SAGACITY OF THE INDIANS. 



269 



is the Indian calls our attention to them. They understand the man- 

 ners of the savages too. Sometimes we all sleep on the beach ; at 

 other times in the canoe. When we keep afloat, they secure the bow 

 of the canoe to a stake run into the sandy bottom. When night over- 

 takes us, we pull silently along, until it becomes so dark that no one 

 can see us come to for a rest. Our paddles are in motion again before 

 the break of day, to avoid being caught asleep by others. In this way 

 the chances of being fired into by the arrows of the wild men are pretty 

 certainly reduced to broad daylight, when we take mid channel. 



Our crew know tolerably well what parts of the country are populated, 

 and when there is a probability of meeting their enemy. We find the 

 party depending entirely upon the judgment of this aboriginal race, who 

 are a generous set of fellows, constantly offering to share their game with 

 us. We return the compliment when we can, but there are more fish 

 than turkeys. The men tell me that the Chacobo savages inhabit the 

 west bank of the river, and a tribe called " Houbarayos," the most un- 

 merciful, live on the east bank ; therefore, we are between two fires. The 

 soundings taken the second day from Exaltacion were one hundred and 

 two feet deep — the very bottom of the Madeira Plate. We have reached 

 a rocky formation passing through it, and beyond it the soundings de- 

 crease. Rocks stand up in mid-channel where we find forty-five feet 

 water ; while it requires more careful navigation, the river is 400 yards 

 wide, with plenty of room for a steamer to pass. 



September 3, at 8 a. m., thermometer, 72°; water, 78°; wind, south- 

 east. The night was foggy. As the day promises to be clear, we break 

 out our cargo, wash out the canoe, and restow. The internal arrange- 

 ments are the same we had on board the Canichanas. We passed the 

 mouth of a small stream emptying into the Mamore from the eastward. 

 During the rainy season this stream is navigable for canoes. 



September 4. — We find small creeks running in on both sides of the 

 river. After passing about five miles of rocky banks, the country be- 

 comes more and more thickly wooded. We breakfast on young gulls 

 and old green parrots, the latter very poor living, even when made into 

 soup. The men dip their fingers into the pot ; the captain carries along 

 with him a spoon made of horn, which he carefully wipes on the 

 tail of his camecita before taking his seat at breakfast. He reclines on 

 the bank while the others prepare the meals, after he has waited 

 upon the "patron," one of the men appears before him with a cup of 

 water, or light for his cigar. The crew never sing or whistle on a 

 voyage like this ; it is generally understood such noises disturb the 

 savages. They quietly laugh at monkeys at midday, and joke the 



