MANNERS OF THE INDIANS. 



195 



a little willow hand basket in a moment, and the game was secured from 

 the heat of the sun, which by this time was shining down brightly. A 

 part of their morning's labor was presented to me. I returned fish- 

 hooks, which pleased them more than anything that could be given to 

 them. A little aboriginal came for the fish, and while he took them 

 home to the women, the Indians went with us to the ferry. 



These Indians are much more cheerful than those on the mountains. 

 They have a great fancy for bright colors, and live after their own fashion. 

 Their manmers and customs are their own, and have never been changed 

 by the influence of the white man. Like the country they live in, they 

 are as the God of nature made them. Their natural disposition is a 

 peaceful one, with a decided character, which shows that the Span- 

 iards may come among them and live with them if they please. But 

 the happy life of the hunter is not to be given up.for the more laborious 

 work of cultivating coca patches. 



These Indians occupy about the same district of country here that 

 the savage and unfriendly Chunchos do in Peru, on the tributaries of 

 the Madre-de-Dios ; but have a different expression of face, now that we 

 know them better. They are more manly in deportment than the 

 Chunchos, who are described to crawl through the woods with wilful 

 determination of assassins. 



They loaded the canoe with our baggage, and in a smooth place in 

 the San Mateo, below a very rapid fall, paddled across. By several 

 trips, they safely carried all our boxes over, and then swam the mules. 

 One of them led the old white mare into the stream ; the mules fol- 

 lowed ; the Indians dashed in after them, and the train swam to the 

 opposite shore. The canoe came back for us, and we embarked at the 

 foot of the Andes on a voyage across a stream,- which was not navigable, 

 even for a canoe, except where we passed. The color of the water was 

 milky. 



We met another train of mules, loaded with cacao, on their way to 

 Cochabamba. The Indians transported then* over the same way they 

 did us. 



Our mules were so much exhausted that they stood upon the rocky 

 beach hanging their heads. As the water dripped from their sides the 

 hot sun dried them, and the swarms of sand-flies troubled them as much 

 as us. Cornelio told me his animals could not proceed — they were 

 nearly worn out ; so that we had to spend the day on the bank of the 

 river, while the mules roamed into the woods and along the wide flat, 

 which overflows in the rainy season. 



The department of the Beni is the ninth and last in Bolivia. It 



