File:Across the Andes (1912) (14778561311).jpg

Identifier: cu31924064295805 (find matches)
Title: Across the Andes
Year: 1912 (1910s)
Authors: Post, Charles Johnson, 1873-
Subjects:
Publisher: New York, Outing publishing company
Contributing Library: Cornell University Library
Digitizing Sponsor: MSN

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d themselves in mo-tionless, drying groups, incurious and fearless aswe paddled past their sand-bars and, like theopening door of a furnace, there came the fierceheat of the tropic day. The muddy river gaveno hint of its depth or channel, and sometimesthe canoe would run aground and the Tacanaswould tumble overboard, laughing and splash-ing, to ease her off and then line out, with wideintervals, as skirmishers, to locate a channel thatwould pass us through the maze of submergedsand-bars. Not a thought was given to the alli-gators that infested the river, and the Tacanawho located the channel would swim carelesslyabout with huge enjoyment. Again would comethe steady splashing of paddles and the doubleline of rhythmic, swaying Tacana backs; thenat noon the daily hunt and the drowsy restingin the forest shade while the Tacana girls busiedthemselves with the breakfast where a pig, acapibarra or a row of monkeys were slowly roast-ing on the hot coals. Rapidly the afternoon wears away until
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THROUGH RUBBER COUNTRY 329 cooler, more mellow glow announces the ap-proaching sunset and then the chatter among theTacanas as they discuss the signs for the nightscamp. The little tolditas, the mosquito nettings,would sway from their poles in the gentle breeze,a quick supper would evolve from the remainsof the noon breakfast and be followed by theissue of the cane-sugar alcohol. Sometimes af-ter dark the Tacanas would paint their faces instreaks with the berries foraged at noon, andgrimace and hop about the glowing embers ofthe fire with shrieks of joy. Any odd grimaceor ridiculous streaking caused a riotous outburst,for their minds were as simple as infants. Once—and it gave them delirious pleasure for awhole night—they set fire to an island of charo,the cane from which the walls of their shacksare made, and all through the darkness itcrackled and burst in little explosions, as thougha nervous picket-line were protecting our flank.Slowly the days passed, and it was with themost

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