And how could he be expected -- I went on, after disposing of the giamanchi difficulty -- to find the guard all night, and leave us to sleep in slothful ease? Surely to this we could never consent. We would do our fair share. Indeed he must warn his men not to approach to within fifty yards of our camp, for our sentries would fire on suspicion -- and who could distinguish between enemy and friend at night? In the common cause we must take half the burden on our shoulders, and we must carry it well. Too much care could not be taken now that we were so near the enemy, and what a disaster it would be if in our zeal we killed some of our own friends! No, there was no getting away from the fact that they must be very careful not to approach our bivouac at night.

    Day after day we pushed on up-stream, moving too quickly for Jack to get a chance of prospecting the likely spots. It may at first sight appear strange that we should not deliberately make enough time to search for gold indications in a systematic way, but the fact was that we were making such fine progress with the aid of the large war-party with which we had joined up that we were very chary of interrupting the impetus of our forward movement, which began each day at sunrise and continued till just before sunset with only one halt for a drink at mid-day. As regularly as clockwork we

    Night after night we had to exercise the greatest care so as to foil, peacefully if possible, the infinite variety of tricks by which the Jívaros attempted to obtain possession of our equipment. Our powers of diplomacy were strained to the utmost limit. It became more and more obvious that what we carried with us was a greater attraction than anything the Huambizas could have. Our heads, too, would make just as fine a set of trophies as any others.

    Our camp was always pitched apart from the rest. Even so, they might have rushed us if they had had the courage of the North American Indian, or the immortal "Fuzzy-Wuzzy." But no one of them could be found to face certain death that his fellows might win the day. This we knew, and herein lay our security, for if it came to a question of numerical superiority we were lost.

    One day we came to a place where the river had cut a new channel and left the still warm water in a loop of the old bed. Here we had a chance of making some highly interesting experiments with that freak of nature, the electric eel. The water at this point was teeming with these fish and with rays, both of which are considered as great delicacies by all who inhabit the banks of the Amazon rivers. The former grow to an average length of three to four feet, being as many inches

    We finally picked up a small eel two feet long, and put it in a pail of water. We satisfied ourselves that it was perfectly safe to touch the fish, the pail or the water with a wooden stick, tending to prove that electricity is generated, and that the shock is not due to any form of vibration.

    Their peculiar internal organism makes it possible to prepare them for eating by simply slicing them as one does a loaf of bread, no cleaning being necessary. Their meat is pure white and firm, and they make an excellent dish when fried. In this respect they are superior to the rays of which we also caught many.

    It has occurred to me that the risk of swimming any stream infested with electric eels would be very great, for, as the natives of the Amazon basin confirm, they attack and kill other living things with the strong current with which nature has charged them. Two or

    It may be worth mentioning that it was here that I discovered for myself, with no previous knowledge on the subject, that those beautiful coffee coloured seeds which are picked up both on the Atlantic and on the Pacific shores of the two Americas, and are known as sea-beans, grow in huge quantities along the banks of the Upper Amazon and its tributaries. They grow in a pod like peas on a plant and when seeding time comes round large numbers of them fall into the water and begin their journey of several thousand miles. They are, of course, treasured by many people as a gift from the sea, which, strictly speaking, they are not. Doubtless they abound on the banks of many other tropical rivers. We put them to no practical use, but it was at least amusing to find "sea-beans" over three thousand miles from the sea by the course they have to follow.

    Many a time, too, on that journey up the Santiago, exploring the vicinity of our camp, while the Indians were out with their blow-guns after game, we came across fine vanilla-plants. These plants grow there in profusion, clinging to every kind of tree. The pods are twelve inches in length, being fatter and more fragrant than the ordinary commercial article. Their flower is like a small orchid, to which family they belong. The dark humid forests of the Amazon produce enormous numbers of beautiful specimens of every member of this same family, from the huge scarlet bell-shaped variety of the plant which weighs upwards to

    A fortnight had passed since Tuhuimpui and his men had joined us. We were becoming a little easier in our minds about the attitude of the Jívaros toward ourselves. They seemed to have realized the impossibility of getting the better of our vigilance, and to have turned their attention to the question of attacking the Huambizas with a heart as we approached nearer and nearer to the zone where we expected to get in touch with them. They wore an air as of men disappointed of their first objective, but determined to make the best of a bad job.

    On the evening of October 23rd Morse and I went off up-stream a few hundred yards to take a look round the next bend, the party having halted for the night earlier than usual, to make a careful search in the forest for indications of the recent presence of the enemy. We had a curious experience with an anaconda (the fourth and last which I found alive in the Amazon basin). I think the incident is worth recording, as being unique in all my travels, and as showing how inoffensive these great reptiles are during their period of dormancy. I cannot do better than quote from my original impressions:

    "Having sighted the great reptile coiled up on a fallen tree which lay half in the water, half on the bank, we paddled quietly up to within a yard or two for closer inspection. It lay in a pyramid of coils, apparently sleeping. Surprised that it did not move, we splashed

    I did not enlarge very much at the time on the impression which the experience made on my mind, but it has stayed with me ever since in a very vivid form. It would appear that at one season of the year this otherwise alert, powerful, swift-moving creature lives in a state of slothful torpor from which nothing but the rudest shock will awake it. The contrast is astounding, and in this particular case all the more so, as there seemed to be no outward sign of any reason for the anaconda's dormancy. It was long and thin (thinner indeed than the three others I had seen). It might have been expected to uncoil and lash out at the first sign of our approach, but instead it behaved like a tame angle-worm.

    While on the subject, I recall a story which the semi-civilized Indians on the Napo once told me. A canoe full of them was actually attacked by a great anaconda, overturned, and swamped. When the crew had swam

    On the 26th of October, no sign of the Huambizas had yet been seen. During the morning of that day we were paddling along in the usual formation, Indian file, when suddenly a commotion started among the leading canoes, followed by a "trombone concert." Something which had been picked up out of the water was being handed round for inspection. On pushing up to the front of the column, we found that the centre of interest was indeed worthy of attention. It was no less than a piece of charred wood. So at last we were in touch with the enemy. After a lot of talk it was decided that we should push on and try and find the probable point from which it had drifted.

    Paddling ahead for the remainder of the morning, we halted on a very long sand-bar for a mid-day rest. There was a feeling of war in the air. The Jívaro party seemed to have settled down at last with a will to the prospect of attacking their long-standing enemies. There remained but one stepping-stone to be crossed before they would reach a state of white-hot zeal for the attack -- the omens must be read.

    The meal over, the Indians disappeared into the forest which came down to the edge of the sand. In a few moments they were back, each man carrying a branch from a tree which bears a small green berry. (I was never able to identify it.) Some of the berries they stripped from the twigs, and the branches themselves

    I was taken aback to say the least of it, for it seemed to me that he had very little hope of success, for all the effect a row of branches would have on a clear blue sky, the same sky which had smiled on us since we turned up the Santiago from the Marañon. In deference to his gravity, however, I said nothing more. On the contrary, I persuaded Jack and the rest to come along with me and take part in the show. So we cut our branches (we were not allowed to bring any but the right kind) and planted them.

    The berries which they had pulled the Jívaros put into snails' shells, and threw into the river with a good deal of tom-foolery in the way of chanting and solemn gesture. (We used to call this kind of thing "monkey-business").

    And then we simply embarked in the canoes and left the playa to itself.

    Within half an hour, gentle rain fell. A light cloud had gathered I know not whence for the first time for three weeks. Now it may be said that it was a pure coincidence, but it was at the same time very strange that Tuhuimpui's efforts should so strikingly produce a result after so many perfect days had passed. It should be remembered that the rainy season does not set in, properly speaking, until the middle of January. Even down to the smallest detail the Aguaruna chief was right.

    The gentlest of sun-showers fell that afternoon -- enough to freshen us all up, but only enough. Morse and I discussed the process of rain-making with the Indians. We discovered that Tuhuimpui had been making a test of his favour with the god Yacu-Mámam, the controller of Rivers and Rain, and that had he left the newly cut branches planted in the playa below to wither and die, our attack would never have been made. Without the River God's help, disaster would have overtaken us; but this gentle shower to refresh the tokens planted for his favour was his answering sign of approval and protection in their mooted ventures.

    "You see the power I wield," grinned Tuhuimpui, finally. Suddenly his manner changed. Gravely he gave utterance to the sentiment which lies closest to the heart of every Jívaro. "Now indeed we shall return with many heads".... But in a moment he was boasting again. "This is nothing to what will fall to-night," he said mysteriously. "It will thunder, there will be lightning; a great wind will blow; a storm will rage; Yacu-Mámam will smile on me."

    We began to think there might be something in what Tuhuimpui said after all, but the thought passed and we were soon joking about "those mighty strong houses we should have to build to keep the rain out."

    By six o'clock that evening we had found what the Jívaros had been looking for since we picked up the piece of charcoal. We discovered the mouth of a stream which ran into the Santiago, covered so effectually with heavy undergrowth that it was invisible from the centre of the main river. Why, I do not know, but the Antipas and Aguarunas who guided our destiny decided at once that this was where the enemy was to be found. So a scouting party of four picked men was told off to take a canoe and spy out the land. They slid off noiselessly

    The chiefs signed to the rest of us to make for the bank of the Santiago opposite the mouth of the stream. Here we left the canoes, climbing ashore with great care on logs which had fallen over the bank, so as to leave no trail. Tuhuimpui was very particular that we should land in this way, himself supervising the operation. Next, a party of Jívaros collected all the canoes, moored them to the trees with bejuco strands, and half-filled them with mud dug from the water's edge. They sank from sight one by one, until of all that gallant array of craft there was no sign left. The bejucos appeared to be but vines which had lost their hold and fallen into the river -- only a tiny detail of the vast net-work of tangled undergrowth which chokes the forest from end to end of the Amazon basin. The Antipas withdrew in the tracks of the main party which had moved into the forest, and anyone passing the spot in dugouts five minutes later could never have suspected the presence of a war-party.

    Dusk was gathering by this time. Tuhuimpui, in solemn preparation for the storm which was due to rise, ordered the building of shelters for all his men and a specially well-built one for his white allies. In an hour the camp was pitched -- one half for the Aguarunas, the other for the Antipas, our own shelter in the middle. Each of them was about thirty yards from us. We set to work to thin out the undergrowth all round our camp by way of precaution. There was no knowing what these friends of ours might be doing if rain fell a second time at their bidding! We felt cramped, too, and hedged in by darkness after the safety of the river and the open playas. I think as a matter

    Be that as it may, we detected no suspicion of foul play that night, though not one of us slept in the inky blackness of the forest. Anyone who has walked through a long railway tunnel can appreciate the blackness of the woods at night. This is the nearest comparison to anything in the world as we know it that I can get. Both tunnel and forest are clothed with that absolutely palpable gloom which seems to have its being, not in the surrounding space, but in the very retina of the eye itself.

    We lit fires round our shelter, as the Jívaros themselves had done, and sat up for many an hour, spectators of the weirdest scene I have ever witnessed.

    Tuhuimpui arrived at our shelter with a great gourd full of what looked for all the world like chutney sauce.

    "We are going to paint," he announced. A short interrogation sufficed to satisfy myself that this was huito, a kind of giant walnut, of which the outer shell contains a stain or dye, in just the same way as a butternut or a black walnut. The thorny root of a palm is used as a grater to reduce the outer shell to pulp. With this the skin can be dyed jet-black, simply by rubbing it in in the wet state. All the Jívaro tribes use it to paint themselves for battle, and are indeed loath to attack without doing so. It may be that they want a distinguishing sign so that in the excitement and confusion of the fight in close country a glance will suffice to tell friend from foe. I think, however, that this is a very unlikely explanation of the custom.

    The same huito is used extensively in the small towns, villages, and posts of Ecuador and Peru bordering on the Jívaro territory, by half-castes who are not as dark as the Indians, nor yet as light as the Spanish. They (chiefly women) stain their faces, necks, arms and hands with it in the belief that when it comes off it takes some of the black with it! They go about their ordinary occupations with it on, it being accepted by all as powder is on the beach. So durable is the stain that only time will bring it off; three weeks or a month are required to efface it altogether. This temporary sacrifice of appearance is willingly made in their desire to cast off the taint of Indian blood.

    We all readily agreed to paint up in preparation for the attack on the morrow. So we stripped, determined to do the thing thoroughly, and each saw to it that his companions did not overlook any odd corners. Even Jack's bald spot did not escape attention. The effect of the application of this dye is not immediately apparent. So it was not till morning that we noticed any change in our appearance. The rising sun, however, revealed to us the full possibilities of huito. Not only our skin, but even our hair and eyes seemed to have changed color overnight. We laughed till we were nearly sick. The Jívaros hearing the uproar, thought we were having a war-dance of our own. Tuhuimpui came over and inspected us, surveying with a face unmoved a scene the absurdity of which no white man could have resisted.

    But to return to the night's vigil. A moment after Tuhuimpui left us, he returned to tell us of the safe arrival of the scouting party. The enemy had been

    Having painted themselves from head to foot, the Indians began to prepare themselves for the war-dance. Each camp built a huge fire, and supplies of fuel for the long night were stacked beside the shelters. At a given signal every man leapt to his feet, grabbed his spear, and all joined in a great capering throng about the blazing fires; with raucous yells they danced and danced and danced, two bounding swaying circles careering round the blaze, spears shaken in grim emphasis of the threats they hurled at their unsuspecting enemies.

    Now the whole crowd would be scampering round the flames, now a few tireless warriors who had outlasted their fellows; sometimes a solitary enthusiast would prance and yell to the delight of the squatting onlookers, uttering curses and vowing vengeance on the Huambizas who had stolen from him a wife.

    Suddenly with a clap of thunder the promised storm broke on the scene. Here was everything that Tuhuimpui had predicted -- one of those summer storms of great intensity but short duration which occur in the tropics alone. Once more the necromancer's spell had worked. Even as he had said, the wind raged and the rain fell in sheets to the accompaniment of the thunder and the vivid lightning. So great was the fury of the elements that we had to post a sentry outside our shelter to warn us of falling limbs. All around

    In half an hour it had passed, and we were out again, uncovering the fire and restoring it to life while the dying wind swept the last drops of moisture from the forest roof. It had passed, but left behind in every Jívaro heart an undying faith in the prowess of their chief. Sure of their victory now, the savages bounded to the dance with redoubled energy, cavorting and pirouetting in a mad frenzy of hatred and battle-lust. All night long they kept it up, a pack of tireless demons. We on our part had no recourse but to sit with our rifles at hand and wait for dawn. Sleep had no charms for us while that waking delirium possessed the Indians, fanned to white-heat by the splendid augury of the storm.

    It is useless for me to attempt an explanation of the prodigious success with which Tuhuimpui met that day. I cannot allow that it was merely a case of coincidence. The correctness in detail of his prognostications may suffice to confound that theory. No; either he knew by some sixth sense which many animals possess that there was rain somewhere near (a thing almost unbelievable, since there was apparently no difference in the barometric conditions of that day and the preceding days) or else he was able to detect the coming of the rain by a minute observation of the movements of certain animals, or even insects, signs which would mean nothing to any but the most highly trained child of the woods.

    With the coming of dawn, groups of weary savages were to be seen lying about and preparing leisurely for the fight. Exhausted by the night's revelry, they seemed but poorly fitted for the trials of battle. But our ideas

    Here and there they strolled round the dying embers, busy with rouge-pots, feathers and loin-cloths, black from head to foot with the huito which had taken effect during the night hours, their black pointed teeth bared in a grin of anticipation -- a band of veritable demons straight from Hell. But grouped round the fire which still burned before the central shelter of the camp was a company of creatures which fell not far behind them. Tousled, bewhiskered, stained the same ebony black, we sat and cooked our breakfast. Game, it was agreed, outstripped the rest of us in hideousness. With his mop of sandy hair, a three month's old ginger beard, blue eyes, great thick-set body half-clothed in ragged shirt and pants, every inch of skin as black as night, he was indeed a fearsome creature. He ended his days long ago somewhere in the snowfields of the Klondyke, a fitting burial-ground for such a wild, untameable spirit as he. But his image as he was when the sun rose on October 27th, 1899, will live for many a long day to come in the memories of us who were his companions.

    Breakfast over -- for the Jívaros a drink of giamanchi sufficed -- we all moved off to the water's edge. The moment had come for the attack. The savages with their new loin-cloths, rouged faces, tufts of lumbiqui feathers (red and yellow balls of fluff) in their ears, looked a formidable company. Quietly we raised the dugouts, and made across to a sand-spit which extended from the mouth of the stream, up which we were to go, to a point some two hundred yards down-stream, an excellent base for the day's operations. Here a party

    Led up by the scouts who had come in the night before, in a long single file, we made our way into the forest, and moved up the left bank of the stream. According to plan the savages split up into two parties, the Antipas made off into the jungle on a detour, to take as their objective the further of the two settlements which had been selected for the raid, while the Aguarunas clung to the bank of the stream, moving on the nearer. We (black) white men brought up the rear of this latter column under the personal supervision of Tuhuimpui, who lived in fear and trembling of our clumsy movements. Game alone, had he come within a quarter of a mile of the enemy before the surprise had been sprung, would have queered the pitch. It was one of his whims never to go barefoot, with the result that he was forever the victim of his own shoes. They caught in the vine-roots, they were sucked off his feet by the mud, they slipped in the moss and they were ever half-full of dirt -- an interminable nuisance which their owner could never he persuaded to abandon. Tuhuimpui protested in vain, while Game went crashing through the undergrowth with the delicacy of a tapir. At last it was too much for our chief. He stopped us. We were to wait till the attack had begun.

    No sooner had we halted than there came to our ears the whang-whang of a machete on wood. So we were actually within earshot of a settlement at last.

    It is at this point in my narrative that I must pause a moment to make a few comments on Jívaro methods of warfare. They are utterly distasteful to the white man -- the true white man who is brought up to a code of fair play. The attackers display no bravery, the attacked have no chance to defend themselves. As a cat creeps up behind a bird which is digging up worms, so the Jívaro attacks his enemy. A square hand-to-hand fight he will not entertain. With all his paint and feathers he is, unlike the North American Indian, a coward at heart. I must have given the impression in the foregoing pages that our heart was in the business; but such was not the case. We used the war-party for our own ends -- they were our only means of getting upriver with our kit, once Pitacunca had deserted us. To have left them to attack the Huambizas alone would have been to stamp ourselves in their eyes as cowards. To have turned them from their purpose would have been to place ourselves between two enemies, each waiting as anxiously as the other for our heads. So there was nothing for it but to indulge Tuhuimpui's caprice in the hope that the affair would prove to be but an incident in our onward movement.

    So we sat and listened to that single distant clanging of steel on wood, the only sign of human life in all that vast forest into which a moment ago two hundred men had melted. Whang-whang came the sharp-cut noise of the blade falling on a paddle which was never to be finished.

    With a hideous yell the van of the attackers leapt from cover, a bare ten yards from the nearest of their prey. We jumped to our feet at a word from Tuhuimpui, and in a moment were rushing to the scene of the slaughter. (The moment was a tragic one for Game, who left his

    The collection of the trophies -- We retire -- An antitoxin -- An operation -- Fires are lighted -- Sacred rites -- Hot sand -- The festival of rejoicing.