CHAPTER XXVI

THE LAKE REGION OF WESTERN ARGENTINA--THE HEART OF THE WINE COUNTRY

Inhabitants of the vine-growing districts of Argentina claim that their country produces more wine than California; and, judging by appearances as we entered the Province of San Juan, there seemed to be abundant evidence to support the belief that the yield of grapes is enormous. The soil is sandy and the seepage of snow-water from the mountains is ample to make up for the lack of rainfall.

Many of the vineyards are of great extent. Grapes of numerous varieties are grown, and for size and flavor they are unequalled by any I have ever seen anywhere. Wines of many kinds, and grades, are made, and they are of uniformly excellent quality. Even the champagnes are good. The price at which they sell is low in that part of the country--so low in fact that even the laboring class drink them with their meals. In Buenos Aires they cost as much as the imported article, owing to the fact that freight between San Juan or Mendoza and Buenos Aires equals or exceeds shipping charges from Spain, Portugal, and France.

The city of San Juan reminded us of Salta; perhaps it is not quite so large or up-to-date, but it is nevertheless not unattractive; we spent little time there as we had been invited to a _finca_, where there is a lake of considerable size, to shoot ducks.

One of my ambitions had always been to find a place where ducks and geese were really plentiful--in fact abundant enough to furnish an interesting pastime, observing them under conditions that were not too trying, and where they would also furnish good sport. We had heard of the wonderful shooting on Lake Titicaca, but upon our arrival the season was closed and there was little besides coots and grebes; however, at certain times of the year there is an abundance of water-fowl and sportsmen from La Paz get enviable shooting opportunities.

The marshes along the Cauca River, Colombia, had given better results. Teals, tree-ducks, ruddies, and an occasional pair of big muscovies could always be found; but the ducks were loath to take wing, and going after them in the dense grass and thorny shrubbery growing in the marshes was very trying work.

Then we had reached the rice-growing district around Los Sarmientos.

“Ducks?” they said. “Why, _hombre_, they are bringing them into Tucuman by the thousands. The government is paying a bounty of five cents a head on them as they are destroying all the rice. They are swooping down by the tens of thousands; all the lakes in the south have dried up, so they are coming here. When the flocks rise from the fields, the earth trembles.”

That was certainly good news; but when we arrived, the birds had departed for regions unknown.

Leaving San Juan at 6 P. M., we reached a station called Media Agua (half water) two hours later. Our new friend had sent a _peon_ to meet us, bringing a wagon; so as soon as we could extricate our luggage from the pile on the station platform, we loaded the vehicle and started on the long drive across the cold, barren country. It was very dark and there was not much of a road anyway, so the wagon jolted along over the rocks or dragged heavily through deep sand. The cold was intense; we wrapped up in heavy Indian blankets, which, however, did not give complete protection from the stinging blasts.

At midnight the driver refused to go any farther and drew up at a lonely hut, where we spent the rest of the night. Early next morning we were off again. We now passed through large irrigated fields where wheat was grown, and also a good deal of maize. Then the desert began again, and from appearances there was not a drop of water within many miles.

We questioned the driver about the lake, and whether there were any _patos_ (ducks); but he only shrugged his shoulders and said: “_Quien sabe?_”

Suddenly we saw the shimmer of placid water ahead, and soon drew up at a board shack some little distance from the lake. Our man had told us to take nothing but our guns and ammunition, as his caretaker, who lived in the hut we had just reached, would provide everything else. We took a tent and a few provisions anyway, just to be safe, and it was lucky that we did. Not only had nothing been provided, but the tenant had not even been advised of our coming. He had only one dirty little room, but this he very generously placed at our disposal; however, we preferred to camp outside, although it was bitter cold. His wife consented to do the cooking.

The tent was hastily put up; then we hurried to the lake, leaving the family busily engaged in slaughtering a goat for lunch.

All the surrounding country is a wind-swept desert, there being no trees and but a few thorny bushes. In spots the sand and alkali dust is several feet deep. It seemed impossible that there could be a lake in such a parched-looking locality; but there lay the glistening sheet of water, stretching away into the distance as far as the eye could see. Along the edges were vast, shallow marshes, covering hundreds of acres; in these, sedges grew abundantly, forming shelter and providing a limitless feeding-ground for water-fowl. Half a mile from the bank stood great clumps of _totoras_, or cattails, rearing their tough, slender stems to a height of seven or eight feet above the water. What was infinitely more interesting to us, the whole surface of the lake, from its marshy edge to the rows of _totoras_ fading away in the distance, was teeming with water-birds.

There were no boats to be had in the neighborhood, as the natives use reed rafts. They cut quantities of cattails, bind them into long, thick bundles and, lashing several of them together, form a craft that will support a man, although his feet are always under the icy water. Shooting from such a contrivance, unless it is larger than any I have seen, would be impossible. Therefore we started to walk along the muddy banks in the hope that something would fly over.

After having gone a short distance, a commotion among the sedges attracted our attention, and a moment later a large gray fox appeared and trotted away. A charge of No. 4 shot stopped him; he was in splendid fur and made a desirable addition to our lot of trophies. Later, we saw them frequently; they haunt the edges of the marsh and feed upon coots and wounded ducks. Carrion-hawks, also, were always about in considerable numbers and reaped a rich harvest.

Coots of several species were running around everywhere. They wandered far away from the water, apparently to pick up toads or lizards, and as we approached, scurried back to the marsh or hid in the dense, low bushes, where they remained motionless until the cause of their fright had passed. Ducks were all well out of range and refused to fly over. I hesitate to estimate their numbers, there were such countless thousands, but in many places the water was covered with them, and there were large white geese and black-necked swans. Black rails of good size darted about or waded boldly out in the open, jerking their tails and clucking.

It did not take us long to discover that we were too late in the day for ducks, so we started back to camp, cutting across the country. Several tinamous got up singly, with a loud whir of wings; they flew straight and fast, a great contrast to the slow, wavering flight of the forest-inhabiting species.

When we reached camp, some of the goat-meat had been roasted and we had a feast! The rest of the day was spent in straightening up camp.

Our eight by twelve foot “balloon silk” tent had been put up under a shed adjoining the house; this protected it from the wind on at least one side. To be of any use in the tropics, the tent must of course be provided with a ground-cloth and bobbinet curtains; it should also contain a window, screened with netting, in the roof. We did not need the curtains, so tied them back. A brazier was kindled, and after it was filled with glowing embers, it was taken into the tent; it warmed the tent thoroughly within a few moments and kept a fire all night. The window, which was always kept open, served its mission splendidly as a means of ventilation.

The owner of the hut had gone away to look for a boat, and that night returned with one of ample size; but next morning a furious wind was blowing, so hunting was out of the question. The air was so filled with dust that one could not see anything more than a few yards away, and huge waves rolled in from the lake and tore hungrily at the sandy banks. These storms are very common during the winter months and blow up several times a week.

The third day of our visit was beautiful. We pushed the boat out of the tangle of sedges and made straight for the cattails. The birds were stirring, and flock after flock passed overhead. When we paddled quietly into the midst of the green islets, we seemed to enter a new world, filled with surprises and wonderful beyond description. The tall, graceful stems of the totoras swayed gently with the swell made by the passing boat, and cast long shadows in the narrow lanes of glassy water they enclosed. Coots and grebes, like shadows, paddled silently away and lost themselves among the reeds; ruddy ducks popped up here, there, and everywhere, stared a moment, and then dived again with a splash; they seemed to spend a good deal of their time under water, and the fishermen frequently caught them in gill-nets set along the bottom of the lake. The male ruddies were in fine plumage, with deep chestnut backs, white throat-patches, and bright-blue bills; they seldom tried to fly, and then skimmed the water for a few yards only; the ones we shot were so fat that it is hard to understand how they could fly at all. Occasionally we saw a giant grebe. From a distance it resembled a loon; they are fast swimmers and expert divers. Our boatman always begged us to shoot these birds, as the natives are very fond of the flesh and, also, the skin of the breast with its beautiful white, silky feathers, brings a good price in the feather markets. Needless to say, none was shot for this purpose.

Among the reeds flitted a wonderful little bird, known as the military flycatcher, or “bird of seven colors.” It is little larger than a wren, yellow underneath and green above, with the crest and under tail-coverts bright red; there are yellow stripes on the sides of the head and the cheeks are blue; the wings and tail are black. The bird is a sprightly little fellow, flitting and jumping about among the reeds in pursuit of small insects, and uttering its cheerful “_cheeps_” at frequent intervals; it gives a touch of color and dainty life to the sombre green of the vegetation, and to the reflections in the murky water below.

Presently we left the region of the _totoras_ and emerged into the open lake. The surface was dotted with ducks, coots, and grebes--a squawking, diving, racing mass that defies description. We made right for the centre of action. The coots always waited until the boat was but a few yards away and then, after giving a few clucks, started to run and flop across the water, leaving a myriad of silvery, rippling paths in their wake, and making the marsh reverberate with the noise. Often this would frighten the ducks, and flocks would jump up all around in such vast numbers that we were lost in admiration watching the wonderful sight of the thousands of swishing, black forms hurtling into the wintry sky.

Our method of hunting was to paddle along slowly, squatting low in the boat until within range of a flock of ducks; then, by standing up suddenly, the flock would be frightened into taking wing, and the individuals we had selected could be picked off. We wanted birds in good plumage only, and this manner of hunting gave us the opportunity of selecting each individual separately. There were shovellers and cinnamon teal without number; the handsome males, in brightest plumage, were dashing around the inconspicuously colored females, swimming low and with bills flat on the water; usually there were not more than a dozen or fifteen in a party. Then there were scaups, tree-ducks, pintails, blackheads, and rosy-bills. The latter were wary; they always passed high above, in large flocks, and the rushing sound made by their wings could be heard a long distance away.

Dabbling in the mud-banks along the edge of the marsh were flocks of from four to thirty large white geese (_Casa-roba_). Black-necked swans, singly or in small groups, sailed about majestically. Of the two birds the geese were the more graceful, and by far the more beautiful. The swans were not very wild, but when the boat approached they began to utter shrill “_kee-wee’s_”; finally they would launch into the air with a great deal of flapping, beating the water with powerful strokes of the wings, and keeping up their cry all the while. When we neared a flock of geese, they began to patrol the water ahead, swimming back and forth, and eying us with suspicion; they swam well out of the water, with a graceful carriage of the head and neck, and uttered constant loud, penetrating cries that sounded like “_honk-honk-queenk_.” What is more thrilling than the clear, piercing challenge of this spirit of the wild? Wafted across the watery waste on the wings of a crisp autumn wind, it comes as a message from the regions of snow and ice--a foreboding of the bleak, dark days to follow. I never tired of hearing it, and lost more than one shot at a flock coming over from another direction because I was so interested in listening to the fascinating notes of other birds ahead of us. When they finally decided to take wing, they rose from the water quickly and gracefully, and flew at great speed, stringing out in various formations. They always went far away before again dropping down into the water.

We continued paddling through the centre of the open water to a large mud-flat in search of flamingoes. The natives called them _choflos_, and said that a great many came to this spot each day to feed on the small snails and other mollusks which abound in the shallow places. When still a good distance away we could make out what seemed to be a long row of old piles driven into the centre of the mud-flat. The water had become so shallow that the boat could not proceed, so there was nothing to do but wade, not an altogether pleasant experience, as it was bitter cold and sheets of thin ice floated about everywhere. When we moved, the flamingoes stood stock-still and looked at us; when we stood motionless they lowered their heads, dabbled in the mud, and walked about. From a distance they seemed to be of enormous size, and until we were near by they appeared coal-black. Finally they became restive, ran back and forth a few steps and then, beating the air with laborious strokes of the wings, flew away. Frequently, on other occasions, they circled around a few times before departing from the locality.

We returned to camp by way of the sedge marshes, although, on account of the bushes and shallow water, poling the boat through the tangle was hard work. In the tops of many of the bushes were immense nests, built of sticks and reed-stems; they apparently belonged to the giant coots, as many of these birds still used them for resting-places; also, nearly all of the platforms were piled with dead frogs which the coots had disembowelled. Our man said that during the months of December and January all the people living near the lagoons camp on the edge of the water and collect eggs; they gather immense numbers and take them to the markets of the neighboring towns to sell.

There were ducks everywhere, feeding or playing among the sedges, and flocks coming from the surrounding sloughs whistled past constantly and plumped down with a splash. Black-headed gulls flew back and forth overhead, and cormorants stood on snags, drying their outstretched wings. To shoot birds under such circumstances would be mere slaughter, and the number one could kill is limited only by the amount of ammunition at hand. The natives kill four or five hundred ducks each day during this season, and have done so for years, but the number of birds does not seem to diminish.

There were also numbers of noisy stilt-sandpipers, storks, and screamers, and occasionally we ran across a pectoral sandpiper which, as at Tafí, was so fat that it did not attempt to fly and could be caught by throwing a hat over it. Lapwings, too, passed over in small bunches, screaming and quarrelling as they went.

Nearly all the ducks were feeding on the small seeds of the water-plants, and were rolling in fat; but on several occasions we ran into small flocks of shovellers and teals which were near the bank and refused to fly; an examination of several of them showed that they were very light and probably diseased.

As we neared the landing, dusk was just enveloping the landscape. Red-breasted meadow-larks sang in the desert, yellow-shouldered blackbirds babbled in the thick reeds, and black ibises in flocks of many thousands were returning from their feeding-grounds miles away, to spend the night in the marshes.

We desired our birds principally for scientific purposes; that is, to prepare the skins for museum specimens, and had shot only a limited number of the best-plumaged individuals of each species; but even then our bag amounted to over half a hundred ducks, a number of geese and swans, and a fairly good collection of coots, grebes, herons, and other birds typical of the vast Argentine lake region.

The preparation of all this material presented a stupendous task. First they were cleaned thoroughly of all spots, then hung up in a safe place, where they remained in good condition on account of the cold. The days that followed were so stormy that outdoor work was impossible, so we were glad to remain in the tent disposing of the work in hand.

When the weather cleared we took other boat-trips through the marshes and out into the lake, but our bag was always limited to things we did not possess or needed for food. The geese were leaving in small flocks to breed in the high Andes, the natives said. Swans also started to drift southward; but still the number of remaining water-fowl, mostly ducks and coots that did not migrate, was incalculable. The water was constantly ruffled by the myriad of moving forms and, at times, the roar of rapidly beating wings reminded us of distant thunder.

The few people living in widely separated hovels around the borders of the lake lead miserable lives. They cultivate small areas in grain, but live mostly on fish, water-birds, and goat’s milk. The winter season is most trying. Snow falls infrequently and in small quantities, but the cold is intense. The dust-storms, however, are the real tribulations which render life well-nigh unbearable. They frequently last many days at a time; the fine sand sifts through and into everything and is almost suffocating. One breathes it, eats it, wakes up in the morning covered with a layer, and lives in it continuously as in a thick, brown haze that is most exasperating and invites almost constant profanity, at least in thought. We were glad we visited Media Agua; but we were glad indeed when we found ourselves back in San Juan.

It requires but four hours to reach Mendoza from San Juan by train. This attractive city is really in the heart of the wine country, but the vineyards were almost depleted from the inroads of an insect called the _bicho de cesto_. The vegetation all about was covered with small, ragged cocoons from which the hungry hordes of destructive creatures would emerge in the spring. In places wide areas of weeds had been burned over to destroy the pest while still in the incipient stage; but enough always escaped to undo the work of the few careful growers who attempted to stamp out their enemy of the grape-vines. The slaughter of birds on a vast scale may account for the increase of the _bicho de cesto_. We saw vendors on the streets carrying baskets full of small birds of several species--mostly sparrows--which they sold by the dozen. The number killed weekly must run into the thousands. As a natural result of this wholesale killing, birds are not plentiful in the environs of Mendoza.

From the outskirts of the city one has a superb view of the Andean Range. The lofty mountains extend in an unbroken, snow-capped line as far as the eye can see. Aconcagua, the peer of the Argentine Andes, may be seen from a point several miles south of Mendoza, lording over his lesser satellites in a majestic, awe-inspiring way. The shifting mists, cloud-banks, and intermittent sunlight playing on the white peaks present an ever-varying series of pictures that are unexcelled for beauty and grandeur.

At Mendoza we met an Italian who claimed to be the champion condor-hunter of all South America. During his ten years of collecting he had killed more than sixteen thousand of the magnificent birds. His record for one day was one hundred and fourteen. Naturally, they had become greatly reduced in numbers, for the condor lays but a single egg and it takes many months to rear the young. His method was to drive a burro to some lonely gorge among the bleak mountain-tops favored by the birds, and then to kill the animal. He was very particular in stating that the burro had to be fat--a poor one would not do for bait. He then spread nets about the carcass, and when the condors gathered about to feast he pulled a rope and ensnared them; on one occasion he trapped sixty-seven at one throw of the net. The prisoners were despatched with a club and the long wing-feathers extracted to be exported to France to decorate women’s hats. Formerly he had received about twenty _pesos_ per bird. With his accumulated wealth he built a powder-mill; this promptly blew up, so he was again practically penniless. Of course there were still condors in the mountains--in fact, he knew of a ledge where upward of eight hundred congregated to spend the nights, but the price of feathers had gone down fifty per cent on account of the war. He ended his speech in a very dramatic manner: “What,” he said, “me go out and slaughter such a wonderful, magnificent, and rare bird as the condor _for ten pesos each_? No, señor! Not me.”

About the only animal that was abundant near Mendoza was the jack-rabbit, introduced into the Argentine some forty years ago. It has increased to such an extent as to be harmful, and has spread over the entire southern part of the plains country. Many are killed and sold in the markets under the name _liebre_.

We met Doctor Chapman at Mendoza. He had come from Chile over the Trans-Andean Railroad. A wire had been sent us to join him at Santiago, but it arrived three weeks too late to be of any service. After a few days spent in taking photographs of the country and collecting accessories for a habitat group of the rhea, we started eastward to Buenos Aires.

We left Mendoza at one o’clock P. M., September 3. At first there was a seemingly endless succession of vineyards; then a vast expanse of arid country more barren even than the desert of Santiago del Estero. At midnight we left the parched plains and entered the fertile wheat and grazing lands which constitute one of Argentina’s chief sources of wealth and justly entitle that country to rank among the producing and great nations of the New World. Commodious ranch-houses standing in fields where thousands of head of live stock grazed were passed in steady succession. In some of the pastures hundreds of half-tamed rheas fed unconcernedly among the horses and cattle. Frequently we saw flocks of snowy gulls following a plough or resting in a bunch on the ground; lapwings circled about with angry screams, and ducks swam unconcernedly in the little sloughs beside the railroad. There were also rows of solemn, sedate storks, gravely contemplating the train as it passed, and flamingoes dabbling for mollusks in shallow pools.

After a continuous ride of twenty-five hours we reached Buenos Aires, and two weeks later the _Amazon_ of the Royal Mail Line was speeding us homeward.

I am writing these last few pages in an aviation concentration-camp awaiting orders to go to new lands, and new and possibly far more exciting experiences; but almost daily my thoughts go back to the great wonderland that lies south of us, and which I have learned to love. Speed the day when I may again eagerly scan the horizon for a first, faint tinge of its palm-fringed shore-line!

INDEX

agriculture of Argentina, 390, 412 of Bolivia, 287, 321, 326, 337 of Colombia, 13, 42, 76–7, 108, 112 of Peru, 270

Andes. _See_ mountains

Angostura, 142

animals of Argentina, 391, 401, 404 _ff._ of Bolivia, 285, 289, 293, 296, 299, 308, 377 of Brazil, 224, 238, 246, 249 of Colombia, 6, 13, 36, 38, 44, 51–2, 56, 88–9, 101–3, 111, 115, 118, 127 of Paraguay, 202, 206, 209–13, 215 of Venezuela, 151, 167, 175–6

ant-eater, 118, 215

Antioquia, 113, 121

ants, 99, 118, 133, 235, 258, 261, 317, 381

Arauca, 148

Arequipa, 268

armadillo, 211

Asuncion, 199

Atures Cataract, 152, 154

Aymará Indians, 273

bat, 101, 209, 289, 299

_beena_, 186

beverages: _chicha_, 286; _somo_, 337; _yerba maté_, 202, 394

birds of Argentina, 365, 368 _ff._, 373, 375 _ff._, 379 _f._, 384, 387, 391, 397, 407, 417 _ff._ of Bolivia, 282, 284, 288, 291, 293, 297–8, 309, 314, 326–7, 330, 338, 344 _ff._, 353, 359 of Brazil, 247, 250, 256, 259, 261 of Colombia, 6, 13, 20, 31 _f._, 36, 42, 48, 50, 57, 59, 71, 77, 81, 88, 97 _f._, 103, 108 _f._, 111, 113, 117, 125, 128 _f._, 132, 134 _ff._ of Paraguay, 199, 201, 207, 213, 217, 221 of Venezuela, 157, 161, 170, 174, 183, 189, 191

boa-constrictor, 403

Buenaventura, 3, 110

Buenos Aires, 198

Buriticá, 122

bushmaster, 72, 133, 308

Cabulla, 76

cacao, 42

cactus, 329

Caicara, 147

Calama, 261 _ff._

Caldas, 6

Cali, 10 _ff._

Callao, 266

Caquetá, 92 _ff._

Carretia Falls, 158

Cartago, 47

cassava, 159

Catañapo River, 153

catfish, 117, 151

Cauca, 12, 40 _ff._, 116

Caura, 146 _f._

Cerro do Norte, 236

Cerro Munchique, 29

Cerro Torra, 70

Chaco, 378 _f._; Gran Chaco, 203

_chicha_, 286

Chilón, 329

Chimoré River, 311 _ff._

Chocó, 64

Cisneros, 5, 110

Ciudad Bolivar, 142

climate of Argentina, 381, 399, 421 of Bolivia, 288, 324 of Colombia, 3, 8, 21, 54, 61–3, 64, 80, 83, 94 of Venezuela, 176, 185, 190

coca, 287

Cochabamba, 279

cock-of-the-rock, 89 _ff._

Comarapa, 330 _f._

Commemoração River, 249

Cordillera Occidental, 8

Corumbá, 208

crocodile, 215

Cuchicancha, 281 _ff._

Cuña Indians, 131

Cunucunuma River, 171

customs. _See_ Indians

Dagua River, 5

“death-doctor,” 274

dress, native, 25

El Carmen, 8

Embarcacion, 378

Essiquibo River, 181

fer-de-lance, 236, 309

fish of Bolivia, 294 of Brazil, 262 of Colombia, 117 of Paraguay, 205 of Venezuela, 151, 164, 171 catfish, 117, 151 method of fishing, 117, 154, 164 _piranha_, 164 _pirarucú_, 262 _pacu_, 117

food, native, 76

fruit-culture, 390

funeral customs, 68

Georgetown, 180

gold, 187, 190

government abolition of slavery, 295 dishonesty of, 163

Gran Chaco, 203

Guajibo Indians, 150; Rapids, 155

Guaviare River, 162

Guiana, 180–193

Gy-Paraná. _See_ Paraná

Hávita, 67

Huitoto Indians, 101

Iguana. _See_ reptiles

Inca civilization, 355 _ff._

Indians, customs: (_beena_), 186; (dances), 229, 257; (“death-doctor”), 274; (dress), 25; (festival of San Juan), 100; (friendly offerings), 252; (funeral), 68; (marriage), 93; (religion), 28, 322 tribes: Aymará, 273; Cuña, 131; Guajibo, 150; Huitoto, 101; Maquiritare, 172–3; Mundrucu, 262; Nhambiquara, 232 _ff._; Parecís, 228; Parintintin, 262; Patamona, 185 _ff._; Piaroa, 159; Quechua, 277, 281, 321, 347, 356 _ff._; Sirionó, 318; Yuracaré, 295 (mission of), 300 _ff._

industries, 79, 147, 156, 169, 204

insects of Argentina, 385, 421 of Bolivia, 291, 317 of Brazil, 235, 258, 261 of Colombia, 78, 80, 99, 118, 133 of Paraguay, 206, 219 of Venezuela, 192

ivory-nut, 108

jaguar, 102, 151, 167–8

jarepas, 76

Juntas de Tamaná, 68

Juruena, 231–4

Kaieteur Falls, 187

Laguneta, 49 _ff._

language of Bolivia, 340 of Paraguay, 202

Lao River, 168

La Paz, 270–3

Lima, 266

Maipures, 154, 156

maize, 112

Malina, 107 f.

Maquiritare Indians, 172

marriage customs, 93

_maté_. _See_ _yerba maté_

Matto Grosso, 223 _ff._

Medellin, 110

Mendoza, 421

Meta, 150

Minnehaha Creek, 187, 190

Mizque, 326 _f._

Mollendo, 267

money, 7, 73

monkey, 175, 210, 246, 249, 293, 296, 314; howling, 44; bridges of, 115

Monte Christo, 255

mosquito, 206, 192

mountains: Cerro Munchique, 29; Cerro Torra, 70; Cordillera Occidental, 9; Huana Potosi, 271; Illimani, 271; Mount Saint Ignacio, 19; Murarata, 271; Nevada del Tolima, 54; Paramillo, 120; Purace, 19, 22; Sotará, 23

Mundrucu Indians, 262

native. _See_ Indian

negroes, 187

Nevada del Tolima, 54

Nhambiquara Indians, 232 _ff._

Novitá, 64, 71

Orinoco River, 141–179

_pacu_, 117

Panama hats, manufacture of, 79

Papagayo Falls, 228

Papayán, 23 _ff._

Paramillo, 120

_páramo_, 58

Paraná River, 240

Parecís Indians, 228

Parintintin Indians, 262

Patamona Indians, 185 _ff._

Perico, 372 _f._

Perrico, 152

Peru, 265 _ff._

Piaroa Indians, 159

Pilcomayo River, 203, 350 _ff._

_piranha_, 164, 205, 262

_pirarucú_, 262

plants of Bolivia, 294, 297, 315, 317, 324, 329, 338 of Brazil, 243, 249 of Colombia, 8, 30, 47, 57–9, 78, 81, 101, 108, 111, 125 of Venezuela, 157, 170, 180, 182

Porto Gallileo, 204

Purace, 19, 22

Quechua Indians, 277, 281, 321, 347, 356 _ff._

raccoon, 285

rapids: Atures, 152, 154; Guajibo, 155; Maipures, 154; San Borja, 152; São Feliz, 256

rat, 224; cone-rat, 308; coypu-rat, 390–1

reproduction, rate of, in tropics, 245–6

reptiles, size of, 195–7 of Argentina, 403 of Bolivia, 307–8 of Brazil, 236, 262 of Colombia, 36, 72, 88, 133 of Paraguay, 215 of Venezuela, 160

rice, 390, 393

Rio de Janeiro, 194 _ff._

Rio Grande, 342 _f._

rivers: Arauca, 148; Catañapo, 153; Cauca, 12, 40 _f._, 116; Chimoré, 311 _f._; Commemoração, 249; Cunucunuma, 171; Dagua, 5; Essiquibo, 181; Guaviare, 162; Hávita, 67; Lao, 168; Meta, 150; River of Doubt, 198; Orinoco, 141 _ff._; Paraná, 240; Pilcomayo, 203; Sacre, 228; San Antonio, 291; San Juan, 74 _f._; Tamaná, 70; Vichada, 159

rubber, 155, 169, 182, 254

Sacre River, 228

Saint Ignacio, 19

Salavery, 266

Salencio, 65

Salta, 367

Salvajito, 154

San Agustin, 85

San Antonio River, 291

San Borja Rapids, 152

San Cocho, 76

San Fernando de Atabapo, 157, 162

San Jorge Rapids, 149

San Juan, 74 _f._; feast of, 100

São Feliz Rapids, 256

Sirionó Indians, 318

sloth, 88

Sotará, 23

Sucre, 346 _ff._

sugar, 13

Tamaná, 70

tannin, 204

Tapirapoan, 223

Tarabuco, 346

Tiahuanaco, 270

Titicaca Lake, 269

Todos Santos, 295

tonca-bean, 147

torture. _See_ _beena_

Totora, 328

Treasure Rock, 149

tribes. _See_ Indians

Trinidad, 200

Tucuman, 382 _f._

Tumatumari, 182

turtle, 151, 166

Urucúm, 209

Vagre, 152

Valdivia, 114

Valle de las Papas, 80

Vermejo, 337 _ff._

Vichada River, 159

vineyards, 412

vizcacha, 401; hunting of, 405 _ff._

Volcan, 373 _f._

wasps, 219

Yarumal, 113

_yerba maté_, 202, 394

Yungas, 287–291

Yuracaré Indians, 295; mission to, 300 _ff._

Zamuro, 153

Transcriber’s Notes

Punctuation, hyphenation, and spelling were made consistent when a predominant preference was found in the original book; otherwise they were not changed.

Simple typographical errors were corrected; unbalanced quotation marks were remedied when the change was obvious, and otherwise left unbalanced.

Illustrations in this eBook have been positioned between paragraphs and outside quotations. In versions of this eBook that support hyperlinks, the page references in the List of Illustrations lead to the corresponding illustrations.

The illustration on the Copyright page is the publisher’s logo.

The original text omitted accent marks from many Spanish words.

The index was not checked for proper alphabetization or correct page references.

Page 138: “Señor Cspinas” was printed that way.

Page 316: “influences, and had” was printed that way.

End of Project Gutenberg's In the Wilds of South America, by Leo E. Miller