AMONG THE YURACARÉ INDIANS OF THE RIO CHIMORÉ
True to his promise, Padre Fulgencio sent the Indians to Todos Santos,
and on the morning of August 2 we packed into canoes such of our
equipment as was necessary for the trip and started across the brown
water of the Chaparé.
On the other side of the river there was no clearing; the trees grew
down to the water’s edge, and the moment the canoes were left behind we
plunged into the perpetual gloom of the forest.
An indistinct trail led into the heart of the jungle. The Indians
adjusted our belongings on their backs, securing them with broad strips
of bark placed across the forehead; then they set out at a good pace,
a number of women and children carrying boiled yuccas and plantains,
trudging at the rear of the procession.
There was not much undergrowth, but the ground, from which there is
little evaporation on account of the dense canopy overhead, was very
muddy. Every few rods we came to a deep streamlet which had to be
crossed on the trunks of fallen trees; some of these slimy bridges were
sixty feet long and almost impassable to us, but the Indians strode
across as unconcernedly as geckos. Half-way to the mission the Indians
stopped for lunch and a short rest, and by noon we reached the edge of
the clearing, having covered a distance of twelve miles.
After a tramp of half a mile through weedy fields of maize and yuccas,
we reached the mission-buildings--a few dozen low grass huts clustering
around an open square. At one end rose two structures of large size
which served as the church and general meeting-place. Near the centre
of the clearing a stately cross had been erected, hewn from the heart
of a giant ceiba.
The priest was delighted to see us and spared no effort to make us
comfortable. We were soon installed in a room of one of the buildings
which served as a boys’ dormitory, and a short time later started out
to inspect our surroundings.
At first the Indians were reticent and would peer at us from a
distance. This was true particularly of the children, but as the days
wore on we made friends with them, and from both the people themselves
and the priest we learned a great deal about their history and habits.
The name Yuracaré, according to D’Orbigny, was given to them by the
Quechuas, and means “white man”; this is most inappropriate, as they
are of a decided brown color, although perhaps averaging lighter than
the Quechuas. They were first discovered by Viedma in 1768.
At the present time, at least, the Yuracarés are a people of the hot,
humid lowlands. Those who have not been captured and brought to the
missions, or who escaped the unenviable fate of having been taken
from their forest home by private “slaving expeditions,” live along
the smaller branches of the streams, which eventually find their way
into the Mamoré; this includes particularly the Chaparé, Chimoré, the
Ichilo, and the Isiboro.
There were about four hundred Indians residing at the mission. Although
attempts have been made intermittently to civilize these people for
more than a hundred years, there were long intervals when the work had
to be abandoned, and the families naturally returned to their homes in
the wilderness. Nearly all of the present aggregation had been brought
together during the last few years. Newcomers are added to their number
frequently. The priest, learning of other families far up some unmapped
_quebrada_ or streamlet, takes a few of the men who have learned to
place confidence in him and whom he trusts, and starts forth on long
canoe voyages in search of them. They approach the hidden dwelling
suddenly, surround it, and persuade the occupants to accompany them
immediately, giving them only an hour or two in which to collect
their few belongings. Occasionally the Indians whom they seek learn
of the approach of the emissaries and hide before their arrival; then
the priest returns to the mission, his long trip having been made to
no purpose. When, should the expedition prove to be successful, the
families have departed to the waiting canoes, their huts are burned and
the plantations destroyed. Knowing that neither home nor food have been
left behind, they are not so apt to run away from their new quarters
and go back to their old dwelling-places. I heard of no instance where
they resisted this deportation.
The Yuracarés are a tall, well-built people of a rather docile
disposition; however, the older generation never wholly becomes
reconciled to the new mode of life, and remains at the mission only for
reasons which I will explain later.
In their wild state they live in small family parties, obtaining their
subsistence from the forest, which abounds in game, and from their
fields of yuccas. Their native costume, a long, shirt-like garment
called _tipoy_, is made from the fibrous bark of a tree; at the mission
this has largely been replaced by cotton clothes. Each family has been
provided with a separate hut of adequate size, where the parents and
very small children live. The boys and girls over five or six years
of age are under the constant supervision of the priest, and attend
his classes; at night they sleep in separate locked dormitories, which
prevents their returning to their homes, and also keeps the parents
from running away, as they will not leave without their children.
Padre Fulgencio also explained that this kept them from observing and
copying the customs of their elders. He recognizes the impossibility of
reclaiming the forest-reared savage, and devotes practically all his
efforts to the younger generation.
The Indians marry at an early age, the boys at sixteen and the girls at
fourteen. In their wild state each family rears four or five children;
at the mission never more than two, and frequently none at all. Should
the first-born be a girl, she is permitted slowly to starve to death.
The priest has inflicted severe punishment upon them in his efforts to
break this custom, but so far all his work has been in vain.
As far as possible they are discouraged in the celebration of their
native festivals, but it frequently occurs that the entire populace
appear with faces gayly decorated with black and blue dots, and all
join in weird songs and dances, the purpose of which remains a secret,
as they cannot be induced to tell. They worship no divinity, being in
this respect in a class almost by themselves.
Food at the mission is abundant. The clearing comprises several hundred
acres and is planted in maize, rice, yuccas, plantains, and sweet
potatoes. Like most savages, they have an intoxicating drink, made of
the boiled root of the yucca. The women dig great quantities of it,
peel and thoroughly cook it, after which a certain per cent is chewed
and expectorated into a huge earthenware jar; the remainder is mashed
and thrown in also, and water added. The following day fermentation has
started and the greenish yellow liquid is ready for use.
At the mission the Indians have learned the use of salt, and this fact
perhaps as much as any induces them to remain, for deprived of it they
cannot long exist. A small amount is given to each individual at stated
periods--only just enough to supply his wants until time for the next
distribution. There are instances on record where families have escaped
and gone back to their nomadic life for eighteen months, then returned
voluntarily to promise future obedience, so great was their craving for
salt.
[Illustration: Yuracarés chewing yucca-roots for making casire.]
[Illustration: Yuracaré women and children.]
The rites attending the death and burial of a man are among the curious
and persisting ceremonies of the Yuracarés. When the husband dies the
wife removes all her wearing apparel and casts herself upon his
body, where she remains weeping and lamenting until the time of the
funeral, which is a day or two later. All the women squat in a circle
around the deceased, raise their voices in sorrowful wails, and recount
the heroic deeds and good characteristics of the dead. The men drink
_casire_ and dig a deep hole in the ground; when the time for the
burial arrives the body is carefully deposited therein, together with
all his possessions, and the wife’s clothing is placed on top, after
which the earth is thrown in.
The weapons of this tribe consist entirely of bows made of
_chonta_-palm wood, five or six feet high, and various kinds of arrows.
The shaft of the latter is always composed of slender bamboo, but the
points vary greatly; thus for large game there is a long double-edged
blade of another variety of bamboo; slender, barbed points of _chonta_
are used for birds, and a long, sharp spike of palm-wood for fish. They
are wholly ignorant of the use of the deadly _curare_ poison.
We were fortunate in timing our visit to the Chimoré for the dry
season. Additions were being made to the already large areas under
cultivation, and for this purpose the Indians were cutting down
forest. They were required to work four days each week, the remaining
three being devoted to fishing and hunting. All the men and boys
participated in this work and seemed to enjoy it thoroughly. At first
the undergrowth was removed; this naturally led to the discovery of
many strange animals, all of which were promptly brought to us for
examination. The number and variety of snakes was astonishing; even
after having spent years in a similar type of country, I had never
suspected that so many existed, which shows how inconspicuous they are
until one actually goes over the ground with a comb, as it were. They
captured green boas, several species of the fer-de-lance, and many
others which we did not recognize. Some of them were poisonous, and
others were innocuous. Among the former was one which in appearance
closely resembled the green boa, but its attitude was defiant and even
aggressive; examination showed that it possessed long fangs. One day
several of the men came running into our room and shouted “_Pisisi_.”
We followed them to the clearing, and found that they had discovered
a huge bushmaster coiled under a log. They tried to drive the reptile
out with long poles, but it refused to move; finally the priest pulled
the enormous creature bodily from its hiding-place with the aid of a
hooked stick; it was very sluggish and made no attempt to strike. After
shooting it we found that it measured nearly seven feet in length, with
a diameter of five inches. The fangs, over an inch long, emitted about
a tablespoonful of yellowish poison.
The bushmaster, called _surucucú_ in Brazil, is truly a terrible
creature. It grows to a length of ten feet or more, and attains a
great thickness. A snake of that size has fangs an inch and a half
long and injects nearly a tablespoonful of poison at a single thrust.
The ground-color is reddish yellow crossed by black bands, sometimes
forming a series of X’s along the back. It does not take kindly to
captivity and dies of starvation after a few months of confinement. It
is one of the few snakes which are supposed to incubate their eggs.
After selecting a hole in the ground or in a stump the reptile lays a
dozen or more eggs; then it coils up on top of them and does not leave
the vicinity until they hatch; at such times it is very irritable, and
will strike with deadly results any creature which disturbs it. The
poison acts rapidly, and I heard of a case where an Indian died in less
than half an hour after having been bitten.
There were also small brown salamanders and lizards with spiny backs
that resembled horned toads. Perhaps the rarest catch of all was a
splendid example of the curious cane-rat (_Dactylomys_), an animal
seldom encountered on account of its rarity and secretive habits.
It resembles a large rat, being twenty-five inches long, and of a
dark-gray color; the toes are divided into pairs in order to enable it
to easily climb slender stalks, and instead of claws it has nails.
The pupils of the eyes are elliptical, like a cat’s; when annoyed it
uttered a hoarse scream, a sound occasionally heard at night, but which
we did not heretofore recognize.
After the brush had been removed for the distance of a hundred yards
or more from the edge of the clearing, the Indians began to cut down
the trees; some of these were of enormous size, especially the ceibas;
one that I measured was twenty-five feet through the base, counting
the supporting, bracket-like roots, and fifteen men hacked at it at
the same time. When the tree fell they set up a wild cheering and took
great delight in watching this monarch of the forest tumble to the
ground.
Three days of each week were devoted to hunting and fishing. Usually
the Indians went many miles away, in small parties, returning promptly
at the expiration of their time. The children rarely accompanied them,
and then only after having obtained special permission from the priest.
Upon their return they brought baskets of fish and meat--enough to
last them until their next journey into the wilds. Nearly all fish
and game were taken with bow and arrow. To secure the former they
selected a small creek up the shallow water of which huge shoals of
fish went to feed, and then shot them. After a sufficient supply had
been obtained they erected a framework of sticks, built a fire under it
and slowly roasted and smoked them; later they were packed in baskets
between layers of green leaves and taken home. They also brought
numbers of freshly killed animals for our examination, for in keeping
with his promise Padre Fulgencio had announced from the pulpit that
all creatures taken by them were to be shown to us first, and we were
permitted to select any that were of scientific value. In this manner a
number of animals new to us were added to the collection.
The curl-breasted toucan (_Beauharnaisia_) is one of those birds
of the Amazonian basin which is seldom seen by travellers, or even
naturalists, who make every effort to learn something of its
habits. Bates records having seen a number during his eleven years
of exploration, and on one occasion he was attacked by a flock after
he had wounded one of them. We therefore considered it an unusually
good streak of fortune to find a large flock inhabiting a section of
the forest several miles from the mission. They were wary, nervous
creatures, and spent their time in the top of tall trees from which
one of our men succeeded in shooting several with arrows before
the remainder took alarm and flew away; they never returned to the
locality. The bird is black above, with yellow underparts barred with
black; the feathers on the top of the head are flattened and curled,
resembling shining scales, and are drawn together to form a ridge.
On the throat and breast the brilliant yellow feathers are tipped
with glossy black dots, resembling beads of jet. Unfortunately they
were not nesting, but the Indians reported having found the two white
eggs in cavities in the taller trees. Another bird not frequently
encountered is the giant frogmouth (_Nyctibius_), which, while not
so rare, perhaps, is seldom seen, as it is nocturnal in habits and
spends the days squatting horizontally upon some thick branch, where
it resembles a gray lichen, or is altogether invisible. When the time
for domestic cares arrives the bird lays a single white egg on the
branch which has served as its perch, or at the junction of a limb and
the tree-trunk, without making any sort of a nest. Doubtless many eggs
roll off this precarious location and are broken. It feeds upon beetles
and insects which are caught on the wing, and some observers say that
it also catches small birds; this latter I am inclined to question.
One individual that we collected was twenty-two inches long, with an
expanse of wings of thirty inches. The mouth when opened measured five
inches from tip to tip of the bill, and was three inches wide; but the
œsophagus was less than half an inch in diameter, which would prevent
it from swallowing anything larger than a humming-bird.
The nights at the mission were always pleasant. The priest usually
conducted a short service in the chapel, and then we sat in front of
his hut for an hour’s chat, while the children romped and played before
being sent to bed. Sometimes one of the boys brought out a queer drum;
the ends were made of skin taken from the neck of a jabiru stork. He
beat it in slow rhythm, swaying his head from side to side with each
low thud. The girls placed their arms around one another’s waists,
forming lines of threes, and shuffled forward three steps and back,
swinging their bodies all the while; suddenly they would whirl around
once, take hold of one another’s hands, and then the long line swept
around at such a rapid pace that the individuals at the ends invariably
went sprawling some distance away. After tiring of this or any other
pastime upon which they were engaged, they lined up and said a “_Buenas
noches, Padre_,” in chorus. Then they ran away to the sleeping quarters.
After spending nearly two weeks at the mission we accepted the priest’s
invitation to accompany him on a short trip down the Chimoré. Twenty
young men and boys were selected as paddlers; they started early one
morning, taking all of our personal luggage with them; a large number
of girls and women followed soon after, carrying baskets of plantains,
yuccas, and other provisions. The missionary, Boyle, and I brought up
the rear, and encouraged the few stragglers we met on the way, for the
distance from the mission to the river is three miles, through the
virgin forest.
The Chimoré is of about the same width as the Chaparé, although the
water is in normal times somewhat clearer. It rises far to the south
and is formed by the junction of the Blanco and Icona. Some distance
below it unites with the waters of the Ichilo, a mighty river flowing
from the south, through a solitary and unknown wilderness, and up which
Padre Fulgencio had ascended a number of miles on a previous trip. In
latitude 15° 30´ South, the Ichilo and Chaparé join, and form the Rio
Mamorecillo, which lower in its course is known as the Mamoré.
The meaning of Mamoré, which is a Yuracaré word, is “mother of the
human race.” They have a legend to the effect that far away, at
the source of the Sajta, which is the beginning of the furthermost
tributary of the mighty river, there are three rocks of pyramidal
shape that rise in terraces, one above the other, and in the heart of
which the stream rises. In the very beginning of things this rock gave
birth to the first people, for which reason it is called “Mamoré.”
Later the name was also given to the river because its water, teeming
with fish, supplied them with food and offered an easy highway for the
dissemination of the race.
Arrived at the point of embarkation, the men began to load the five
canoes which were waiting, and the women built a fire and cooked
lunch. In a short time everything was ready and the canoes moved
easily down-stream. The paddlers were adepts at their work, and as a
good deal of rivalry existed between the different crews, they kept
up an almost continuous race, with the natural consequence that we
made good time. The scenery along the Chimoré is exactly like that on
the upper courses of the many rivers of tropical South America; there
is the same monotony of the yellow water highway, flanked by walls
of deepest green. One thing that impresses the traveller as much as
any other is the immensity of the silent, uninhabited areas; and also
their comparative worthlessness. For days and even weeks one may enter
deeper and deeper into the heart of the undefiled wilderness, and see
always the same dark forest, the hurrying, mysterious streams, and
the rafts of low, threatening clouds; hear the annoying buzz and feel
the poisonous sting of the insect swarms, and swelter in the humid,
enervating climate. The greater part of this country can never be
cultivated to any extent, as the annual floods cover it to a depth of
many feet; there are very few eminences safe from the inundations,
and these are of inconsiderable size. The person who pictures the
untrodden tropics as a paradise of fruits and flowers, teeming with
gorgeous-colored creatures and inhabited by tribes of gracious Indians
whose one desire in life is to serve the traveller or explorer, has yet
to cut his eye-teeth in the field of exploration.
Our Indians were all well armed and frequently took long shots at
some of the creatures that ventured to show themselves in the early
mornings or just before dark. They were expert archers and even shot
large birds on the wing as the flocks passed overhead. Occasionally
an otter appeared, always a hundred yards or more away, swimming
rapidly with only the head showing above the water. These animals were
favorite targets, and from my seat in the middle of the canoe I had an
unobstructed view of the arrows in flight as they left the bow of the
man in front; he did not aim at his prey, but quite some distance above
it. At the twang of the bow the arrow sped into the air, ascending
slightly at first, and then dropping as it approached the mark; it
described a curve exactly like a bullet fired from a rifle, and
remained in a perfectly horizontal position during the entire flight.
When making camp on a sand-bank the Indians stuck their bows and arrows
in the ground, near the shelters; this prevented their being stepped
on and broken. In damp or rainy weather the arrows warped badly, but
it was only a few minutes’ work to heat them near a fire and bend them
back into alignment.
Tropical rivers are noted for their treachery. One can never be
certain of their actions or character, even a few hours hence. We
had a striking example of this on the Chimoré. Camp had been made on
an extensive sand-bank one day at noon, as we planned to spend a few
hours hunting and fishing in the neighborhood. The sun shone brightly
and there was nothing to indicate a change of conditions in any manner
whatever; but scarcely had the canoes been unloaded and a fire built
over which we intended to do the cooking when we were startled by a
dull roar that grew louder with each passing second; before we had
time to hurriedly gather our belongings and throw them into the canoes
a foam-capped, seething wall of water was upon us, sweeping down the
river and carrying away everything in its path. As the tidal wave,
several feet high, dashed over the sand-bank, the imprisoned air shot
up from the great cracks and rents in the sun-baked earth, and set the
raging mass of muddy water to hissing and boiling. In a few minutes
only the higher mounds of sand projected above the roaring inferno,
and against these hungry tongues of water lapped greedily until their
bases were undermined. Then the whole mass crumbled and disappeared
in the seething flood. Where our peaceful camp had stood but a few
minutes before there was now a sea of agitated water. The explanation
of this phenomenon is simple: A heavy rain had fallen in the mountains
where the tributaries of the river rise, and the torrent of water
dashing down the precipitous slopes had rushed into the lowlands. After
this the water was so muddy that it was unfit for use without special
preparation. In order to secure a supply for drinking and cooking we
boiled a quantity of it; the sand was quickly precipitated to the
bottom as the temperature rose, after which the clear water could
be poured off the top. In some instances the amount of solid matter
carried by the water was fully 50 per cent of the total volume.
Animals were not abundant on the river-banks, although we saw a deer
or a small flock of curassows at infrequent intervals. If we went
into the forest a short distance, however, we were sure to find game
in abundance. On one occasion the Indians demonstrated their skill at
calling up monkeys. A large troop of cebus and squirrel-monkeys were
feeding in the tree-tops, but for some reason the men did not give
chase as they usually do; they concealed themselves in the thick lower
growth and whistled a few plaintive _kee-oows_. In a short time the
animals began to evince a great deal of interest or curiosity, and
many of them descended to the lower branches. Then the hunters shot a
number with their arrows before the band realized what had occurred and
took flight.
Large areas covered with an impenetrable cane-jungle are scattered all
along the borders of the Chimoré. The tall stalks rise to a height of
fifty feet or more, and are beautiful to look at, but impossible to
penetrate until a trail has been cleared with hatchet or machete. The
plant resembles the well-known sugar-cane of our Southern States, but
grows much taller, and the stems are thin and hard. A large, white,
feathery plume crowns each stalk. This plant is of inestimable value to
the natives. The long poles are used almost exclusively in constructing
their dwellings, and the leaves make an impervious thatch. Practically
every stalk is infested with thick white grubs which live in the pith.
These are extracted by the Yuracarés, who call them _chata_, and used
for bait when fishing. Many runways perforate the matted growth; these
have been made by capybaras, agoutis, and numerous other animals. Even
tapirs seem to appreciate the protection afforded by the thick cover
and resort to it in the daytime, while jaguars noiselessly steal along
the paths in the course of their nightly prowls. One night we had an
excellent illustration of how useful the cane-plant, or _chuchilla_,
as the Indians call it, can be in an emergency. We had landed on a
sand-bank rather early in the evening, spurred to this action by
rapidly approaching black clouds, flashes of lightning, and the
rumbling of distant thunder which bespoke the arrival of a tropical
rain-storm. At first it looked as if we should be compelled to endure
a thorough drenching, but Padre Fulgencio issued a few orders to the
canoemen, and they hurried away to neighboring cane-brakes, with
machete in hand; soon they returned, dragging an immense quantity of
the plant; four of the strongest poles were firmly planted in the sand
to form a square, about fifteen feet apart, and the tops bent over and
tied together with strips of their leaves. These served as the corner
posts of a shelter. Other stalks were laid across the top to form
rafters, and firmly tied. The men then piled many more on top, binding
each one to the rafter, until a complete hut had been built; although
the height of the roof was fully eight feet, the ragged edges came down
to the ground, entirely enclosing the sides and forming a snug retreat
against which the elements raged without avail. After the first deluge
had subsided other and smaller shelters were built. The Indians enjoyed
the experience thoroughly; they threw aside all clothing, built fires
over which fish and game were placed to roast, and squatted around the
embers in a circle, doubtless indulging in pleasant reminiscences of
the days before civilization with its restricting influences, and had
come into their care-free existence.
Early next morning we were awakened by the reverberating howls of
monkeys. The Indians rushed in a body from their shelters and,
snatching up bows and arrows, ran in pursuit. A troop of red howlers
had come to the _chuchilla_ near our shelters; we could see none
of the animals, but the tops of the canes waving as if agitated by
a violent gust of wind told us of their whereabouts. Soon we heard
shouts followed by the twang of bows and the snarl of arrows as they
ripped through the flesh of the luckless victims. This continued until
the creatures disappeared in the interior of the dense jungle, and
then the hunters returned, dragging their quarry after them. We were
eager to continue on our way, but in view of the efficient and willing
service rendered by the men the night before it was decided to wait a
few hours and permit them to have a feast. A huge fire was built, and
the monkeys, after having been skinned and washed, were set on spits
to roast. The Indians crowded around, sang and shouted, and tore off
and ate chunks of the half-roasted flesh. In a short time our orderly
Yuracarés had returned to the realms of savagery, and were indulging in
a performance such as I had repeatedly seen among the wild Nhambiquaras
of Matto Grosso.
Lower down we saw numerous islands, some of large size and of a
peculiar formation. The river, which had risen so rapidly a few days
before, had gone down to its normal level and left these obstructions
in the channel exposed high above the surface. A matted mass of logs
and branches of which a layer fifteen feet thick protruded above the
water, formed the base of the islands; on this soil had gathered to
a depth of five or six feet, and supported a luxuriant growth of
vegetation. These islands are composed of deposits of driftwood which
were left stranded on sand-banks during the season of high water,
and while the edges are torn and jagged the force of succeeding
floods seems to be of insufficient strength to wash them away. As we
paddled along quietly near the banks the priest or the Indians pointed
out many interesting and curious plants. One of these is the _palo
santo_, or holy tree; it grows to be a great height, but the trunk is
comparatively slender. The peculiar name is derived from the fact that
it is as carefully guarded as any sacred object should be, but in this
instance by myriads of fire-ants, which live in the hollow interior of
the trunk. If the tree is struck sharply with a stick the ants pour out
in endless files through minute openings. They are vicious insects,
and the bite smarts and burns many hours after it is inflicted. The
_tacuara_, a species of tall, feathery bamboo, is another interesting
plant of this region. When the stalk is cut down the leaves shrivel
and dry within a few minutes. Large numbers of cabbage-palms grew
throughout the forest. The beautiful, plume-shaped leaves droop in a
great umbrella-like mass from the top of a column sixty or seventy feet
high; thick clumps of straight, tough roots branch out eight or ten
feet above the ground and form a solid support to the stem. A delicious
salad is made from the tender leaves, folded up in the bud; or if
boiled the flavor is similar to that of asparagus. To secure the bud it
is, of course, necessary to cut down a tree which has taken the greater
part of a century to mature, but in a region where many millions are
growing one is not inclined to be sentimental, and will only bemoan
the fact that it requires an hour’s hard work to chop through the
steel-like trunk before the coveted morsel is brought down.
The country between the Guapay and Ichilo is probably as little
known as any part of South America. This strip of land, covering
approximately five thousand square miles, is heavily forested, and is
the home of a tribe of savages known as the Sirionós. Judging from the
accounts given to us by our canoemen and the priest, they must be a
terrible and indomitable race. The Yuracarés fear them greatly, and as
we neared the Ichilo they preferred to keep the canoes in the centre of
the river and seemed reluctant to land; if they shot at an animal and
the arrow missed its mark and dropped in the forest they did not go in
search of it; a half-day of careful work is needed to make an arrow,
and as a general rule Indians are very particular to hunt for any they
may lose; but in this instance they preferred the loss of the arrows to
risking their skins in the dense cover.
There were four Yuracarés at the mission, one, a girl of twelve years,
who bore unsightly scars--the result of having been ambushed by parties
of the Sirionós tribe; I was also told that occasionally some of them
are killed.
The Sirionós seem to have no permanent homes and cultivate the ground
to a very limited extent, if at all. They are a tribe of wanderers, and
roam the forest in small parties, killing game for food. In appearance
and stature they are not unlike the Guarayos, but in temperament they
are totally different and have successfully resisted every attempt made
to subdue them. Their weapons are bows and arrows, the former of great
height and so powerful that they cannot be drawn with the arms alone.
In order to shoot the Indian throws himself on his back, grasps the
bow with the feet and draws the cord with both hands; the arrows, of
which the priest had collected a number, are seven or eight feet long
and made of wild cane or _chuchilla_. Apparently they are unacquainted
with the use of poison.
Probably the Guarayos suffer more at the hands of the Sirionós than
the Yuracarés, because the former two tribes come in contact more
frequently. Padre Wolfgang, in charge of one of the missions of Santa
Cruz de la Sierra, was on one occasion attacked and several of his men
were captured. A few days later he found them nailed to trees with
numerous long thorns. On another occasion he surprised a party of
Sirionós and succeeded in capturing seven; these he took back to the
mission, but they proved to be intractable. He found it necessary to
tie them to posts in order to prevent them from escaping. They steadily
refused food and water, and after a few days four died of starvation
and sullenness. The priest took pity on the remaining three and
released them.
After five pleasant days crowded with interesting and unusual
experiences on the Chimoré we returned to the mission and spent a few
days there packing the valuable zoological collections. We then went
back to our base on the Chaparé; for this journey we decided to go
by way of the Coni, a small stream emptying into the Chaparé, a few
miles above Todos Santos. We followed a path through the forest for
a distance of three miles, arriving at a large clearing which was
planted in sugar-cane; but what surprised us greatly was the fact that
the owner was a Quechua, who had deserted his home in one of the high
valleys near Cochicancha, and had come to live in the hot tropics. He
had constructed a crude wooden mill for expressing the juice from the
cane-stalks, erected a still, and was making alcohol. We had gone to
the mission with the intention of remaining a week, and filled with
many misgivings as to the outcome of our visit; but the good missionary
had proved to be one of the most kind-hearted and generous of men
imaginable, and more than three weeks had flown before the many and
imperative duties ahead forced us to return reluctantly to the port.
Padre Fulgencio walked to the Coni with us, and supplied men and canoes
for the six hours’ journey to Todos Santos. His regret at our departure
was as genuine as our own, and I look forward with the utmost pleasure
to another and longer visit to the mission and the boundless country of
the upper Chimoré in the not far-distant future.