THE FISHERMAN. 89 



sometimes possible. Then a party will be ar- 

 ranged to go out in several corials. These corials 

 are the ordinary dug-out craft, what we should 

 call cranky. It has been our bitter experience 

 to travel in one of them for several hours, but 

 never again do we wish to suffer such an incon- 

 venience. You have to sit on the bottom with 

 your legs cramped, and dare not move for fear 

 the craft may turn over. Yet the Indian can do 

 anything he likes with it. You see him going 

 down the less dangerous rapids, he and his tiny 

 craft looking as if they were one monstrous 

 floating animal. Even if it upsets he gets out 

 and rights it again without much difficulty. 



In fishing parties there is usually one man to 

 steer and paddle, while the other is on the look- 

 out for signs of the fish. When the arapaima 

 is sighted one corial moves slowly forward, the 

 bowman rises, clings to the bottom with his almost 

 prehensile toes, and stands as steady as if on 

 land. He would make a fine model for the 

 sculptor, for he is himself almost a bronze statue. 

 Fire is in his eyes, every muscle bulges. He sees 

 the fish where we could distinguish nothing. It is 

 very near and he takes care not to disturb it. The 

 paddler moves the corial to right, left, or forward ; 

 he also sees the fish. Suddenly a twang breaks 



