number of the handsome big fellows.

In the morning we enjoyed an excellent breakfast of fried fish, after which we again set out. The river now became enormously wider on account of its division into several brazos, some of which covered great distances before rejoining the main channel. Large islands, covered with the prevailing dense vegetation, commenced to appear with great frequency, while tributaries of all sizes continued mingling their contents with those of the main river. In fact, the whole country was becoming a complete network of brazos and quebradas, so intermingled and so numerous that it was often difficult to distinguish the one from the other. This continued all the way to the mouth of the river, and is common to nearly all the great streams that empty into the Amazon.

Here we began to observe the boto, dog-fish or pira-jaguar,[79] of the Indians, a huge fish often more than two metres in length, which plays about in schools in many parts of the river. They would flop awkwardly about, close to the boat, apparently quite at home with us. A rather peculiar custom of theirs is that of gasping and snorting violently, as though disgusted about something. Its flesh is not edible—at any rate, the Cionis will not eat it. This fish is also known as the dolphin of the Amazon.

During the whole day we suffered heavily from the suffocating heat, for the burning rays of the equatorial sun shot down upon our unprotected backs with a seemingly intentional fury, and not a breath of air stirred all day. Our thirst was astounding, but, luckily, MaterÓn had insisted upon our taking along a quantity of limes, which now came in very handy to alleviate it.

The next day, Tuesday, the 10th, at about ten o’clock, we met a party of Indians, apparently returning to Montepa from a hunting expedition. We hailed them and asked what luck they had had, but they hurried off without replying, probably half-frightened to death at seeing two genuine, full-blooded white men.

In the afternoon we saw a ronsoco, or capivara,[80] a large amphibious animal somewhat resembling a hog, standing near the water on a small flat area at the foot of a very steep clay bank. As soon as we got within range I discharged the shot-gun at him, and then we both kept up a hot fire with our revolvers, wounding him in several places, as he made desperate efforts to clamber up the steep, slippery bank. Despairing of this, he suddenly plunged into the water, and we were just on the point of giving up pursuit of him when we saw his head as he came up to breathe. We emptied our six-shooters at him again, but again he dived, coming up in about two minutes, when at our once more taking a shot at him he disappeared for good and we saw him no more. I suspect that we killed him and his body sank.

This animal feeds on grasses and weeds on the banks of the river, and is generally about the size of a hog. His scanty coat, of a greyish colour, is hard and bristly, but his flesh is used as food by the Indians, although it is not very tasteful. The lard it furnishes is, however, very much esteemed in most parts. I believe that this is the largest rodent known.

This rather exciting conflict concluded, we kept on until six o’clock, when we tied up the canoe to a nice sand playa. After dinner we again went out on a nocturnal fishing expedition, and had fair luck, catching enough for breakfast, but not such big ones as on the preceding night. At about ten o’clock we retired to the canoe.

The next morning, at about half-past four, we were awakened by a sudden jar, so severe that we rolled all over each other. Climbing out from under the pamacari as quickly as possible, we found to our horror that the canoe was adrift. It had undoubtedly become released during the night from the stake to which it had been fastened and had drifted on downstream with the current. It was only by good luck or the hand of Providence that it had not capsized already.

As soon as we realised what had happened I immediately climbed out in the bow to ward off any other stumps that we might be about to strike, while Perkins hurried back to the poop and endeavoured to get the bow foremost, for the canoe was floating broadside. Complete darkness prevented us from seeing more than two feet ahead of us, but Perkins succeeded in getting the bow pointing more or less ahead and keeping it there, while I stood up in front trying to make out the best course to avoid the stumps. After what seemed like an eternity—as we expected to capsize every moment—although really about an hour, day began to dawn and we began to breathe again. Soon a good-sized playa appeared and we stopped for breakfast, feeling rather surprised that we were alive to partake of it.

After a short rest and a long pull of aguardiente we pushed on again. Soon a gentle breeze began to blow, which was very agreeable, for the heat was scorching; it gradually increased, however, until it got to be quite a nuisance, raising waves nearly two feet high and blowing against the pamacari with such force that we were once more in danger of capsizing. Finally, the situation became so ticklish—for we did not dare to approach the bank on account of the dangers from falling trees, &c.—that, much to our regret, we were obliged to remove the pamacari, leaving nothing but the bare framework. Things went better then, and in accordance with our usual luck, the wind soon after ceased and within an hour all was calm again.

In some seasons of the year fierce tempests take place on the rivers of the Amazon basin, called turbonadas. These are generally accompanied by lightning, torrential rains, &c., and the wind, often attaining a velocity of from twenty to thirty metres per second, blows down trees and causes such large waves and whirlpools that canoes are often overturned and lost unless great care is taken.

At two o’clock we unexpectedly reached GuepÍ, a scattered collection of three Colombian rubber-trading establishments, about a kilometre apart from each other. We stopped for an hour or so at the first house, belonging to one SeÑor MuÑoz; this was a large split-palm bungalow, raised about six feet above the level of the ground in order to prevent flooding during the wet season, when the river overflows its banks. It appeared to be uncompleted, for there were no walls, although the roof and the elevated floor were finished, and the latter was covered with a miscellaneous collection of bultos, heaps of yuca and plantains, pots and kettles, peons in hammocks, pieces of rubber, and other things too numerous to mention. The inhabitants seemed to be taking life easily and not worrying about a rainy day, for they all knocked off as soon as we appeared and began simultaneously to talk and to fill themselves and us with aguardiente. They seemed to be a merry, jovial lot, and when we left insisted upon presenting us with a dozen eggs and a whole lot of papayas and plantains.

A TYPICAL RIVER BANK CLEARING. [To face p. 108.
A TYPICAL RIVER BANK CLEARING.
[To face p. 108.

At about 3.30 we reached the settlement of SeÑor Fajardo, another bungalow, somewhat smaller than MuÑoz’, but on much the same style. Here we were also cordially received by the proprietor, a small, dark-complexioned man of about fifty, and his buxom wife. As they both pressed us to stop all night with them we gladly assented, and, accompanying them to the house, we were introduced to Drs. Ortiz and Hernandez, two of the recently exiled political prisoners from Mocoa, who, it appears, had escaped from the escort at this place and were about to set out for Iquitos via the River Napo.

The two exiles seemed to be very decent fellows, and gave us a rather interesting account of their imprisonment and of their subsequent escape from the escort; their companions, however, had elected to continue their journey to the CaraparanÁ and take a launch from there to Iquitos, as was our intention; but these two gentlemen had thought it more interesting to ascend the River GuepÍ by canoe as far as possible, and then, crossing overland to the River Santa MarÍa, an affluent of the Napo, to descend that river and the Napo to their destination, the Peruvian town of Iquitos on the Amazon. As we were bound for the same place we promptly made an arrangement to the effect that the ones who reached there last were to regale the first-comers with a good dinner and half a dozen bottles of the best champagne. We then celebrated this compact with a drink of aguardiente each and retired for the night.

As the river had risen some two feet by morning the two exiles determined to take advantage of this fact to set out at once, for such small rivers as the GuepÍ can only be navigated conveniently for any distance when the water is high. In accordance with this resolution they immediately began to pack up and send for their bogas, and at eleven o’clock, everything being ready, the two voyagers, with a last adios, took their departure.

Returning to the house, we enjoyed an excellent lunch, during which we learned that our host had extensive rubber areas in the interior of the forest, several days’ journey from the riverside and that his peons were now at work there, extracting and preparing this produce for market; some of this rubber he sells at Mocoa, but his principal market is at Iquitos, which he described as the chief rubber centre of the Upper Amazon. In addition to his regular employees he had several Indians also at work collecting for him, whom he paid in merchandise.

Lunch over, we said goodbye and took our departure, loaded with a fresh supply of limes, yucas, &c. The river, muddy and swollen to a degree, took us along rapidly, and soon GuepÍ was left behind and we were again alone upon the river. At about five o’clock we began looking for a playa to stop for the night on, but none were to be seen—the river had covered them. We continued, however, in the hopes of finding some suitable place until it grew dark, when, fearing to go any farther, we tied up to a good, stout stump on the bank. Here we missed our pamacari, but, after some meditation, we hit upon the idea of hanging our ponchos over the framework, which, fortunately, we had left on. This scheme working satisfactorily, we had a couple of games of chess, and then retired.