The women are free to do as they please, which suits them best. They are volunteer workers to pick cotton, spin, and weave it by hand. The frame for the weaver is a simple wooden one, which stands upright in a corner of the house, where the women work at it when they have the cotton spun, by twisting it suspended from the hand to a ball, the thread being wound on a slight stick; both spinning and weaving appear to us very slow work, but time is never considered by the Indian; he works as though he lived for the present, and thought more of the past than of the future.
The prefect has a secretary and clerk; a captain of police superintends the whole department of the Beni, and reports any internal disturbances; he keeps watch upon all people to see there are no revolutionary schemes, and receives twenty-five cents from every person wishing to leave, for a written passport granting permission so to do. When a traveller wants a boat and crew, he applies to the captain of police, who sees that the proper price is paid to the men, and no more. He is a creole, like the clerk of the prefect. The only other creole officer in the town is a justice of the peace.
For the last ten years the Indians of the Beni have paid annual contribution. Before that time the government supplied them with clothing, fed and lodged them, and received into the public treasury the whole products of their labors. The Indians very properly became dissatisfied, and it was found advisable to change the order of things, and to tax them.
Cayuba was the wise man of the Mojos tribe. He was respected for his intelligence, while Fratos claimed rank over him on account of his wealth. This Cayuba thought unjust; while he performed his duty well, and his house was the gay one of the town, he was constantly reminded by the most important man about him that he should be made correjidor. He was a planter, and owned a large chacra on the opposite side of the lake. The prefect took me to Cayuba's and gave me a formal introduction to him. His first question was: "What is your name?" On being told, he sneezed, shook his head, and said, "Mucha questa."
When the arrieros reach the foot of the mountains, they point to the tops of the Andes, and describe the difficulties of gaining the summit with the cacao, by saying "mucha questa"—much up-hill. Cayuba used the same expression to explain to me in Spanish how difficult English sounded to his ear. He looked intently at me and said—"Another language? Where is your country?" I pointed to the north. "Ah," said he; "have any women there?" The Indians think strangers travel about alone because they have no women at home to take care of them.
Cayuba often came to see me. He spoke a little Spanish, and was so anxious to know all about my country, we became great friends. I asked him whether the people were happy. He said, "Yes; but we are all slaves to the white man; we used to have plenty of cattle and fine horses. The white man comes from Santa Cruz and drives them all away."
By the laws of the land, Indians are punished by whipping on the bare back with a raw-hide rope—twelve stripes for insubordination, drunkenness, or idleness. The custom among the authorities has been to punish whenever they deem it proper, with as many lashes as they please, though there is less punishment now than in former times. One prefect, who was exceedingly tyrannical in his behavior to these people, was recalled, as the Indians all signed a petition against him to the President. He was displaced and afterwards banished to Brazil. On the voyage down the Mamoré river, the crew filled the boat with water at midnight while the ex-prefect was sleeping. They swam to the bank, and he was drowned.
By Lieut. L. Gibbon U. S. N.