AT about seven o’clock the next morning I awoke, yawned, crawled out of our makeshift pamacari, and saw—a desert of wet, uneven sand. Perfectly stupefied, I awakened Perkins, and we stepped out to investigate. There stood—firm as a rock—the stump that had served as our sheet-anchor, and yonder—separated from us by a broad stretch of sandy beach—ran the river. At last we understood. The river had gone down some two feet during the night and had left us stranded on the enormous playa that was now revealed.

Awakening at last from the stupefaction that had overcome us, we endeavoured to push the canoe over the 150 metres of sand that lay between the river and us. We might as well have tried to move the river itself, for we could not shift it an inch. Still undismayed, we grasped our trusty machetes, cut down several selico-trees, peeled off the bark, and, after a severe struggle, got them under the canoe with the idea of sliding it over them. But it was useless, for they sank out of sight in the sand. The next attempt was still more laborious, for it was nothing less than building a track, composed of two parallel rows of logs and then inserting rollers between the track and the canoe. This, too, proved unavailing. In despair we took out all our effects and tried it again, but in vain. Roused to desperation, we made one more effort by trying to overturn the craft, but it was so waterlogged that we could not lift it three inches.

Panting, perspiring, and cursing bitterly, we saw that we were in for it, so, taking a long drink of aguardiente each, we carefully put everything back in the canoe, and I cooked the breakfast while Perkins fixed up the two mosquito-bars over the framework of our late pamacari. Breakfast over, we sat down to consider the matter, calmly and judicially. We had tried everything our ingenuity could suggest, but without the slightest success. Thus we should be compelled to stop here until some one came along and helped us or until the river rose again. Judging by the fact that up to this point we had not encountered a single traveller, the first possibility seemed very remote; and in regard to the second, we now remembered that Fajardo had informed us that this was probably the last rise of the river until the beginning of the wet season, which is about the end of January. As it was now Friday, December 13th, it looked as though we were bound to stay here some time.

After lunch we set out upon an exploring expedition along the deserted playa, which proved to be some three kilometres in length. Through its southern extremity ran a small quebrada, which issued from the dense, impenetrable jungle and finally emptied into the river. In some of the deep pools of this stream we observed several enormous alligators swimming about, the tips of their noses protruding from the water like the tops of logs.

Several species of Saurians are common in the Central and Lower Putumayo, such as the Alligator cynocephalus, which is frequently from eight to ten feet long; the Alligator palpebrosus, smaller but equally voracious; and the Crocodilus sclerops, or spectacled alligator, so called on account of his horrible red eyes, projecting outwardly like a pair of glasses on his snout. This brute, which attains a length of from twelve to fifteen feet, lays its eggs in the warm sand, where in due time they are hatched. These alligators, or caymanes, rarely attack man, and feed chiefly on fish and small animals, such as river-seals, capivaras, &c.

Returning to the canoe, we thought that it would be an excellent idea to remove our shoes and socks and go barefoot, for the sand was loose and soft and inconvenienced us by getting in the tops of the shoes. We had no sooner taken off these articles, however, than we discovered that the sand was burning hot from the blazing rays of the sun—so hot, in fact, that we hastened to put them on again at once.

While I busied myself preparing dinner Perkins went to work cleaning up our rifle, which we had neglected and allowed to become very rusty. By the time dinner was ready he had polished it up and it was as good as ever, which made us feel a little more at home, for we had heard most bloodcurdling tales of the ferocity of the jaguars and tigers so common in this region.

The jaguar, ounce, or American tiger,[81] is almost as large and ferocious as the tigers of Asia, often measuring over six feet in length, exclusive of the two-feet-long tail. It attacks nearly all animals, and sometimes man himself. Its sleek coat is of a bright tan colour on the back and white underneath, and on its flanks four rows of black rings, surrounding small black dots, are to be observed. This is the most common kind met with.

Other species are: the black jaguar,[82] known to the Indians as the jaguaretÉ, which is very ferocious; the puma, cougar, or American lion,[83] whose coat is of a uniform tan, and which often measures four feet in length; the grey tiger,[84] which is only about two feet long; and the maracaja tiger,[85] which has a coat of different shades of black, white, and grey, and is still smaller than the preceding one.

The next morning we again went out hunting and exploring, and found numerous danta, or tapir tracks, from the forest to the river. They were very large, and we followed them until they disappeared into the inaccessible forest. Reaching the southern end of the beach, we observed several turtle tracks, but did not notice them closely, for just then we stumbled upon what looked like a jaguar trail, which we followed until it, too, disappeared in the depths of the forest. Somewhat discomfited at these repeated disappointments, we returned to the alligator pools and amused ourselves at taking pot-shots at the alligators until they discovered our game and promptly got away. A little later we shot a small bird, resembling a seagull, which we saved as bait for a fishing expedition we had planned for that evening.

Returning to the canoe, we had lunch; and, then, as it was too hot to go out on another expedition, devoted the rest of the afternoon to chess: but I lost every game, although when we were on the Cauca Railway I used to beat Perkins easily. Whether my mind was distracted by our shipwreck, or whether Perkins had done some studying up, I cannot say; the fact remains that during all the time we were shipwrecked I only won a single game, and we must have played over fifty.

At about seven o’clock in the evening we went down to the edge of the river and commenced fishing. At first we did not get a single bite, and we were just about giving it up in despair, when a school of enormous catfish appeared upon the scene, and in less than an hour and a half we had enough to last for a couple of days. Here we observed several more monstrous alligators, and soon so many appeared that we began to get a little nervous. They did not molest us, however, and we kept on fishing until nine o’clock, when we retired to our humble abode—the canoe.

Shortly after breakfast the next morning I went out on another expedition, taking my machete with me. After exploring the playa, without seeing anything more than tracks, I succeeded in penetrating a short distance into the forest, where I was lucky enough to kill a fine, large bird, known as the paujil. Returning to the canoe, I stumbled upon a large turtle track; following it some distance, I observed that it had dug up the sand, probably to deposit some eggs, so, excavating a little with my machete, I discovered the nest, which contained over eighty eggs. As these eggs are excellent eating, I took off my shirt, tied them up in it and carried them to camp, along with the paujil. At any rate, we were in no danger of starving.

There are two kinds of turtle common on the Putumayo, a large and a small species, known respectively as the charapa and the charapilla. The former is often two or three feet in diameter, and lays eggs almost as large as those of a hen and sometimes as many as a hundred in a nest. The latter is only about a foot or eighteen inches across, its eggs are only about half the size of the former’s, and there are only from twenty to thirty of them in a nest. The flesh of both these Chelonians is succulent and nourishing; the shell, which, however, is not so valuable as that of a seaturtle, is used in some places for different purposes. The eggs are very agreeable, and are eaten either fresh or smoked; in Brazil they extract from them an oil, which is employed for illuminating, like kerosene.

After lunch, which was composed of rice, turtle-eggs, fish, and yuca, we again took up chess, which we played steadily until about three o’clock, when, happening to glance up towards the river, I was overjoyed to perceive several canoes coming upstream. Rushing down to the water’s edge, we saw that there were five canoes, each one containing about ten Indians. As soon as they came up to us, I told them of our misfortune and asked them to help us out, promising to reward them generously. The wretches merely smiled and passed on, which so enraged us that, had I not observed that they were all well-armed, I should certainly have fired a couple of rifle-shots across their bows. As it was, we could do nothing but stand there and execrate them, which naturally was useless. When they finally disappeared, we returned with bitter thoughts to our chess, which we kept at until after dinner.

During this meal we were so upset over the malicious action of the Indians that we determined to have blood of some sort, so, after some deliberation, we decided that it should be the danta’s whose track I had observed in the morning. Accordingly, at about nine o’clock, we set out on the warpath; Perkins carried the shot-gun and I the rifle, while we both had a revolver and a naked machete. Arriving at the spot where the trail disappeared into the forest, we selected a couple of well-concealed but comfortable seats and waited.

After spending several hours sitting there in absolute silence, our patience was finally rewarded by hearing the sound of snapping underbrush, and the next moment a large, awkward form waddled past us and out upon the moonlit sands. We fired almost simultaneously, and had the satisfaction of seeing the animal fall with a thud; the next instant, however, it was again upon its feet and dashing wildly and violently about. Meanwhile, we discharged our revolvers again and again, but without much effect; at last the gallant Perkins rushed up and with a few powerful blows of his machete ended the mÊlÉe, receiving, however, a slight gash in the calf of his leg from a projecting tusk.

We dragged the heavy body of the vanquished danta to our canoe, and, after duly celebrating our victory, found him to be nearly six feet in length and close to three feet in height. We then proceeded to skin him and cut him up in small pieces for smoking, for this is the most common method of preserving meat in this region. This operation concluded, we immediately built a large fire, erected over it a barbacoa,[86] and then, salting the pieces one by one, we put them over the roaring fire until they were cooked through. This task was not finished until daylight, when, not troubling to get breakfast, for we had eaten an enormous quantity of the roasting tapir, we immediately retired, quite exhausted but happy.

The tapir, danta, or gran bestia is the largest mammal of the Amazon Valley, and somewhat resembles the hog. Its snout is, however, prolonged to a small, flexible proboscis and its brown skin is covered, not with bristles but with a few silky hairs. During the daytime the tapir generally remains hidden in the cool, swampy marshes, coming out only at night to feed on roots, nuts, &c. When startled, he rushes along at great speed, his head down and perfectly regardless of trees and underbrush, through which he passes like a whirlwind. The only sounds this animal makes are low grunts and short, shrill whistles, quite out of proportion to his large frame. The tapir—the most valuable of all the pachyderms—ought to be domesticated, for its flesh is excellent and its skin makes first-rate leather; in addition to this, it has been suggested that it would also serve as a beast of burden.

We did not awake until about 11 a.m., when we had breakfast or lunch—whichever it was—after which we set out on our usual stroll. Perkins elected to take the shot-gun and penetrate the forest a short distance, while I went down to the alligator-pool. I saw several turtle tracks on the way, but decided not to dig any eggs, as we had an ample supply of provisions. Arriving at the pool, I sat down in the sand awaiting for some of the Saurians to put in an appearance; I sat there for some time, and was just thinking of returning to camp, when the water swirled up and the head of a river-cow or lamantin showed up for an instant. I jumped to my feet and the Cetacean promptly disappeared; although I hung around the pool for an hour or more, I saw nothing more of the river-cow, and, quite disappointed, returned to our abode.

The manatee, dugong, vaca-marina, or lamantin is none other than the classical siren, and sometimes reaches a length of from twelve to fifteen feet. Its pisciform body terminates in a fan-shaped tail, while the two fins in front, although flat and membranous, consist of five claw-like projections, somewhat resembling human fingers. The females have breasts, similar in shape to those of a woman. Their flesh is excellent, and they generally yield large quantities of fat, which is often used as an illuminant. As the manatee has a very delicate sense of hearing, its capture is rather difficult, and the Indians generally conceal themselves in the thick rushes that surround the bank of a pool and wait there for the victim to come up. As it feeds on certain plants that grow on the edge of the bank, it approaches the shore with some frequency. The Indians then watch their chance and, at a favourable moment, spring out and stab it before it can escape. This animal is becoming rarer every year, owing to the persecution it suffers.

In about half an hour Perkins arrived with three victims—a small dove, a little green lizard, known as the iguana, and a parrot. After making a brief examination of these trophies, of which he seemed very proud, I prepared dinner, after which we had a quiet smoke and then retired.

The next morning we were overjoyed to perceive that the river had risen nearly a foot during the night, but our hopes began to abate when it slowly commenced to go down again, and by eleven o’clock completely vanished, for the water was even lower than before. It certainly began to look as though we were to be detained here several weeks, possibly months.

In the afternoon we went out hunting, in spite of the suffocating heat. Coming to Perkins’s trail in the forest, we followed it to the end, took out our machetes, and, cutting out some of the underbrush, proceeded for about a kilometre farther. Resting here for some time without seeing anything worth shooting, we were about to return when the crackling of twigs indicated that some large animal was prowling around in our vicinity. Approaching cautiously, we peered through the rank vegetation and perceived a herd of about fifteen peccaries, busily engaged in devouring the fallen fruits of a group of palm-trees. As we had plenty of meat, we did not kill any of them, but, after observing them for a few minutes, started back to camp.[87]

The flesh of these pachyderms is excellent; if the animal killed is a male, it is necessary, however, to remove certain glands immediately, otherwise the meat will have a strong, disagreeable flavour. In some parts the natives take advantage of the natural pugnacity of this animal to encompass its destruction. The modus operandi is as follows: The hunter sneaks to them as they are feeding and excites them by imitating the barking of a dog; as soon as they perceive him they all make a rush in his direction; the hunter climbs a convenient tree and the enraged peccaries dash themselves against it in an endeavour to overturn it; the hunter then descends within reach of them, and, with his stout machete frequently kills numbers of the infuriated animals before they abandon their attack.

In the evening we again went fishing, but with indifferent success. The fish did not seem hungry, and it was not until after ten o’clock that we caught enough for breakfast. These were, as on the other occasions, all catfish. Other fish, however, abound in the Central and Lower Putumayo, most of which are already mentioned. One small fish, known as the candirÚ, is much feared in some parts on account of its fondness for entering the lower orifices of people in bathing.

On the following day Perkins did not feel very well, so I went out alone with the object of securing some more turtle eggs. Reaching the vicinity of the alligator-pool, I found a small trail which led along the bank for some distance. Following it with my eyes on the ground, I suddenly stumbled over something and almost lost my balance. Looking around, I perceived that I had run up against an enormous spectacled alligator that had been sunning himself on the sands, and I assure the gentle reader that I lost no time in making my get-away. The hideous monster lost no time in pursuing me, and my blood ran cold when I looked around and saw his wide-open jaws not more than two metres behind me. Fortunately, the forest was close, and in less time than it takes to tell it I was up a tree and pouring down a hot revolver fire upon my disgruntled antagonist, who soon walked off in disgust. After some time I cautiously descended; needless to say, I did not follow up any more turtle trails in the vicinity of the pool, for I had no desire to enter those pearly gates that I had just escaped from so narrowly.

Perkins, better in the afternoon, went out, while I remained with the canoe; in about an hour and a half he returned with about twenty small eggs, having found a charapilla’s nest and a large, beautifully plumaged bird, known as the piurÍ; this bird has a magnificent, black curled topknot and a yellow bill, tipped with black, and is about the size of a turkey. I believe this fine bird is rather rare.

The next morning Perkins and I set out on a forest expedition; following our previous trail to the end, we took out our machetes and hacked our way on a couple of kilometres farther. On the way we saw a tribe of the monkeys known as the Barrigudos; they are hairy and pot-bellied, with large, bullet-shaped heads and well-formed limbs. As soon as they saw us they scampered off, and we did not take a shot at them. Finally, perspiring from every pore as a result of our exertions, we were about to sit down to rest a little while, when Perkins heard in the distance the hoarse, piercing call of the toucan.[88] Wishing to secure a specimen of this strange, queer-looking bird, he set out in the direction from whence the call seemed to come, while I remained at the end of our trocha, enjoying a smoke. After waiting there an hour or so I began to get alarmed for him, and hallooed repeatedly at the top of my voice, but the deep silence of the forest was broken by no answering yell. Then I bethought myself to discharge my rifle, but nothing was to be heard in reply except the long-drawn-out echoes.

What could I do? I dare not set out in search of him, lest I, too, be lost, for in these dense solitudes people have perished from starvation and exposure, unaware that they were within a kilometre of a house. I sat there for hours, shouting and firing my rifle at short intervals and was just becoming desperate, when, faint in the distance, I thought I heard the dull report of a shot-gun. When the echoes of my answering discharge died away, I listened anxiously and, after a short interval, once more heard the muffled boom of the shot-gun, but a little louder than before. Keeping up a steady fire, in about three-quarters of an hour I was overjoyed to see Perkins, with the toucan in his arms, appear in quite a different direction than he had set out from.

After he had recovered himself somewhat by means of the small flask of aguardiente that I had with me, he informed me that the possibility of getting lost had never occurred to him until having shot the bird. After about an hour’s pursuit, he started to return; then he had realised that he was lost, for he had not the slightest idea of which way to return, and wandered about for hours until he finally got within range of the report of my rifle. After that, the rest was easy, and in less than an hour he had found his way back.

Returning to the camp, we examined the toucan that had been the means of leading him astray. These birds are as a rule about the size of a pigeon; their huge yellow beak is almost as big as their entire body. It is, however, of a porous and cellular structure, and does not weigh much. Their plumage is brilliant and attractive, the back, tail, and wings being of a dark rich blue, while the breast is yellow. The toucan lives in hollow trees in the depths of the forest, and feeds on fruits and insects; as a rule, it lays only two or three eggs, which it often devours.

At about four o’clock I went out in search of some turtle eggs, and, after some half-hour’s trailing, found a large nest containing over a hundred. Tying them up in my shirt, I was returning to camp when I heard the report of the rifle, which seemed to come from that direction; hastening onward, I turned a bend and saw three men get out of a canoe and approach our abode, where they seemed to be cordially received by Perkins. Within a few minutes I joined them, and was overjoyed to see that they were a detachment of the CaraparanÁ police force of the Corregidor, Gabriel MartÍnez.

The officer in charge of the little band—AlfÉrez Velasco—was very agreeable and courteous, and readily consented to lend a hand. So after dinner, which was a very pleasant affair, we removed all our effects from the canoe, collected our rollers, passed around the aguardiente, and in less than two hours our gallant craft was again afloat. The AlfÉrez and his men then retired, completely exhausted by this task and the long day’s poling up the river, and Perkins and I commenced our heartbreaking labour of carrying our baggage, &c., over the half-kilometre that separated us from the canoe—for it had not been convenient to roll the heavy craft to the nearest part of the river on account of the sand-hummocks that intervened, and to have taken the canoe up to this place would have meant two hours’ hard work on account of the strong current and the long bend in the river.

It was truly a sickening task. We had had originally seven bultos, weighing about four arrobas each; now, in addition to this we had a barrel of aguardiente, our Indian souvenirs, Perkins’s mineralogical specimens, our danta, &c. To add to our disgust the river commenced to rise rapidly, and soon we perceived that, if we had not been in such a hurry, there would probably have been no necessity for carrying our things, as the river would have relieved us of this task. Sweat fell from us in streams, the rough edges of the bultos cut our shoulders mercilessly, and, to make matters worse, it began to rain in torrents. Still we stuck to it, and at about one o’clock in the morning Perkins staggered on board with the last load—the barrel of aguardiente—on his back. After lightening this part of our equipment by two good drinks each, we immediately retired and slept the sleep of the just.

The next morning it was as we had expected—the river had kept on rising, and the greater part of the playa was submerged. Making our way to the police detachment, we held a long chat with the officer, gave them a chunk of the smoked danta-meat, passed around the aguardiente, and thanking them heartily, took our departure. The swift current took us along rapidly, and soon the scene of our shipwreck faded away in the distance and became but a pleasant memory of the past.

Lunching in the canoe at about eleven o’clock, we steadily continued our descent. At about two I thought I would like to try my hand at being popero, so Perkins accordingly gave me a few hints on it and then retired under the pamacari to enjoy a short nap. I got along first-rate for an hour or so and was beginning to think myself almost the equal of a professional Indian boga, when, borne along at a tremendous rate by the rushing current, we ran into a log that stuck some six feet out of the water at an angle of about thirty degrees. The log was too high to strike the bow, and passed over it; it reached the pamacari, got caught fast in it, the canoe turned broadside, listed to port, water poured over the gunwale in torrents, and I commenced to say my prayers. The next moment the pamacari snapped, the canoe veered around bow foremost again, the log, with the released pamacari still attached to it, raked the rear part of our craft, knocked me overboard, and the canoe was free. I hastily grasped the end of the log and hung to it like a tick to a nigger’s shin, until Perkins struggled to his feet and threw me a rope, for no mortal man could have come up with the canoe in the teeth of the current. I grabbed the rope, and Perkins, after some delay, finally yanked me aboard, none the worse for my misadventure except a large bruise on my forehead. I did not play the rÔle of popero again for some time.

At about five o’clock we stopped for the day at a large playa; I may say, however, that we spent some time in sounding the vicinity of the place where we tied the canoe, in order not to get stranded again. Taking a little walk to explore our neighbourhood, we stumbled upon several turtle trails, and, following them up, found some three large nests. Digging a little with our machetes at one of them, we unearthed about eighty eggs, which we conveyed to the canoe; some of these eggs we had for dinner in the shape of an omelette.

The next morning we again set out on our journey. As our danta was now getting spoiled, I kept an eagle eye on the trees along the bank in hopes of killing something, and shot at several monkeys, but with apparently no effect. Finally I perceived a large turkey, and as soon as we got within range drew a bead on him and fired. The bird fell to the ground, we drew up, I got out and found the dead body of a buzzard or gallinazo.

This repugnant bird, also known as the urubÚ in Brazil, is about the size of the wild turkey, which it somewhat resembles at a distance. Its plumage, however, is a sort of dingy black, and its fairly large beak is of the same colour. They always emit an insufferable, carrion smell, and are the universal scavengers of the tropics. Indeed, in Colombia the killing of a gallinazo is punishable by a heavy fine. Of these birds the best known species are the Cathartes foetens, the C. aura, and the C. jata.

The white gallinazo is not so common, and is popularly supposed to be the king of the flock. While on the Cauca Railway I saw one feeding on a dead mule, while all the common urubÚs stood on one side, waiting until he had had enough. The Indians (as well as many of the “whites”) are very superstitious in regard to this bird, and consider its appearance as a good omen.

Having shot nothing eatable, we reached a promising-looking playa at two o’clock and disembarked in search of some more turtle-eggs. We were busily engaged in excavating a nest, when Perkins saw a solitary canoe slowly making its way up-stream. Approaching the bank, we hailed the strangers, and they began to steer in our direction; as they came nearer we saw that they were all Indians, except one, who was a well-dressed, elderly white man. It was then that we became conscious of our clothes, or rather of our lack of them, for I was dressed only in a torn shirt, an equally torn pair of trousers, and a wide Stetson hat, while Perkins was clad only in a long shirt and his flowing beard.

Mastering our embarrassment, we introduced ourselves to the old man, who proved to be none other than Don Rogerio Becerra, the gentleman who had escorted the exiles down to the CaraparanÁ, from whence he was now returning to Mocoa. He seemed to be a very pleasant and agreeable man, and we held quite a conversation with him, in the course of which he informed us that the Corregidor, Don Gabriel MartÍnez, to whom Jurado had given us a letter, was on his way up also with his police force, and that we might expect to meet him in a couple of days. After a little more conversation he presented us with a live charapilla, of which he had several, and slowly resumed his long and tedious journey.

After unearthing the rest of the eggs, we, too, set out and continued our trip without any further incidents until about half-past five, when we stopped at a large playa. While I was engaged in cooking the dinner here, Perkins went out for a prowl with the shot-gun and succeeded in getting a large duck.

The following morning, December 22nd, we got an early start at six o’clock and continued the trip without incident until ten o’clock, when, owing to the stifling heat, we drew up to a beach and put up a new pamacari-frame, over which we laid our mosquito-bars to make a little shade. No sooner was this accomplished than the sun disappeared behind a cloud, a strong wind arose, and it began to rain in torrents. This kept up for some two hours, and, of course, we got soaked; at the end of this time, however, the sun came out again as hot as ever, and in another two hours we were dry.

Shortly after this we met a group of four or five capivaras trying to scramble up the crumbling, four-foot-high vertical bank of an immense sand island covered with a tall, dense grass. As soon as we got within range Perkins let fly at them with his rifle, while I did the same with the shot-gun; the only noticeable effect was to accelerate their frantic efforts to mount the bank. Then the swift current wafted us down opposite to them, and we opened up a hot revolver fire. One or two of them dived then, and another, with a desperate leap, got on top of the bank and instantly disappeared in the tall grass. By this time we were some distance past the spot where they had been, and as the current was very strong, we did not judge it worth while to go back, seeing that they had all disappeared.

On the following day we were again favoured, at about noon, with another heavy downpour. The wind was so strong as to cause large waves and make our progress exceedingly slow. When the storm passed, at about one o’clock, the sun again obligingly came out and dried our clothes for us, as on the previous day. A little after this we had the luck to shoot a turkey and find a large nest of turtle eggs; the charapilla that Don Rogerio had given us we still kept tied up on his back alive in the bow, intending to keep him for Christmas.

At about 3 p.m. we came in sight of a house, which, according to what Don Rogerio had told us, we surmised was Yaracaya, the rubber establishment of SeÑor JesÚs LÓpez. Around the house was a little patch of clearing, planted with yuca, plantains, &c., while, surrounding this little piece of man’s feeble handiwork rose the unbroken stretch of primeval forest and the island-studded river, rushing onward to join the mighty Amazon.

Keeping in towards the right bank—upon which the establishment is situated—we were so engrossed in taking stock of the place that we got stuck on a submerged sand-bar and some difficulty was experienced in getting off it. Then a tall, dark, bearded man, dressed in a pair of checkered blue trousers and a white shirt, who proved to be LÓpez himself, came down to the bank, accompanied by a peon, and gave us a cordial welcome.

Leading us up the gentle slope, he conducted us into the house, which was built on posts about six feet above the level of the ground. It was of bamboo and split-palm, large and ample, and had a porch running along the front, which faced the river. Presently a tall, rather pretty woman appeared, whom he introduced to us as the wife of his partner, now absent on a trip to Iquitos, via the River Napo. In the kitchen we observed a number of Indian women busily engaged in making fariÑa.

We had not intended stopping here for more than an hour or so, but shortly after our arrival Perkins was attacked by a heavy dose of fever, and as LÓpez pressed us to stay, we were glad to accept his invitation. I spent most of the time in conversation with our host, who kindly supplied me with considerable information about the region of the CaraparanÁ.

In the course of this conversation I learned that there was considerable ill-feeling between the Colombians of that section and the Peruvians on account of the boundary dispute and the aggressions of the latter, who are much more numerous than the Colombians and all employees of a large firm which has its headquarters in Iquitos and is known as the Peruvian Amazon Company. LÓpez informed me that this company, planning to get possession of the rubber estates of the Colombians of the CaraparanÁ, had influenced the Peruvian officials at Iquitos, in open violation of the modus vivendi, to send troops up to help expel them, and that, moreover, these troops had just arrived.

Somewhat taken aback at this rather interesting information and not wishing to get mixed up in any frontier disputes, I asked LÓpez if it were not possible to avoid passing through that region and cross over by some varadero[89] to the River Napo, as his partner had done. He replied that there were several varaderos we could take, the best one being near an establishment known as Remolino—some five-days journey down the river—which belonged to the Colombian company of OrdoÑez and MartÍnez. These gentlemen, LÓpez went on to inform me, had plenty of Indians in their service, and, in addition to lending us the necessary number of cargadores, would probably be glad to buy our canoe and such effects as we did not desire to take with us. This advice seemed reasonable, and I determined to act on it.

The next morning found Perkins no better, so we had to prolong our stay. In the course of my conversations with LÓpez, who seemed to take life pretty easily, I learned that all the rubber produced in this section of the Putumayo is an inferior kind of jebe or siringa, known technically as jebe dÉbil or weak-fine rubber. Such large quantities of it are produced, however, and at such a small cost, especially in the CaraparanÁ and IgaraparanÁ districts, that its poor quality is more than compensated for. LÓpez furthermore told me that he had several racionales and a number of Indians employed on his inland estates. The former he paid a salary, while the Indians exchanged the rubber they collected for merchandise.

In the middle of the afternoon we perceived several canoes coming up the river; finally reaching the port, they disembarked, and we saw that they were the police force that Becerra had told us of. LÓpez and I went down to the port to greet the Corregidor, Don Gabriel MartÍnez; what was our amazement when the corporal in charge gave us the pleasing information that four or five days previously, while they had been stopping at an establishment known as Yubinete, a launch had appeared with about forty employees of the Peruvian Amazon Company on board, who had informed the corregidor that he must go to El Encanto, their headquarters, with them. Upon his refusal they had exhibited their arms, and declared that they would take him by force then. Seeing that resistance would be useless, MartÍnez had ordered his men to wait three days for him, and, if he did not appear at the end of that time, to proceed on up the river. They had not seen him since, and naturally feared that he had been detained.

LÓpez asked them to stop over Christmas, and they gladly assented, for the poor fellows, of whom there were eight, were in a lamentable condition. Thin, weak, and emaciated, they looked more like ghosts than men. They were all in rags, without food, without medicines, and suffering from malarial fever of the worst kind. LÓpez gave them some food and assigned them quarters under the house, while I gave them the greater part of our quinine. They were accompanied by ten or twelve Cioni boatmen, who, curiously enough, looked quite plump and healthy.

The next day was Christmas, and Perkins was better, so we celebrated the occasion by killing the turtle Don Rogerio had given us. In addition to this delectable dish, the lady of the house made some plantain dessert and several other dainties, which we devoured ravenously. Then LÓpez brought out a small barrel of the indispensable aguardiente, and everybody, including the sick policemen, their Cioni boatmen, and Perkins and myself, got on more or less of a jag,[90] which lasted all day, and was not interrupted even by the death of one of LÓpez’ Indians, who, it seems, had been ailing for some time.

The next morning at eight o’clock the policemen set out on their homeward journey. We saw them off, and, returning to the house, spent the rest of the forenoon in taking down a lot of Cioni words, which LÓpez was kind enough to furnish us with. This task completed at four o’clock, we had lunch, and after rendering the genial LÓpez a small return for his hospitality, Perkins and I set out once more upon our journey down the river.

During the afternoon we stopped on a large playa and dug up a quantity of turtle eggs. While engaged in this operation we observed a magnificent bird of a blackish colour, which we took to be the ibis. We endeavoured to drop him, but he was too wily for us, and we could not get within range. A little later I succeeded in killing a couple of wild ducks, which seemed to be very numerous in this vicinity.

On the following morning we set out at about six o’clock, being awakened at about half-past five by a numerous army of gnats or moscos. These little pests, described in the first chapter as being very prevalent on the Cauca Railway, had not afflicted us since leaving Puerto Guineo, the point of embarkation. They now became very aggravating, and such was their ferocity and perseverance that we were finally compelled to don the gloves and veils we had had made in Pasto for the purpose. Owing to the suffocating heat, these articles were inconvenient to a degree, but as they were undoubtedly the lesser evil, we endeavoured to put up with them.

At about 2 p.m. we reached Yubinete, the place where MartÍnez had been kidnapped. As soon as we reached the port a couple of racionales came down and conducted us up along a winding path to the little split-palm hut, which was situated on a high knoll on the right bank, some two hundred metres from the river. The place seemed desolate and neglected, for rank weeds and large bushes arose on every side. The proprietor, it seemed, was absent, and the two racionales, who had been left in charge, took life very easy.

Here we had lunch with them, which was a rather meagre affair, after which we sold them some of our remaining Indian trading-stuff in order to get it out of the way. During the course of this deal, which was enlivened by a considerable amount of haggling and aguardiente, we learned that nothing more had been heard of the unfortunate MartÍnez, and the opinion of the two racionales was that he was being detained at El Encanto for some underhand purpose.

Bidding adios to the hospitable racionales, we resumed our descent at about 3.30, and continued it without incident until about six o’clock, when we stopped at a large playa near where the river—or at least the arm that we were following—divided into three brazos. Here we saw several ducks, but they would not let us get within range. With the darkness the gnats disappeared, but great blood-sucking mosquitoes soon took their place; it was out of the frying-pan into the fire.

After a night of torture we resumed our journey on the following morning, taking the left brazo, as the two racionales had informed us that it was the quickest. The gnats now relieving the mosquitoes, we again put on the paraphernalia of the previous day, but found it unendurable, for the narrow brazo was like an oven, being too wide to provide shade and too small for the breeze to enter.

Had it not been for these little wretches we should have enjoyed the passage through the brazo, for on either side—almost within arm’s length—towered up in magnificent confusion the luxuriant, impenetrable vegetation of the Amazon Valley. The calm beauty of the scene was from time to time enlivened by the numerous bands of gaily-coloured parrots and parroquets that, with shrill, hoarse cries, would circle about in the sky far above us. Again, we would perceive a group of monkeys leaping from tree to tree with the agility and quickness peculiar to them. At other times the silence would be broken by the splash of the large fish, which, intent on securing some delectable insect for their lunch, would leap out of the water in their eagerness.

At about two o’clock we emerged from the brazo and again entered the main channel, which along here averaged from one to two kilometres in width. Here there was a little wind, which served to relieve us a trifle, but, unfortunately, it did not last long, and the stifling heat and the clouds of gnats soon resumed their sway.

A little later, while keeping along the right bank to get the benefit of the current, we observed a band of the large guariba[91] monkeys making their way along the bank. As we were in need of some meat, we hastily disembarked and set out in pursuit of them. Perceiving an especially large one, I let fly at him with the shot-gun; he fell, but, striking a branch in his descent, caught it with his tail and hung there head downwards. Finally, after shooting him six times more and spending over half an hour throwing sticks at him, he condescended to fall, and we took him in triumph to the canoe. We had a fine dish of monkey-steak for dinner that night.

The guaribas are the largest and most interesting of the numerous species of monkeys that abound in the forests of the Putumayo. They average two feet in height, have well-developed fingers, and a heavy beard under the chin. Their long, prehensile tail is covered with hair on top, but the under surface is bald and horny. They are generally of a brownish colour, but this often varies, according to the age of the individual. The guaribas have powerful voices, and when they all get together and begin howling, the din is deafening. They feed on fruits and nuts, and the females carry their young on their backs like some Indian women.

The next day we got another early start; the river was high, and the current took us along rapidly. During the morning we shot at several splendid-looking parrots, but they were too far off for our fire to be effective. The gnats still hen-pecked us, though not so ferociously as on the previous days, because we now got along faster. We had intended digging some turtle eggs, but the river was so swollen that the greater part of the playas and islands were covered.

At noon a heavy rain set in, which soaked us through and through. Then the sun came out again in all its glory and dried us within an hour or so, while our enemies the gnats took their toll of us; they literally appeared around us in clouds, and we killed thousands of them at a time by simply clapping our hands together. Finally they became so numerous that I was compelled to make a fire in the pot in the bow, which I rendered as smoky as possible by wetting the wood. This drove them off a little, but was as bad for us as it was for the gnats.

During the afternoon the river went down somewhat, and the beaches and playas were once more revealed. The water, however, had obliterated all tracks, &c., and consequently we were unable to find any nests. At five o’clock we stopped at the mouth of a little quebrada, where the fish actually swarmed. Every moment they would jump up out of the water, for some reason or other, and two of them even went so far as to leap into our boat. Nevertheless, our daintiest bait would not tempt them to bite.

The next morning, December 30th, we again set out on our journey. The river had gone down considerably, so we made rather slow progress, and, consequently, the man-eating gnats had us more or less at their mercy, for it was so hot that our armour was unbearable. At ten o’clock a slow, drizzling rain set in, which was peculiarly annoying, for it was not strong enough to dissipate the gnats, but sufficiently damp to soak us completely.

The wet season had apparently set in, and, owing to the gnats and rain, our trip had lost much of its charm, so we made up our minds to follow LÓpez’ advice in regard to crossing over to the Napo by the Remolino varadero without delay. Besides, we rather wished to travel by an overland route, in order to see the country between the rivers. Above all, we did not wish to get mixed up in any backwoods frontier fighting.

In spite of the drizzle we got out upon reaching a promising-looking playa, and, after some trailing, found a large nest of eggs, which had apparently been laid during the previous night. We also had the luck to shoot a small duck, so our larder, at least, was provided for.

Turning a bend, we saw a house, surrounded by a large cleared area, perched upon the left bank. Approaching nearer, we perceived that the river—heretofore nearly two kilometres wide—narrowed down until, when opposite the house, it was not over a couple of hundred metres in width. Here the banks were high and vertical, and the river, rushing between them like a mill-race, formed an immense eddy, or remolino, on the other side. Then, turning at a sharp angle, it gradually spread out and soon attained its former width again. We had arrived at Remolino.