On our return, while pushing the canoe upstream between the numerous stumps along the shore, in the manner already described for surcadas, Gonzalez, although an excellent boatman, suddenly lost his balance and fell with a thud into the deep water. Fortunately, we succeeded in pulling him out, none the worse for his wetting, and in a half-hour reached La Sofía without further adventure.
Here we found Perkins somewhat better, so we fixed the pot in the fore part of the canoe in the manner I had planned and made arrangements to depart on the following day, for Gonzalez had decided to accompany us as far as Yocuropuí, the next Cioni village, to see the Indians there.
Perkins better, we accordingly bade goodbye to our kind friend Materón the next morning, Thursday, December 5th; and, lashing our canoe to Gonzalez’, in order to keep together and to facilitate conversation, we once more resumed our journey. Materón had thoughtfully filled the canoe with papayas, bananas, &c., so what with them, the conversation, and the shooting, we were kept pretty busy.
The river soon became much broader, owing to the numerous tributaries, and the current much gentler, while great sand and gravel playas began to appear with some frequency. Numerous beautiful birds, flying from stump to stump, lent an air of life to the otherwise silent river, while occasionally a group of monkeys could be seen making their way from tree to tree, almost hidden by the thick leaves and tangled creepers so characteristic of Amazonian vegetation. Soon the heat grew uncomfortable, so we all withdrew under the commodious pamacari, where it was quite agreeable.
At 11.30 we stopped for almuerzo on an immense playa, upon which were two or three dilapidated-looking ranchos, probably erected by the exiles about a month before. Having partaken of a fair lunch of fried yuca, sausage, rice, and coffee, we were about to get into the canoes when Perkins’ eye fell upon a huge ostrich-like bird several hundred metres away. As he was such a fine specimen, Perkins endeavoured to get within range, but in vain; for the beauty, apparently as fond of his fine feathers as we were, soon disappeared into the forest and we saw him no more. This fine bird was probably a nandu or ema,[76] sometimes called the ostrich of America.
Resuming the journey, at about two o’clock we passed a large playa on the left bank, known as the Playa de Oro[77] on account of the supposed richness of its placer deposits. We did not examine it, however, owing to lack of time. A little later Perkins had the good fortune to kill a large duck, and Gonzalez almost got another, but it dived and went up the river, and when next he appeared he had nearly reached the shore, so we did not pursue him farther.