356 THE AMERICAN MUSEUM JOURNAL 



considerable size and all heavily forested, block the mouth of the Ventuari, 

 while the many channels into which the river is divided are thickly sprinkled 

 with granite boulders, amongst which the water swirls and rushes at a terrific 

 rate. 



Life on the upper Orinoco at this season is at its height. It was unusual 

 not to pass a number of rubber camps in the course of a day's travel, which 

 always presented a scene of life and activity. It was hard to believe that 

 within a few short weeks all signs of life would vanish and the sites of the 

 camps themselves disappear in a rapidly rising, muddy lake. At many of 

 these camps we were hospitably received, while at others the reception bor- 

 dered on open hostility so that we deemed it safer to spend the night aboard 

 the little craft or on some vast sand-bank beneath the brilliant con- 

 stellations. 



Daily we strained our eyes for a first sight of the stupendous stone forma- 

 tion which was our goal, and in the afternoon of the twentieth we were re- 

 warded with a first faint view of Duida, the mysterious mount of the 

 Maquiritares. It loomed dim and indistinct in the far distance, a high 

 flat-topped plateau, but presently the mists shifted and revealed two peaks 

 of equal height on the southeast end. A moment later the whole was 

 hidden by rolling masses of vapor. We did not have another view until 

 several days later. 



There are two things so typically characteristic of the Orinoco that I 

 cannot refrain from giving them mention. One, the large flocks of hoatzins 

 that appear morning and evening in the dense brush that lines the river 

 banks and the other, the schools of porpoises that appear unexpectedly at 

 almost any time of day or night. The latter often remain in the immediate 

 vicinity of a boat an hour or more, coming to the surface frequently to raise 

 their long narrow snouts from the water, give a deep coughing sound and 

 disappear. 



Toward the Orinoco, Duida presents a bold front — a sheer cliff hundreds 

 of feet in height. The seven miles of intervening country, between river 

 and mountain, consist of marshes and undulating plains covered with a 

 dense growth of thorny vegetation. Progress through such country is 

 extremely difficult and upon reaching the base of the mountain at this point 

 it seemed that we should doubtlessly be obliged to make wide detours as the 

 barren cliffs are apparently unscalable. 



It was therefore decided to ascend the Rio Cunucunuma, a small stream 

 coming from the northeast and entering the Orinoco at right angles. Once 

 within the comparatively narrow confines of this cano, the surroundings 

 are vastly different from the Orinoco and as wild and tropical as one could 

 well wish. 



The forest is of towering height generally extending to the edge of the 

 water, forming impregnable walls covered with a dense and even growth 



