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 comprises the northeastern portion. This and the department of Santa Cruz are the two largest and most easterly parts of the country. They stretch from the Andes to the Brazilian territory.
The great Beni river, which rises among the mountains of La Paz; the Mamoré, from the department of Cochabamba; and the Itenez, whose headwaters commence in the mountains of Matto Grosso, in Brazil, all flow through the department of the Beni; yet it is the wild country of Bolivia, and probably the most wealthy of the States of this confederacy.
That part of the Beni which lies on the eastern border of Yungas is called the province of Apolobamba. The chocolate, coca, and cinchona bark from Apolobamba are superior.
The southeast trade-winds from the South Atlantic ocean meet, and are checked by the great Sorata mountains. The town of Apolobamba, on the river Tuiché, is situated half-way between the gold mines of Tipuani and Carabaya. There is no such cinchona as that known as the "calisaya" of Apolobamba. At the feet of these trees are found the richest gold mines of Bolivia; and on the other side of the mountain range are said to be the richest gold mines in South America.
The southeast trade-winds are uninterrupted, after they rise from the ocean and pass over the beautiful "Organ" mountains in sight of Rio Janeiro, until they strike the slope on which the town of Apolobamba is situated.
The same wind that propels the sailor from the equator towards Cape Horn, on the South Atlantic ocean, on his way for the Peruvian bark, carries the moisture from the same ocean to give life to the trees from which the sailor receives his cargo. No man is supposed by seamen to have a right to the privileges of grumbling at the world or the winds until he has doubled Cape Horn.
Having rested our mules, we pushed on for eight leagues over a level road to the port of Vinchuta, which is composed of six sheds, or Yuracares houses, one of them two stories. As this was the governor's, we dismounted and walked up stairs. On gaining the upper floor, a young creole stepped forward and politely invited us to a seat, from which we could overlook the town. We were told that the governor and the inhabitants had deserted the place—they took fright at the small pox; and, the young man, pointing to a little Indian boy with a most ghastly stare, who was wrapped up in a poncho laying near me, said, "my servant, sir, is suffering very much with that disease, and down the country the Indians are being swept off at a terrible rate." This was not the most agreeable news, particularly as we were obliged to remain here until the governor came to his post to discharge a large canoe which was ready to leave for Trinidad, the capital of the department, and in which consisted our only way of proceeding.
