CXXIV. THE ARAUCANIANS…

CXXIV. THE ARAUCANIANS

DRESS--ETIQUETTE--GOVERNMENT.

DIVISION OF THE NATION INTO TRIBES -- THE MAPUCHÉS -- PECULIAR STRUCTURE OF THE HEAD -- THE CHERIPA, PONCHO, AND BOOTS -- MODE OF SHAVING -- DRESSING THE HAIR -- THE “PULLING HAIR” FIGHT -- DRESS OF THE WOMEN -- THE ENORMOUS BREASTPIN -- SINGULAR USE OF THIMBLES -- ELABORATE HEADDRESS -- PAINT -- EXHIBITION OF FEMALE VANITY -- DRESS OF THE CHILDREN -- ARCHITECTURE OF THE ARAUCANIANS -- THE CHIEF’S HOUSE AND ITS FURNITURE -- LONG HOUSE OF THE MAPUCHÉS -- NUMBER OF FIRES -- CODE OF ETIQUETTE -- THE SPEECH OF CEREMONY -- VALUE OF ORATORY -- DEMAND OF TRIBUTE -- MODE OF GOVERNMENT -- THE GRAND TOQUI -- THE COUNCILS OF PEACE AND WAR.

Passing northward from Patagonia, and taking a westerly direction, we come to the ARAUCANIAN nation. This title was given to them by the Spaniards, just as was the name of Patagonians to their southern neighbors, and, although it is an incorrect one, it has been accepted for so many years that it cannot be conveniently exchanged for the more correct designation.

The aborigines of Chili and a part of the territory now occupied by the Argentine Republic were formerly one great people, extending over a very considerable portion of the land, and necessarily modified in manners and customs by the influence of climate and geographical position. Their general title was Alapu-ché, or People of the Land, but they were separated into three great divisions, namely, Pehuen-ché, or People of the East; Mara-ché, or People of the West; and Huili-ché, or Far-off People, being those nearest to the Patagonians. Passing over the wars with the Spaniards, as foreign to the object of this work, we will describe the Mapuchés, or People of the Country, as they call themselves.

* * * * *

These people are rather below the middle height, strong, thick-set, broad-chested, and much inferior in point of form to the North American tribes. The head is narrow, and low in front, broad and high behind, and the back of the head falls in almost a direct line with the nape of the neck, a peculiarity by which an Araucanian may almost invariably be distinguished. The foot is as remarkable as the head. It is very short and broad, and rises straight from the toes to the ankle with scarcely any curve, so as to produce a very high but very clumsy looking instep.

The ordinary dress of the Mapuché men is mostly composed of two garments, namely, the “cheripa” (pronounced chĕreepah) and the poncho. The cheripa is a sort of compromise between a kilt and trousers. It is a piece of stuff, mostly cotton, which is fastened to the back of a girdle, passed between the legs, drawn up in front there, and tucked then into the girdle. The poncho is nothing but a large circular piece of stuff, with a hole in the centre, through which the head passes. It is exactly similar in principle to the cloak of Polynesia, and is at once a primitive, efficient, and graceful robe, assuming with every change of attitude folds which delight the eye of an artist.

Beside the poncho and cheripa, the Mapuché generally wears a pair of boots, similar to those of the Patagonians, and made of similar materials, the skin from the hind legs of a horse being drawn over the foot while still fresh, so that it moulds itself to the leg of the wearer. As with the Patagonians, it is open in front, so as to allow the two first toes to pass through and grasp the small triangular stirrup. The elaborate horse-accoutrements in which the Mapuchés delight will be described when we come to the manners and customs of the people. Men of rank wear woollen bracelets and anklets as marks of their superior position.

Like most of the Araucanian tribes, the Mapuchés have but little beard, and what they have they eradicate after the usual fashion of savages, plucking out the individual hairs instead of shaving. Mr. R. E. Smith had the opportunity of seeing the operation performed:--“At one house where we stopped I saw an Indian, who at first sight seemed to be a white man, from the fact that his beard was grown as though unshaven for a week. He looked red and blotched, and was continually raising his hand to some part of his face, wearing all the while an expression of patient endurance. A close scrutiny showed that he was engaged in shaving.

“These Indians pull out or nip off the beard with small steel tweezers. This instrument was originally, as the Mapuché name signifies, a clam shell, but, by intercourse with the whites, they have been able to procure a more elegant article. Every dandy carries his tweezers hanging from his neck, and at leisure moments amuses himself by smoothing his face to the taste of his painted mistress. The arguments they use in defence of their treatment of the beard are precisely those used by shavelings the world over.”

They do not content themselves with merely removing the hair from the chin, cheeks, and upper lip, but pull out the eyelashes and eyebrows, substituting instead of the latter a slender curved line of black paint. They say that the presence of the eyelashes hinders them in the pursuit of bee hunting, a sport of which they are very fond, and on which they pride themselves greatly. Some of the younger warriors have allowed a very slight fringe of hair to remain on the upper lip, but the older chiefs think that it is an innovation on the ancient customs, and discountenance it as far as they can.

The hair of the head is cut short at the top, but is allowed to grow long at the sides, in order that it may be easily grasped, just as the North American tribes leave one long lock on the crown of the head so as to assist the enemy who slays them in getting off the scalp.

When two lads quarrel, they settle the dispute with a fight, which is conducted, not by blows with the fist or with a weapon, but by pulling the hair. “Let us pull hair, if you are not afraid,” cries one of the disputants to the other. The challenge is never refused. Off goes the poncho, if they happen to be wearing it, the cheripa is tucked tightly into the belt, the combatants allow each other to take a fair grasp of the long locks, and the struggle begins. Each tries to twist the head of his opponent so as to bring him to the ground, and when he has once fallen, they loosen their grasp, rub the backs of their heads, take a fresh grasp, and repeat the struggle until one of them yields. The combat over, all animosity vanishes, and they are good friends again.

The dress of the women is, like that of the men, composed of two garments, though they are differently put on. One is an enlarged cheripa, and made of the same material. It is first wrapped round the body close under the arms, and then pinned together over each shoulder, so that the arms are left bare. It is confined at the waist by a very broad belt, and falls nearly to the ankle. This alone is a very sufficient dress, but over it is thrown a second piece of stuff which acts as a shawl or mantle, being fastened in front with a pin having a most enormously flat head, about the size of a cheese plate. Sometimes the head is globular, but the flat form is the favorite, and it is adorned with engraved figures. The cloth is mostly of native manufacture, and is either black or a very dark indigo blue.

Like that of the men, the hair of the women is divided into two long tails, one of which hangs over each shoulder. The tails are wound round with spiral strings of blue beads, and their ends are connected by a string of twelve or fourteen brass thimbles, which hang side by side, like a peal of bells. Besides these ornaments, the women wear a sort of cap, made entirely of beads, and falling over the back of the head as far as the shoulders. Its lower edge is decorated with a row of brass thimbles, like that which connects the two queues of the hair. This elaborate headdress is only worn on great occasions, while ordinarily the queues are wound round the head, the two ends projecting in front like horns, a fillet, usually studded with beads, being employed to keep the hair in its place. These peculiarities of dress are shown in the illustration of a Mapuché family on page 1201.

Ornaments are worn according to the wealth of the owners. Strings of beads, silver dollars, and brass thimbles are hung in profusion round the neck, which is further decorated with a collar made of leather and inlaid with silver. Wide bracelets and anklets are also worn, similar to those of the men, but made of variously colored beads instead of wool.

Paint is worn by both sexes, but chiefly by the women, and is anything but ornamental. It is invariably of two colors, red and black, which are mixed with grease, so that they can be applied and removed at pleasure. The usual plan is to have a broad red belt from ear to ear, taking in the cheeks, eyelids, and nose, the lower edge of the belt being sometimes edged and scalloped with black. The eyelids and lashes are also edged with black, and a thin line of the same hue takes the place of the eyebrows, which are all removed except a very fine row of hairs in the centre. Some of the women further decorate their faces by spots of black paint. The women are exceedingly proud of these ornaments; and an amusing instance of their vanity is related by Mr. Smith:--“Our conversation turned upon female dress; and, without intending any disparagement to our fair entertainers, we compared them to the women whom we had seen at the house of Chancay. The women, who were at work near by, did not understand half-a-dozen words of Spanish; but, with that intuitive perception which belongs to the sex, they were not long in discovering that our conversation related to themselves and their dresses.

“Immediately they held a council of war; and, entering the house, they presently returned, each with a bag of trinkets. There were coverings for the head and breast, composed of strings of beads of all colors and designs, with brass thimbles and silver coins. There were rings and pendants for ears and nose; bracelets and anklets, collars and breastpins of colossal proportions. These were held up for our admiration; and that we might more fully realize their wealth, the ladies proceeded to deck themselves with all their finery. They were at the same time jabbering at the top of their lungs, praising their own superiority to all other women, and appealing to us for a confirmation of their own good opinions.

“Finally, the belle of the lot, having ornamented her head, breast, and arms to their fullest capacity, stepped in advance of the others, and, raising her dress as high as the knee, displayed to our astonished gaze a remarkably well-rounded piece of flesh and blood. Patting the calf with honest pride, and turning it about for our inspection, she hung it round with beads, adjusted the many-colored anklets, and, snapping her fingers contemptuously, poured out a perfect torrent of Mapuché.

“Unfortunately, there was no one near to interpret this language; but from her action, and the frequent repetition of the name ‘Chancay,’ we gathered her meaning to be pretty much that, in whatever else the wives of Chancay might excel, she would defy them or any one else to produce a finer leg than the one in question.”

The dress of the children is simple enough. As long as they are infants, and not able to walk, they are tightly rolled up in bandages, so as to be unable to move. In this helpless condition they are put into bamboo cradles, and hung up on pegs driven into the walls of the house, or laid in baskets suspended from the roof, so that they can be swung about by a cord tied to the cradle. The infants are perfect models of behavior, never crying, and allowing themselves to be hung on pegs without betraying any signs of life, except the movement of the eyes. As soon as they can walk, they are allowed to run about without the incumbrance of any clothing, which is not worn until they become boys and girls of seven or eight years old.

The architecture of the Araucanians is very simple, but differs slightly according to the district, and the position of the owner of the house. The ordinary house of a common man is a mere hut, built of wicker-work, about twelve feet by ten, carelessly made, and ill calculated to withstand the elements. On a wet day the rain pours into the hut on all sides, a circumstance which has its advantages to counterbalance its discomforts. On rainy days all cooking has to be done within the house, which would be absolutely unbearable if the apertures which let the rain in did not let the smoke out. At night, moreover, these huts are overcrowded with sleepers.

In one of these huts there were three rude bedsteads, for the accommodation of two married couples and a pair of grown-up girls, while on the ground lay sixteen or seventeen young men and children, packed together like herrings in a barrel. Moreover, a whole troop of dogs came sneaking into the house as soon as the inmates closed their eyes; so that within this limited space some thirty living beings were contained during the night. It is evident that, if the hut had been weather-proof, the whole party would have been suffocated before the morning.

A better kind of habitation, visited by Mr. Smith, deserved the name of house. It was rectangular instead of rounded, and measured thirty feet in length by fifteen in breadth. In the middle of the roof was a hole, by way of chimney, the fire being made directly beneath it. There was no window, the hole and the door being the only apertures for the admission of light and air.

There was only one room, though a sort of loft was made in the roof. This was used as a storehouse, where sacks of beans and similar luxuries were kept. As might be supposed, the whole upper part of the house was thickly encrusted with soot. One of the corners was partitioned off with a sort of wicker-work wall, and served as a granary, in which the wheat was stored.

From the sooty, cobwebbed rafters hung bunches of maize, pumpkins, joints of meat, nets full of potatoes, strings of capsicum pods, and similar articles; while earthenware pots, dishes, and spears were scattered in profusion over the floor. In the middle of all these articles hung two long lances, with their points toward the door; but, although their heads were protected by being stuck into lumps of fat, they were rusty, and had evidently been long out of use.

Two of the corners were occupied with the ordinary bedstead of the country, i. e. a framework of cane, with a bull’s hide stretched tightly over it; and near the beds hung the stock of finery belonging to the owner, namely, spurs, stirrups, and bits, all of solid silver, belonging to the men, and breastpins, necklaces, earrings, strings of thimbles, and other adornments of the women. The usual basket cradle, containing a swathed baby, was suspended from one of the rafters.

The house of a cacique, or chief, is very much larger than either of those which have been described, and somewhat resembles the “long house” of Borneo. One of these houses, belonging to a cacique named Ayllal, looked at a distance something between a very long boat and a haystack. Its height was about fifteen feet, its width thirty, and its length about one hundred and forty.

The middle of the house was common to all the inhabitants, but the sides were partitioned off so as to form a series of chambers, each of which belonged to a married son of the proprietor, or to one of his own wives. In cases where the family is not a very large one, each wife has her own fireplace; but when the number of families under one roof is considerable, one fire is common to two or three of them. In Ayllal’s house there were six fireplaces, and over each was a hole in the roof. The fireplaces are nothing more than a few stones, so arranged that the pots can be kept clear of the burning wood; and, as the ashes are allowed to accumulate where they fall, or to be blown about by every current of air, it is evident that the interior of such a house is not a model of cleanliness.

In consequence of the custom of appropriating a separate fire to each wife, the one is conventionally accepted as a metaphor for the other. It is not considered polite to ask a man how many wives he has, but etiquette permits any one to ask another how many fires he burns. In front of the door hangs a cross-bar, beyond which no one ventures to pass without a special invitation, unless he be an inmate of the house, or an intimate friend of the family.

The Mapuchés exhibit in perfection that curious mixture of the savage and the gentleman that is so often found among uncivilized people. They have a most elaborate code of etiquette, which to a stranger is often irksome, on account of the time which is consumed in going through the requisite formalities. When two persons meet, it is necessary that they should go through a set course of complimentary remarks, the omission of which, except between relatives or very intimate friends, would be held as an unpardonable offence. Let us take Mr. E. R. Smith’s account of the ceremonial:--

“If the guest be a stranger, the host begins by addressing him with ‘I do not know you, brother,’ or ‘I have never seen you before.’ Thereupon the stranger mentions his own name and residence, and goes on to ask the host about himself, his health, and that of his father, mother, wives, and children; about his lands, crops, cattle, and flocks: the chiefs of the district, the neighbors, their wives, children, crops, &c., are next inquired about; and whether there have been any disturbances, diseases, deaths, or accidents.

“If the responses given are favorable, the questioner goes on to express his happiness, and moralizes to the effect that health, wealth, and friendship are great blessings, for which God should be thanked. If, on the contrary, the answers should convey bad news, he condoles with the afflicted, and philosophizes that misfortunes should be borne with equanimity, since men cannot always avoid evil. The guest having finished, the host commences in turn to ask all the same questions, making such comments as the answers received may demand.

“This formality occupies ten or fifteen minutes. The questions and answers are recited (by rote) in a low monotonous voice, with a sing-song tone, not unlike the saying of the rosary or the chanting of friars. At the end of each sentence, if the last word end with a vowel, the voice is raised to a shout; but should the final letter be a consonant, it is rounded off with a nasal grunt. The listener expresses his satisfaction occasionally by a sound between a grunt and a groan, or indicates surprise by a long-drawn “Hué!” With these exceptions, he never interrupts until the speaker has given notice, by a peculiar cadence of the voice, that he has said his say. During this palaver, the speakers often do not look at each other, and frequently even sit with their backs turned to one another.”

As soon as etiquette has been satisfied by these formalities, the speakers assume their ordinary tone of voice, and converse freely on subjects respecting which they really take an interest.

Oratory is highly valued by the Mapuchés, and should a young man have some power of speech, and train it into eloquence, he is on the high road to distinction, and will probably end by becoming a chief, though originally of inferior rank. Such young men are always eagerly sought by the chiefs as their messengers, inasmuch as etiquette requires that such messengers should not only possess a retentive memory, so as to insure, the transmission of the message correctly, but should also be fluent of speech and choice of diction, the latter being a point in which the Mapuchés are exceedingly fastidious.

A young man who shows himself to be a proficient in these three requisites is sure to be taken into the service of an important chief, and indeed he knows his own value too well to damage his prospects by serving any except a man of very high rank. Acting as messenger, he practically becomes a sort of ambassador, on whom the reputation of his principal is reflected, and by associating with the chief men, and speaking at their assemblies, he soon gains for himself that importance which was formerly only accorded to his official capacity. Men of this stamp have frequently become the masters of those whom they formerly served, their abilities having raised them to their appropriate station.

To a stranger the eloquence of these men is utterly unintelligible. They deliver their message in a sort of monotone, varied with inflections, but without the least spirit or action. In fact, they very much resemble schoolboys reciting a piece of poetry which they have learned by rote without taking the trouble to understand it. Yet the Mapuchés are held entranced during the delivery of such a discourse by an accomplished orator, the purity of whose diction excites the respectful admiration of his hearers.

Etiquette is so highly valued among the Araucanians that on one occasion an English gentleman nearly lost his life by neglecting a ceremonial. It seems that every chief, no matter how petty may be his domain, expects that every stranger who passes through his territory shall pay him a tribute. The amount of the tribute is of little consequence, so that something is given as an acknowledgment of rank.

Being new to the country, the gentleman in question was passing through the territory of a chief, when he was stopped and asked for tribute, a demand which he refused to pay, on the ground that he was only a traveller and not a trader. Thereupon a young man leaped into a cabin, brought out a trumpet made of a horn, and blew a blast upon it. The signal was answered in all directions, and from every side there poured in a number of mounted and armed warriors. The traveller was not daunted, in spite of the martial array, cocked his pistols, and awaited the attack, when his guide ran up to him, and begged him to give them something, if it were only a pocket-handkerchief.

The traveller saw at once, from the smallness of the suggested present, that it was a mere question of etiquette, and munificently presented the chief with a jack-knife. Enmity at once gave way to enthusiastic friendship. The old chief was quite overcome by the splendor of the gift, swore eternal friendship with the traveller, and sent a guard of honor to accompany him for several miles on his way.

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We naturally come to the mode of government employed by the Araucanians.

The four great divisions are subdivided into provinces, and these into smaller districts, each of which is presided over by a chief, who exercises a kind of patriarchal authority over his clansmen. He is the judge and arbiter of the clan, and there is no appeal from his decision. Yet he levies no taxes, and cannot force even the lowest of his people to work for him. He can require the services of the men for war or for business of state, but there his authority ends. No land can be sold except by the chief, to whom it is by a sort of legal fiction supposed to belong, and even he cannot sell it to any except a native Araucanian, under penalty of death.

All these chiefs, or caciques, as they are often called, are considered to be equals in point of rank, and independent of each other, though one is chosen on account of his personal abilities to be the head chief of the district, but merely as primus inter pares. The office of chief is generally but not always hereditary. It mostly descends to the eldest son, but the actual holder of the office may bequeath it even to one who belongs to another family. Should a chief die without sons, brother, or a recognized successor, the people have the power of electing a chief for themselves, and it is on such occasions as these that the eloquent messengers lately described find their opportunity of being raised to the rank of cacique.

Up to this point the details of the government are simple enough. We now have to consider a most singular arrangement, unlike that of any other known nation. From the head chiefs of the various districts one is chosen as the Toqui, or head of the province, and these Toquis form the supreme council by whom the affairs of the nation are managed. From among them one is selected as president of the council, and is called by a title which signifies the Grand Toqui. He is the highest personage in the state. He can summon councils whenever he sees occasion, he watches over the welfare of the state, lays before his colleagues any information that he considers important, and on special occasions he can act on his own authority.

When Mr. E. R. Smith travelled in Araucania, the Grand Toqui was an old chief named Mañin, who seems to have been worthy of the position which he held. Mañin Hueno (“the Grass of Heaven”), as he was called by his compatriots, or Mañin Bueno (“Mañin the Good”), as the Chilenos termed him, was a very old man, his age being estimated as falling little short of a century, though his general bearing was such that he might have been taken for little more than sixty. His long black hair was but slightly sprinkled with silver, his eye retained its brightness, and his mien its uprightness; and though his many years had diminished his strength, they had not affected his intellect.

He was held in the very highest respect, as indeed was due to his acknowledged wisdom, by means of which war had many a time been averted. Yet he was not a rich man, and in point of wealth the greater number of the lesser chiefs were far richer than Mañin Hueno. His only marks of wealth were the solid silver horse accoutrements--but even these were not worth fifty pounds of our money; while his apparel was of the simplest kind, a red and yellow handkerchief tied round his head being the most costly article of his apparel.

When a council of Toquis is assembled, the members generally endeavor to outshine each other in the magnificence of their appointments; and after the day’s labor is over, they join in a general debauch, which sometimes lasts for the whole of the next day, and prevents the councillors from resuming their business until they have become sufficiently sober.

Now comes the curious part of Araucanian government. The Supreme Council treats only of the internal management of the nation, and is technically called the Council of Peace. As soon as war is declared, the Council of Peace falls into abeyance, and its place is taken by the Council of War. This is headed by the Toqui of War, who, as long as the war lasts, has unlimited power, except over life. He appoints the officers, settles the number of warriors required, orders a conscription to be set in operation in each district, and lays upon each cacique the duty of levying a certain number of men, and raising a certain amount of supplies. As soon as peace is concluded, he and all his council retire from office, and the Council of Peace reassumes its sway.

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CXXV. THE ARAUCANIANS--Continued

DOMESTIC LIFE.

LOVE OF THE HORSE -- THE STIRRUP, BIT, AND SPUR OF THE ARAUCANIANS -- MODE OF FASTENING THE SPUR ON THE HEEL -- TRAINING OF THE HORSES -- VALUE OF THE HORSE ACCOUTREMENTS -- HATRED OF SHAMS -- LOVE FOR SILVER AND CARELESSNESS OF GOLD -- HOW THE ARAUCANIANS RIDE -- THE BOLAS OR LAQUI, AND THE LASSO -- MODE OF MAKING AND THROWING THE LASSO -- CAPTURE OF A SAVAGE BULL -- COURAGE OF THE ARAUCANIANS -- THEIR SUCCESSFUL STRUGGLE FOR LIBERTY -- CAREER OF A YOUNG HERO -- MARRIAGE AMONG THE ARAUCANIANS -- ABDUCTION OF THE BRIDE -- RECONCILIATION WITH THE PARENTS -- ARAUCANIAN COOKERY -- PREPARING NACHI, CHICA, AND MUDAI -- THRESHING CORN.

We now come to the ordinary life of the Araucanians.

Like the American tribes in general, they have become wonderful adepts in the use of the horse, the climate, the natives, and the horse seeming to agree with each other in a way which is really remarkable, considering that the animal is of comparatively late introduction into America. Unlike the Patagonians, they pride themselves on the massive solidity of the accoutrements with which they bedizen their horses; and, although they care little about the individual animals, and are rather hard masters to them, they bedeck the horses in the most lavish manner.

Their saddles are made very much after the fashion employed by the Patagonians, being little more than rude wooden frames. A few skins are laid on the back of the horse, the saddle is placed on them, a saddle cloth of thick leather is thrown over it, and the whole apparatus is complete. The bridle is made, like that of the Patagonians, of twisted hide, or sometimes of a number of strips of horse-skin plaited together, a few threads of silver being mingled with them. The bit is generally the ordinary Spanish bit, with its cruelly powerful arrangement of curb and ring.

The stirrups are generally nothing more than a piece of cane twisted into a triangular form, and hung to the saddle by leathern cords; but the wealthy Araucanians pride themselves in having these articles of solid silver. The shape of these stirrups varies in some degree, the usual form resembling that of the English stirrup, but very much larger and heavier, the sides being from one to two inches wide, and pierced in ornamental patterns, while the cross-bar on which the foot rests is fully two inches in width.

The form of stirrup to which they are most partial resembles the other, as far as the side pieces are concerned; but the foot-bar is developed into a large plate of silver, which comes over the front of the stirrup, and protects the toes and instep from the thorns which are plentiful in the country. The back of this plate projects behind in a sharp point, which is used as a spur.

About the spurs themselves the Araucanian is very fastidious. They are of enormous size, and armed with rowels measuring from two to three inches in diameter, and sometimes even exceeding that measurement. It may be imagined that spurs of this size, which are exceedingly weighty, must be buckled on the feet very tightly, so as to keep them in their places.

This, however, is not the case. On the contrary, the strap by which they are fastened is quite loose, so that when the wearer walks the rowels trail on the ground, and when he is mounted they hang nearly perpendicularly from his heels. The Araucanian cares little for the impediment in walking, as he never walks twenty yards if he can help himself; while the position of the spurs when he is mounted is a real necessity. An illustration of stirrups and spurs is given on the 1175th page.

The horses are never more than half trained. They are taught to wheel within a very small circle, to stop suddenly and throw themselves on their haunches, and to dash off at full gallop; but that is the extent of their accomplishments. Many of them are young, spirited, and nervous steeds, and if, in the course of the struggles for victory which they occasionally attempt, the spurs were to come against their sides, they would be greatly alarmed, and their struggles would only be increased. But as the spurs hang down almost below the rider’s feet, they swing clear of the horse’s flanks, while at any time, if they are needed for use, the wearer has only to bend his feet, which brings them into position.

The Araucanians have a very wholesome contempt for shams, and will have nothing that has any pretence about it. The poorest peasant, who can only afford an iron spur, or possibly not even a spur of any kind, would scorn to wear either spur or stirrups of plated metal, or of any imitation of silver, however good.

They are so fastidious in this matter that they will not use articles that have been made abroad; and even if a spur is made of solid silver in imitation of their own patterns, they will be nearly certain to reject it, the workmanship being sure to betray itself to their experienced eyes. A high polish always excites their suspicions, inasmuch as the native artificers are incapable of imparting it. All these articles are made from the silver currency of the country, and the wealthy Araucanian always carries with him a pair of balances, and a number of dollars which serve as standard weights.

It may be imagined that the purchase of a pair of spurs or stirrups is a matter of importance with these people. The buyer sits in silence on the ground, takes the spurs, and examines every part with the minutest attention, scrutinizing every joint, smelling the metal, tasting it, and ringing it, in order to judge whether it has been debased by the mixture of any inferior material. Not only spurs and stirrups, but pendants for the bridle, and ornaments for the headstalls and saddles, are made of silver; so that the accoutrements of a wealthy Araucanian will sometimes be worth a hundred and fifty pounds, merely as silver, without regard to the value of the workmanship.

The men who make these highly prized ornaments use the very rudest of tools, and their workshops are but rough hovels, quite out of keeping with the barbaric magnificence of their wares. Sometimes the artificer makes the ornaments for sale; but in the case of large articles, such as spurs or stirrups, which weigh several pounds, and consume a great number of dollars, he prefers to wait for the order, and make the required article out of the bag of dollars with which it is accompanied.

It is remarkable that the Araucanians, fond as they are of silver, will have nothing to do with gold. Besides these horse accoutrements, they wear earrings, breastpins, and other ornaments of silver, but none of gold. Some travellers think that their reason for the rejection of gold is their wish to conceal its presence in the country from the knowledge of the foreigner, remembering that it was the cause of the disastrous war with the Spanish invader. The real cause is, probably, that it cannot be procured in sufficient quantities without more labor than they choose to bestow, and that they have not learned to work gold as they do silver.

The Araucanians are admirable riders, though their seat would not please an European riding master. They depend entirely on balance for retaining their seat, and seem rather to hang on the horse’s back than to hold by any grip of the knee. Indeed, a stranger to the country always thinks that an Araucanian rider is on the point of being thrown, so loose is his seat, whereas the very idea that he can by any possibility be thrown never enters his mind. He and his horse seem one being, actuated by one mind. A traveller once saw a horse take fright, and leap sideways from the object of terror. He thought that the rider must be flung by the suddenness of the movement; but, to all appearance, the man took fright and shied at the same moment with his horse.

The Araucanians use the bolas in common with their southern neighbors, the Patagonians, and are never seen without the “laqui,” as they term the weapon, hanging at their waists. Some of them have a way of leaving one of the balls without its covering of leather, saying that the covered bolas is used when they fight with friends, but the bare bolas when they fight with an enemy.

They also use the lasso, that terrible weapon which extends over so vast a territory, and which supersedes the bolas as it proceeds northward.

This terrible weapon is simple enough in principle, being nothing more than a leathern rope, forty feet in length, with a noose at the end. As, however, the construction is rather ingenious, I have given an illustration on the 1175th page, taken from specimens in my possession. Fig. 1 shows the lasso coiled through the strap by which it is attached to the saddle of the rider. It is made of a number of thongs of raw hide, plaited into a round rope, about three-eighths of an inch in diameter; so that, although it appears very slender, it really possesses enormous strength, and an elephant could scarcely break it. This part of the rope is shown at fig. 5.

For the last ten feet of its length the rope is much thicker, is composed of more strips of hide, and is plaited into a square form. At the extreme end the various strands are plaited round an iron ring, as seen at fig. 4. Through this ring the lasso passes, so as to form a running noose. The change from the round to the square plait is seen at fig. 3, and fig. 2 shows the peculiar knot which keeps the lasso from slipping from the saddle.

Fig. 6 shows the end of another sort of lasso, made of the silk-grass fibre, i. e. the long fibres from the leaves of a species of agave. These fibres are wonderfully strong, and the lasso is remarkable, not only for its strength, but its elasticity. Instead of an iron ring being placed at the end, the rope is brought round so as to form a loop, the interior of which is lined with stout leather, and the exterior adorned with colored wools.

When the lasso is to be used, the thrower takes the ring in his left hand, and the lasso in the right, and separates his arms so as to make a running noose nearly six feet in length. Grasping the ring and the cord with his left hand, he slips his right hand along the rope so as to double it, and there holds it. When he throws it, he whirls it round his head until the noose becomes quite circular, and then hurls it at the object, throwing after it the remainder of the rope, which has hung in coils on his left arm. As it passes through the air, the noose becomes gradually smaller, so that the thrower can always graduate the diameter of the noose to the object which it is intended to secure.

The skill with which they fling this noose is wonderful, as may be seen from Mr. Smith’s account of a struggle with an infuriated bull:--

“The capture of a particular animal from a herd, within a range of pasture utterly unbounded except by mountains and rivers, is often difficult, and gives rise to many exciting cases and ludicrous scenes. Even when taken, the captives are not easy of management, their attachment for old associates manifesting itself in frequent attempts to return.

“One particular bull gave great trouble. He was a noble fellow, of spotless white,--such an one as bore the beautiful Europa through the waters of the Phœnician deep, or such an one as might be worshipped on the shores of the Ganges.

“After a long time he was lassoed, and the horseman, who had literally taken the bull by the horns, started off complacently to lead him to the place of gathering. But his bullship did not take the going as a matter of course; for, with a mad bellow, he charged upon his captor, who, seeing a very formidable pair of horns dashing toward him, started at full gallop, still holding fast the lasso, which he in vain tried to keep taut. The horse was jaded, and old Whitey was fast gaining. Another Indian bounded forward, and, dexterously throwing his lasso, caught the unoccupied horn, bringing up the prisoner with a round turn.

“The bull was not yet conquered. After plunging, pawing, bellowing, and tossing for a while, he changed his tactics. Making a rush and a feint at one of his annoyers, he wheeled about suddenly, and nearly succeeded in catching the other on his horns. Things were becoming more complicated than ever, when, as the infuriated animal stood head down, with his tail stuck out at an angle of fifty-five degrees, a third horseman came to the attack, and, whirling his lasso with a jerk, caught the caudal extremity in a running knot.

“Thus the two men at the sides were safe, provided that the man behind kept his lasso strained. But a question in the rule of three now arose. If three men catch a bull, one by each horn, and one by the tail, and all pull in different directions, which way can the bull go?

“No one seemed able to work out the answer; but Katrilas was a man ready for all emergencies, and, dismounting, he started to the assistance of his companions, armed with a long lance and an old poncho. Running before the bull, he threw the poncho on the ground, a few paces in front, the man behind slackened a little, and the bellowing captive made a desperate plunge at the red cloth. A jerk on the tail stopped further progress, till Katrilas, picking up the poncho on the tip of the lance, tossed it several yards in advance. There was another slackening, another plunge, another jerk, and so on, until the ‘critter’ was brought to the desired spot.

“The next trouble was to loose the captive. Sundry scientific pulls brought him to the ground, and Katrilas, springing forward, stripped the lassos from his horns. But another remained on the tail. That no one would venture to untie, for the bull had risen, and stood glaring frantically around. An Indian, unsheathing his long knife, ran full tilt at the extended tail, and with one blow severed the greater part of that useful member from the body.

“The last was literally the ‘unkindest cut of all.’ The poor brute was fairly conquered. He stood with head hanging, eyes glaring, the tongue lolling from his frothing mouth, his once spotless coat defiled with foam and dirt, while the drip, drip, drip, of the warm blood upon his heels rendered the abjectness of his misery complete.”

That the Araucanians are a courageous race is evident from their struggles with the Spaniards. Though vanquished again and again by the superior arms and discipline of the Spaniards, they were never conquered, and when repulsed, only retired to gather fresh forces. Toqui after Toqui fell in the struggle, the most remarkable of these warriors being a mere youth named Lautaro, who was unanimously elected to the post in consequence of his conduct when the Araucanians attacked the Spaniards at Tucapel. He was a captive and a servant in the family of Valdivia, when the place was attacked. The Spanish musketry told so terribly upon the Araucanians, that they were on the point of retreating, when Lautaro dashed forward, rallied his countrymen, and led them to the attack with such spirit that the whole Spanish force was destroyed with the exception of two, who escaped to Concepcion with the news of the defeat. Valdivia himself was captured, and it is said that Lautaro desired to save the life of his former master, when an old chief seized an axe and dashed out the brains of the captive general.

Foreseeing that General F. de Villa Gran, who was at Concepcion, would march at once to avenge the destruction of Tucapel, Lautaro assembled the troops, pushed forward, and concealed half of them in the sides of a defile through which the road led, while the other half were also concealed at the summit of the mountain. The battle began in the defile, and, after causing great destruction among the enemy, the Araucanians had to retire.

Fancying that the enemy were beaten, the Spaniards pressed on, and arriving wearied at the summit, found a second and fresh army opposed to them. They fought with the utmost courage, and their artillery nearly turned the day in their favor, when Lautaro told off one of his bravest officers with orders to capture the cannon, while he attacked Villa Gran on the flank. So furiously was the charge made, that the guns were taken, and the Spaniards had to retreat, Villa Gran barely escaping with his life.

When they entered the pass through which they had come, they found the outlet blocked with fallen trees, and the sides filled with warriors, whom the far-seeing Lautaro had despatched for that purpose at the beginning of the conflict. The slaughter was terrific, and only a few of the Spaniards escaped, led by Villa Gran, who at last forced his way through the barriers.

Lautaro showed his splendid generalship, by pushing on at once to the headquarters at Concepcion, which he took, pillaged, and burned. Orders were received from Lima to rebuild Concepcion, and no sooner was it done than Lautaro captured and burned it again. He then conceived the bold project of attacking Santiago itself, and in a wonderfully short time appeared before the place.

Here he committed his only error in generalship. He had to pass through the territory of the Purumancians, who had become allies of the Spaniards, thinking them invincible. Lautaro should have remembered that the late defeats must have altered the opinions of the Purumancians, who could have been easily induced to act against their former allies. But his indignation at their treachery was so great, that he stopped to ravage their territory and destroy their crops.

Villa Gran, who was then the governor of Santiago, knew his enemy well, and employed the time in fortifying the city, which would have fallen at once had Lautaro pushed on without stopping to punish his traitorous countrymen. Three times Villa Gran sent a force against the Araucanians, the last being commanded by his own son, but all were routed and driven back.

At last Villa Gran, stung by these repeated defeats, determined himself to conduct an expedition against his foes, and with a mixed force of Spaniards and Purumancians came stealthily upon the Araucanian camp. Born general though he was, Lautaro did not know the use of outposts, and the consequence was, that Villa Gran surprised his camp, and as he rushed to the front to rally his followers, he was pierced by a dart flung by one of the Purumancians, and fell dead on the spot.

Thus fell Lautaro, a youth worthy to be named with the greatest heroes of antiquity. Chosen commander at the age of seventeen, he opposed for two years the best soldiers of Europe, armed with infinitely superior weapons, and accustomed to military discipline. Though a mere boy, he displayed a military skill and a fertility of resource worthy of the most accomplished generals, and by sheer force of intellect and courage won every battle except that in which he fell.

A nation which could produce men such as Lautaro, or the troops who fought and conquered under his command, is evidently capable of great things, and, at all events, worthy of the liberty which it won from the Spaniards, and which has never again been threatened.

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Marriage among the Araucanians is an odd mixture of ceremonies. Theoretically, the bridegroom is supposed to steal his wife against her own will and in opposition to the wishes of her parents; practically, he buys her from her parents, who have long looked upon their daughter as a valuable article, to be sold to the first purchaser who will give a sufficient price.

Sometimes the match is one of affection, the two young people understanding each other perfectly well. Music is the usual mode by which an Araucanian expresses his feelings, and the usual instrument is the jews-harp. The Mapuché lover is never seen without his jews-harp hanging from his neck, tied upon a little block of wood to prevent it from being injured, and decorated with strings of many-colored beads. Furnished with this indispensable instrument, the lover seats himself at a little distance from the object of his choice, and produces a series of most dolorous sounds, his glances and gestures denoting the individual for whom they are meant.

After a little while, the lover thinks that he had better proceed to the marriage. Should he be a wealthy man, he has no trouble in the matter; but if not, he goes among his friends and asks contributions from them. One gives an ox, another a horse, another a pair of silver spurs, and so on. It is a point of honor to make these contributions, and equally so to return them at some time or other, even if the intending bridegroom has to wait until in his turn he can sell his eldest girl.

The next process is, that the friends of the young man assemble, all mounted on their best horses, and proceed in a body to the house of the girl’s father. Five or six of the best speakers dismount and ask permission for the marriage, extolling to the utmost the merits of the bridegroom, and expatiating on the happiness of his daughter in being married to such a man. The father, treating the matter as gravely as if he had not done exactly the same thing himself, makes a speech in his turn.

All this ceremony is intended to give time to the young man to hunt for his intended bride, and, until he has found her, they will go on with their speeches. As soon as the young man discovers the girl, he seizes her and drags her to the door, while on her part she screams and shrieks for protection. At the sound of her voice all the women turn out, armed with sticks, stones, and any other weapons which come to hand, and rush to her help. The friends of the bridegroom in their turn run to help their friend, and for some time there is a furious combat, none of the men escaping without some sharp bruises, and the girl screaming at the top of her voice.

At last the bridegroom dashes at the girl, seizes her as he can, by the hand, the hair, or the heels, as the case may be, drags her to his horse, leaps on its back, pulls her up after him, and dashes off at full speed, followed by his friends. The relatives of the girl go off in pursuit, but are constantly checked by the friends of the bridegroom, who keep them back until he has dashed into the forest with his bride. They halt at the skirts of the forest, wait until the sounds of the girl’s screams and the galloping of the horse have died away, and then disperse. This Araucanian ceremony of marriage is represented on the following page.

The young couple are now left alone until they emerge from the wood on the second day after the abduction, when they are supposed to be man and wife. That all the fighting and screaming are a mere farce is evident from the fact that, if a man should offer himself who is not acceptable to the parents of the girl, and should proceed to carry her off, one of her relatives blows the horn of alarm, as has already been mentioned, and all the male relations turn out and drive off the intruder. Sometimes, however, he succeeds in gaining the bush before he is caught, and in that case the marriage holds good.

Some few days after the marriage, the friends call on the newly-married couple, and bring the contributions which they had promised. The whole party then proceed to the house of the girl’s father, and offer him these goods, which are taken as if they were merely offerings, and not the price for which the girl was sold. Being satisfied with the presents, he expresses himself pleased with the marriage, and congratulates the young couple and their friends.

But the mother is not so easily to be satisfied. With her it is a point of honor that she is not satisfied, but, on the contrary, is highly outraged at the abduction of her child. So she will neither speak to nor look at the bridegroom, but sits down with her back turned to him.

Now comes a difficult point. She is bound, in accordance with the laws of hospitality, to entertain the guests, and as the offending son-in-law is the most important person, he must be consulted first. So she addresses the bride, “My daughter, ask your husband if he is hungry.” The conversation thus begun is carried on in a similar manner, and ends with an entertainment on which the mother of the bride exhausts all her culinary knowledge. Sometimes the husband never addresses his mother-in-law for years, except with her back turned to him, or with a fence intervening between them. The reader may remember that a similar custom is followed by the Kaffir tribes of Southern Africa. See page 88.

* * * * *

The cookery of the Araucanians is at first anything but agreeable to European taste.

Mutton is largely consumed in the country, and is killed, dressed, and cooked in a speedy and simple manner. The sheep being hung by its hind legs to a tree, its throat is cut, and the blood is received into a bowl and mixed with salt, in which state it is thought to be a very great delicacy. The sheep is then opened, and the whole of the interior removed to be cleaned and cooked, this being held as the best part of the animal. The skin is then removed, the body is split along the spine from head to tail, and each half is transfixed with a stick, and set over the fire.

The greatest delicacy, however, that can be placed before a guest is called “nachi.” The mode of preparing this dish is a good example of the total disregard of inflicting pain which is common to all uncivilized people.

A sheep is hung up by the fore-legs, a quantity of cayenne pepper and salt is mixed in a bowl, and the throat of the sheep is cut so as to open the windpipe, down which the operator stuffs the salt and pepper as fast as he can. He then draws out the jugular vein, cuts it, and turns the end into the severed windpipe, down which the blood flows, so as to mix with the pepper and salt, and carry them into the lungs. The unfortunate sheep swells up and dies in horrible agony, which is totally disregarded by the spectators, not from intentional cruelty, but utter want of thought. The sheep is then opened, and the lungs are found distended with a mixture of salt, pepper, and blood. This is the nachi, which is served up by being cut in slices and handed to the guests while still warm.

There are two national drinks, namely, chica and mudai. The former is a sort of cider, and prepared as follows. A sheepskin is laid on the ground, with the woolly side downward, and a ponchoful of green apples is emptied on it. Two or three men sit round it armed with switches, with which they beat the apples, and in a short time convert them into a pulp. Water is next poured upon them, and the chica is ready for use. The men take up large handfuls of the pulp, and squeeze them into jars, this being all the preparation which the chica receives.

This drink is at first hated by foreigners, and afterward liked by them. See, for example, two extracts from the journal of the same traveller. “After riding for a long time in the hot sun without meeting any running stream, we spied a farmhouse in the distance, and, going to it asked for a glass of water.

“‘There is not a drop of water within a mile of the house,’ said an old woman who came to the door, ‘but we can give you some chica de manzanos (cider) that is very nice,’ producing at the word a huge glass of a green, muddy liquid. To call it vinegar would be too high a compliment, and to add that it was flavored with gall would convey no adequate idea of this abominable stuff, which had been made from the very greenest of green apples. One mouthful sufficed for me, and my first impressions of chica de manzanos were not favorable; but our guide tossed it off with infinite relish.”

This description was written immediately after entering the country for the first time. Here is another description of the same liquid. After describing the mode of its manufacture, he proceeds to say: “Such cider is somewhat coffee colored, and rather sour, but I soon became fond of it, especially with the addition of a little toasted meal, which makes it much more palatable.”

Mudai is a drink which resembles almost exactly the kava of Polynesia, and is prepared in the same manner, meal being substituted for the kava root. A bushel or so of wheat is slowly boiled for several hours, after which the decoction is strained off and set to cool. In order to hasten fermentation, a quantity of meal is masticated and added to the liquid. The effect is very rapid, and when fermentation has fairly begun, the mudai is fit for use, and is strained off into jars. It has a muddy look, but possesses a pleasant and slightly acid flavor, which is very agreeable in a hot country if the mode of preparation be not known.

Wheat is prepared in a rather peculiar, not to say poetical and romantic, manner. The sickle is not employed, but the ears are plucked by hand. The wheat gatherers separate themselves into pairs, a young man and a girl taking a basket between them, and walking slowly through the cornfield. As they pass along, they gather the ears, rubbing them on the back of their companion’s hand, so that the ripe grains fall into the basket. They accompany the light toil with songs, which mostly treat of love, and as the tendency of each pair is naturally to diverge from the others, it happens that in this way is originated many a love-match, which afterward finds its issue in the marriage ceremonies above described.

This plan is, however, only employed when corn has to be gathered and threshed on a small scale. When a large quantity is prepared the horse is brought into requisition, the ears being thrown into a circular shallow pit, round and round which six or seven horsemen urge their steeds, shouting and yelling as if mad. When they think that the grain is sufficiently released from the ears, they leap out of the ring, and a number of women and children enter, who sweep up the corn and chaff to the edge of the ring with bunches of twigs which serve as brooms.

This operation, however, is a very imperfect one, and before the corn can be taken to the mill a further husking has to be performed. This is done by placing the wheat in shallow wooden dishes, getting into them barefooted, and keeping up a sort of shuffling dance, throwing up the grain with each foot alternately, and rubbing it with the other.

The winnowing is simply accomplished by flinging the wheat into the air, so that the chaff is blown away by the wind. As to the grinding, it is exactly similar to that mode which is practised by the Kaffirs, the women placing the corn on the top of a flat, sloping stone, and rubbing it with another stone shaped like a rolling-pin. The mill being placed on a sheepskin, the meal falls upon the skin as it is ground. This is very hard work indeed, and even the skilled Araucanians are bathed in perspiration before they have ground enough corn for a meal.

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CXXVI. THE ARAUCANIANS--Concluded

GAMES AND SOCIAL CUSTOMS.

THE GAME OF PELICAN, AND ITS CLOSE RESEMBLANCE TO HOCKEY -- AVAS, OR THE EIGHT BEANS GAME -- MANUFACTURES -- MAKING BROTHERHOOD, AND EXCHANGING NAMES -- AN IRRUPTION OF NEW RELATIVES -- STATE OF THE HEALING ART -- THE MACHIS OR DOCTORS -- THEIR MODE OF WORKING CURES -- A WEIRD-LIKE SCENE -- THE FEMALE DOCTOR AT HER INCANTATION -- FEAR OF ALLOWING THE NAME TO BE KNOWN -- BELIEF IN OMENS -- THE LUCKY BIRDS -- HUMAN SACRIFICE -- FUNERAL OF A CHIEF.

The games of the Araucanians are tolerably numerous, and one or two of them resemble some of our own games. There is one, for example, called Pelican, which is almost identical with the well-known game of hockey. An animated description of this game is given by Mr. E. R. Smith:--

“Early in the morning we saw a number of boys engaged upon the fine lawn in front of the house in planting out twigs at short intervals, thus forming an alley about forty feet wide, and some three hundred long. They were preparing for a game of Pelican. Others were blowing a long horn (formed by the insertion of a cow’s horn in a hollow cane), to the tones of which came back answering notes, as though a rival band were approaching over the hills. The night before, we had heard the same challenge to the neighboring youths, and the same echoing reply, but more faint and distant. At last the enemy were seen emerging from the woods; a shout of welcome arose; there were many salutations, a ‘big talk,’ and all put themselves in readiness for the great trial of skill.

“The game of Pelican ... is played with a small wooden ball, propelled along the ground by sticks curved at the lower end. The two sides have their bases at opposite extremities of the alley. The ball is placed in a hole half-way between the bases, and over it two boys are stationed, while the other players are scattered along the alley, each armed with a stick. When all is ready, the two boys strike their sticks together in the air, and commence a struggle for the ball, each striving to knock it toward the opposite party.

“The object of every one is to drive the ball through his opponent’s base, or, in defence of his own, to knock it sideways beyond the bordering line of twigs, in which case the trial is put down as drawn, and recommences. Each game is duly notched on a stick, and the party first tallying a certain number gains the victory.

“There was much shouting and shuffling, many a cracked shin and an occasional tumble, but the greatest goodwill reigned throughout. Some thirty players were engaged in the game, mostly naked, with the exception of a poncho about the loins. I was much disappointed with their physical development, which was not as I expected to see. They struck me as inferior to the laboring classes in Chili, both in muscle and symmetry, though possessing the same general features. Neither was their playing remarkable either for skill or activity; and if they were a fair sample, it would be an easy matter to select from many of our schools or colleges a party of young men more than a match for the same number of picked Araucanians, even at their own national game of Pelican.”

When the sun is too high to allow this game to proceed, the players generally abandon it in favor of another game called Avas. This is purely a game of chance. It is played with eight beans, each having a mark on one side, and ten sticks, which are used in reckoning the game. Spreading a poncho on the ground, the players sit at opposite sides, and each in turn takes the beans, shakes them in his hands, and flings them on the poncho. For each bean that falls with the marked side upward one point is scored, a hundred completing the game.

The interest displayed in this game is extraordinary. The players shout to the beans, talk to them, kiss them, press them to their breasts, and rub them on the ground, imploring them to send good luck to themselves, and evil fortune to their antagonists, and treating them exactly as if they were living creatures. At this game they stake all the property that they can muster, and ponchos, bolas, lassos, knives, ornaments, and dollars when they can be got, change hands with great rapidity amid the excited yells of the players and spectators. At this game the Araucanians frequently lose every article of property which they possess, and it is not at all uncommon to see a well-dressed and well-armed player go disconsolately home without his weapons, his ornaments, and his clothes, except a ragged cheripa.

The fate of prisoners of war often depends on the turn of a bean, and sometimes, when the national council have been unable to decide on a subject, they have settled the point by the result of a game at avas. Even the pelican game has sometimes been entrusted with the decision of a knotty point of policy.

The manufactures of the Araucanians are but few. The art of the silversmith has already been described, as has also that of the bolas maker, while the manufacture of the lasso will be described in another place. The native cloths are made of cotton or wool, and are woven in very rude looms. The principal dye employed by the Araucanians is indigo, and the bright scarlet patterns which are introduced into the best cloths are obtained by interweaving threads unravelled from European manufactures.

Among their social customs, the mode of making brotherhood ought to be mentioned, inasmuch as it resembles in some respects that which has already been described as practised in the Malay Archipelago and in Africa, and in others. The ceremony is called Lacu, and is performed after the following manner.

One individual is selected from the family into which the honored guest is to be received, and to him a present is made. He then fetches a lamb, kills it, cuts it into two pieces, and boils one-half of the animal. The meat is then placed in a huge wooden bowl, and brought to the new brother in Lacu, who is supposed to eat the whole of it, and if he should leave a single mouthful would grievously insult the family into which he was to be received.

Fortunately, he is allowed by the laws of etiquette to take advantage of the adage, qui facit per alium facit per se; and though he cannot by any possibility consume half a lamb, he is allowed to eat as much as he can manage and to distribute the remainder among the family, who are only too happy to take their share in fulfilling the required conditions. From that time the two Lacus exchange names.

Mr. E. R. Smith went through the ceremony of Lacu, and became a member of the Mapuché tribe, under the name of Nam-culan, an abbreviation of Namcu-Lanquen, i. e. Eaglet of the Sea. Sometime afterward he found that his relations were strangely numerous.

“After the usual meal, the usual distribution of presents was made, and as the family was small we were just congratulating ourselves on escaping cheaply, when in sauntered a neighbor, who was presented as my brother. He had hardly settled down to the enjoyment of his share of the booty, when in dropped a blear-eyed old woman, who proved to be my aunt. Next followed a stately dowager, fair, fat, and forty, radiant with paint and silver ornaments, looking as innocent as though she had dropped in by the merest accident in the world. She was my sister, and so it went on until we began to think that our host’s relations were innumerable.”

* * * * *

The Araucanians know a little about medicine, and much more about surgery, though the mixture of superstition with practice lessens the former, and the absence of a written language hinders the latter. Their medicines are almost entirely vegetable, the chief of which is the well-known sarsaparilla root. Bleeding is performed by means of sharp flakes of obsidian, which are sharper than any knife of native manufacture, and blisters are in great favor.

The Mapuché mode of blistering is the very simple one of the actual cautery, and is performed by means of a moxa made of dried pith. This material is rolled up in little balls and applied to the skin, where it is allowed to remain until entirely consumed, being pressed down so as to ensure its full effect. This is horribly painful, but in spite of that drawback--perhaps in consequence of it--is very much in favor with the people.

Beside these material medicines they have others of a different character, which are employed when the disease is beyond the reach of their simple medicines. The wise men who practise this advanced system of healing are but few in number, and are called by the title of Machi, their mode of practice receiving the name of machilun.

Going on the principle that a disease which cannot be expelled by medicine must be caused by an evil spirit, the Machi proceeds to drive it out after his own fashion. The hut is cleared of inhabitants, and the patient laid on his back in the middle of the floor. The Machi, having in the meanwhile removed nearly the whole of his clothes, and made himself as horrible as he can by paint, enters the dwelling, taking with him his magic drum, i. e. a wooden bowl with a cover of sheepskin strained tightly over it. After examining the patient, the Machi begins a long-drawn monotonous incantation, accompanied by continual beating of the drum, until he has worked himself up to a pitch of frenzy, and falls backward on the ground, with breast jerking convulsively, eyes rolling, and mouth foaming.

As soon as he falls, a number of young men, who have been waiting close to the hut, leap on their horses, and dash at full speed round the house, yelling defiantly, waving lighted torches over their heads, and brandishing their long lances by way of frightening the evil spirit, and warning him not to come near the place again. Like the Machi, they are all nearly naked, and painted in the most hideous fashion, so as to strike terror, not only into the spirit that has possession of the man, but into those who are hovering round the house, and trying to gain admission. In the first engraving on the next page the artist has furnished a strange, weird scene, illustrating the Mapuché mode of healing the sick.

After a while the Machi recovers from his trance, and then announces the seat and immediate cause of the malady. For the latter he carefully searches the patient, and after a time produces it in the shape of a spider, a toad, a stone, an arrow head, or similar object. Were he to do more than this, no harm would accrue, and if the patient should recover no harm is done.

But, should he die, the Machi is forced by public opinion to declare that the evil spirit has been sent to the dead man by means of witchcraft.

The body is opened, the gall removed, and placed in the wooden bowl of the magic drum, where it undergoes a series of incantations. After they are over, it is put into a closely covered pot and placed on the fire until it is dried up. The sign of witchcraft is a stone found at the bottom of the pot, and it is needless to say that such a stone is never wanting. By means of this proof of witchcraft, the Machi again throws himself into a trance, in the course of which he designates the culprit who has caused the illness of the deceased.

No one ever disbelieves a Machi, and the relatives of the dead man seek out the accused and murder him. It naturally follows that the Machis are too prone to abuse this terrible power of their position by accusing persons against whom they have enmity, or whom they have been bribed to condemn. No counter proof is admitted in the face of a Machi’s accusation; and if the alleged culprit should be in another district, the cacique is requested to deliver him up to justice. The unfortunate wretch is sure to suffer torture for the sake of extracting a confession of his guilt, and, whether he confess or not, he is sure to be killed; so that a wise man admits his guilt at once, and thereby escapes the tortures which he would otherwise have suffered.

Sometimes, though rarely, the Machi is a woman. In this case she assumes the male dress, mimics as far as she can the masculine tone of voice and mode of walking, and is always a very disagreeable individual, being mostly crabbed, ill-tempered, petulant, and irritable.

As the Machi always operates at night, the scene is most wild and picturesque, as may be seen from the account of Mr. E. R. Smith, who witnessed (at a distance) the operations of a female Machi.

“One of the neighbors was dangerously ill, and during the night there was a grand machilun performed by the grand exorcist, the medicine woman of Boroa herself. I wished to be present, but Sancho would not listen to the proposal, insisting that we might expose ourselves to violence by appearing to interfere with this witch, whose hatred of the whites and influence over the natives were alike unbounded.

“The night was black and threatening, well suited to her machinations. We could plainly hear the monotonous tap of the Indian drum, and the discordant song occasionally rising with the frenzy of the moment into a shrill scream, then sinking to a low, guttural cadence, while all else was hushed for very dread of the unhallowed rites. Suddenly the singing stopped, and there was a long silence, broken by the eruption of a troop of naked savages rushing round the house on horse and afoot, brandishing fiercely lance, and sword, and burning fagot and blazing torch, and making night hideous with their demoniac cries. The frightened dogs howled in dismal concert, and again all was still. The evil spirit had been cast out and driven away. It only remained for the sick man to recover or die.”

The witch who presided over this extraordinary scene was a mestizo, i. e. a half-breed between the negro and the native. She was a singularly unprepossessing personage, hideously ugly, and turning her ugliness of features to account by her shrewdness of intellect. Ugliness is not, however, a necessary accompaniment of this particular caste. There is now before me a photograph of a young mestizo woman, whose features, although they partake somewhat of the negro character, are good and intelligent, her color is comparatively pale, and her hair retains the length and thickness of the Araucanian, together with a crispness which has been inherited from the negro race.

Like many other uncivilized nations, the Araucanians have a great objection to allow a stranger to learn their names, thinking that by means of such knowledge the wizards may be able to practise upon them. When they are brought into contact with the white man, and are asked their names, the Araucanians flatly deny that they have any. They will take service under him, and allow him to call them by any name that he likes, but their own name they will never tell, nor do they like even to invent one on the spur of the moment. The reader will doubtless recall many similar instances that have been recorded in the course of this work. They have a similar objection to their portraits being taken, thinking that the possessor will be able to exercise magical influence upon them by means of the simulated features.

This terror has been increased by the use of books by the white travellers. Nothing is more inexplicable to an Araucanian than to see a white man, evidently ignorant of the language, refer to a book and then say the word which he wants. How such a mystery can be achieved is beyond his comprehension, and he regards the book and its owner as equally supernatural beings.

In one case, an Indian of more than usually inquisitive mind pointed to various objects, in order to see whether his white visitor could find out their names by looking at a book. Being convinced that the feat really was performed, he peered into the book, vainly trying to detect some resemblance between the word and the object which it signified. As he did not gain much information from his eyes, his white friend pointed out the word, on which he laid his hand as if to feel it. Just at that moment, a slight breeze ruffled the leaves of the book. The man drew back as if a snake had bitten him. The mysterious voice of the white man’s oracle had spoken to him, and, what was worse, upon his left hand. He said nothing, but silently withdrew, and, wrapping his poncho round his head, sat for several hours without speaking a word.

In consequence of this superstition, a traveller dares not use his note book openly. He is obliged to write his remarks surreptitiously, and, so great is the fear inspired by the very fact of writing, that even if the traveller be out of sight for any lengthened time, the people are nervous and suspicious.

The Araucanians have a firm belief in omens, and will address prayers after their own fashion to any of the creatures that are supposed to have supernatural power. On one occasion, when Mr. E. R. Smith was travelling with his native friends, one of the mules fell and broke its back. This was a sinister omen, and the Araucanians were correspondingly depressed at it. Fortunately, an omen so good followed it that their fears were dispelled and confidence restored.

The reader may remember that Mr. Smith had just exchanged names with a Mapuché lad, and was called Namcu-lanquen, i. e. Eaglet of the Sea. Just after the unlucky mule had injured itself, a sea eagle rose suddenly from its perch, circled around the party, and sailed off southward. This was indeed a fortunate omen. In the first place, the bird was the emblem of the white man who had recently become a Mapuché, and in the next, the eagle was on the right hand of the travellers.

The native guide Trauque put spurs to his horse, dashed forward at full gallop, shouting and yelling with excitement at the piece of good fortune that had befallen them. Presently he halted, and addressed a prayer to the eagle: “O Namcu! Great being! Look not upon us with thy left but with thy right eye, for thou knowest that we are poor! Watch over our children and brothers; and grant us happiness, and allow us to return in safety from our journey.”

Every circumstance combined to make the omen propitious. The Namcu is the being most venerated by the Araucanians, who think that it is a sort of heavenly messenger in direct communication with the Superior Being. The reader will doubtless be struck with the coincidence between the bird divinations of the Araucanians and those of the Dyaks of Borneo, as well as by their identity with the auguries of ancient Greece and Rome.

With the exception of the wise men above mentioned, the Araucanians have no priests, and as a necessary consequence they have no temples and no religious ceremonies. There is a general though vague belief in a good and evil principle, which may be manifested by a host of inferior deities or demons. They have not even an idol, nor is there any definite system of worship, the only prayers which a native makes being invocations such as that which has just been described as made to the eagle.

Sacrifices are made at their great national councils. An animal is killed, its blood is poured on the ground as a libation, and the heart, laid on a green branch, is borne round the assembly, accompanied with dances and songs. The flesh is then cooked and eaten, and the bones collected and thrown into the nearest river, so that they shall not be polluted by being eaten by the dogs.

Sometimes in war time, a prisoner is sacrificed. He is placed on a horse whose tail and ears have been cropped by way of deriding the rider, and is thus taken to the place of execution. Here he dismounts, and is forced to dig a hole, into which he throws a number of sticks, calling each after the name of some celebrated warrior of his tribe. He is then made to fill up the hole, thus symbolically burying the fame of his countrymen, and as soon as he has done so, his brains are dashed out with a club, care being taken to inflict as little damage as possible on the skull.

As soon as he falls, the heart is torn from the breast and handed to the Toqui, who sucks a few drops of the blood, and passes it to his officers, who follow his example. The large bones of the arms and legs are made into flutes, the head is placed on a spear and carried round in triumph, and the skull is made into a drinking-cup to be used at the principal feasts. Such a sacrifice, however, is not to be considered as an act of worship, but merely as a mode of propitiating the manes of deceased warriors.

The similitude between the bird omens of the ancient Greeks and Romans and those of modern Araucanians has already been mentioned. There is another semi-religious practice which also recalls the customs of classic times, namely, the making of libations and offerings of food at every meal. When the Araucanian takes his broth or wine, he pours a few drops upon the ground as a thank offering to the higher powers, and with the same motive he scatters around a few morsels of food.

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The mode of burial differs slightly according to the locality and the tribe.

When a Mapuché chief dies, the body is exposed on an open bier for several days, during which time the friends and neighbors pay their respects and offer their condolence to the family. On the day of the funeral a procession is formed, led by a company of young men on horseback, who dash forward at full speed to the place of interment. After them the body, borne by the principal relatives, and behind them come the women, who wail aloud and fill the air with their cries of sorrow. Last of all comes a woman who scatters ashes on the ground, so that the deceased may not return by the path along which he was borne. The illustration No. 2, on page 1207, represents this part of a Mapuché funeral.

The body is then bound with the knees to the breast, and lowered into the grave, with the face toward the west, the direction of the Mapuché spirit-land. The saddle, bit, spurs, and stirrups of the deceased are laid by his side, together with some provisions for the journey, a few beads, and a piece of money, and the grave is then filled up. As, however, the horse accoutrements of a chief are of silver, and exceedingly valuable, they are represented by wooden copies, which are supposed to serve the purposes of the deceased as well as the more costly articles, which become the property of his successors.

At the head of the grave is planted the dead man’s lance, the steel head of which is replaced by a wooden imitation. It is also necessary that a horse should be provided for the dead chief, and this is done by sacrificing his favorite steed, and hanging its skin over the grave by means of a pole placed across two forked props. Mr. E. R. Smith shrewdly remarks that in all probability the deceased would be put off with a wooden horse to ride, were it not that the Mapuchés are exceedingly fond of horseflesh, and take the opportunity of holding a great banquet on the flesh of the slaughtered animal, the skin and spirit going to the share of the dead man.

Such ceremonies as these are only for a chief, a common man not being supposed to need a horse, and consequently being buried with slight and simple ceremonies. For the funerals of women the rites are of a similar character, the chief distinction being that, instead of the saddle and weapons, some cooking vessels, a distaff, and similar objects are laid in the grave.

Some travellers have asserted that when a powerful chief dies, his favorite wife is also killed and placed in the tomb with him. This statement is, however, very doubtful, and was flatly contradicted by every one of whom Mr. Smith inquired. The Mapuchés seem to have a vague notion that the dead are able to return to earth and watch over the living; and when the dark thunder-clouds lower over the distant Cordilleras, they imagine that the deceased warriors of their tribe are chasing away the invisible foes of their country, and utter loud shouts of encouragement to the supernatural warriors.

In some parts of the Mapuché territory the graves are surrounded with a rude fence of upright boards, from the midst of which rises the long quivering lance with its slight pennon fluttering in the wind. (See background of illustration).

The Huilyichés, however, have a much more elaborate mode of decorating the graves of their chiefs, resembling in some degree that which is employed by the New Zealanders. Figures supposed to represent the deceased chief and his wives are set round the grave, just as the New Zealanders plant their “tikis” round the graves of their friends. (See page 861.)

One such memorial, seen by Mr. Smith, had a very singular, not to say ludicrous, appearance. Each figure was cut out of a huge log of wood, some ten or twelve feet in height. In the middle stood the chief himself, wearing no clothing, but having a hat on his head and a sword in his hand. Round him were stationed his wives, equally without clothing, the great object of the artist being to leave no doubt which is the chief and which are his wives, without troubling himself as to details of drapery. Rude as these figures are, only very few natives can carve them, and these sculptors make a large income by the exercise of their skill. Each figure is purchased with a fat ox, or even at a higher price, according to its size and the amount of labor bestowed upon it, and no grandee can be considered as buried respectably unless the grave be decorated with a figure of the deceased.

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CXXVII. THE GRAN CHACO

APPEARANCE--WEAPONS--CHARACTER.

THE GRAN CHACO AND ITS INHABITANTS -- THEIR LOVE OF FREEDOM -- CONTRAST OF THE TWO RACES IN SOUTH AMERICA -- THE VARIOUS TRIBES IN THE COUNTRY -- APPEARANCE OF THE INHABITANTS -- ERADICATION OF THE EYEBROWS AND EYELASHES -- HAIR DRESSING -- COSTUME OF THE SEXES -- EQUESTRIAN HABITS -- THE NAKED MAN ON THE NAKED HORSE -- WEAPONS -- THE MACANA CLUB, AND MODE OF USING IT -- THE LONG SPEAR -- CURIOUS ARMOR -- THE FOOT-BOW -- ATTACKING A VILLAGE -- HUTS OF THE GRAN CHACO INDIANS -- CROSSING A RIVER -- CHARACTER OF THE PEOPLE.

To the east of the Araucanian territory, and extending to the Paraguay and Panama rivers, lies a tract of mountain country, of indeterminate northern and southern boundaries, called the Gran Chaco. This great district is inhabited by a series of tribes who deserve a short notice.

Not the least remarkable point in their history is the manner in which they have preserved the freedom of their own land, despite the attacks of various white nations. Both the Spaniards and the Portuguese have, at different times, seized on a few positions in the Gran Chaco, but have not been able to retain them except on the indefinite western frontier line. On the east, where the great Paraguay River forms the natural boundary, the native is left unmolested in his freedom.

In the eloquent words of Captain Mayne Reid: “On its eastern side, coinciding almost with a meridian of longitude, the Indian of the Gran Chaco does not roam; the well-settled provinces of Corrientes, and the dictatorial government of Paraguay, presenting a firmer front of resistance. But neither does the colonist of these countries think of crossing to the western bank of the boundary river to form an establishment there.

“He dares not even set his foot upon the Chaco. For a thousand miles, up and down, the two races, European and American, hold the opposite banks of this great stream. They gaze across at each other--the one from the portico of his-well-built mansion, or perhaps from the street of his town--the other standing by his humble ‘toldo,’ or mat-covered tent, more probably on the back of his half-wild horse, reined up for a moment on some projecting promontory that commands a view of the river. And thus have these two races gazed at each other for three centuries, with little other intercourse passing between them than that of a deadly hostility.”

As the territory of the Gran Chaco is very extensive, being about three times as large as that of Great Britain, and extends north and south through eleven degrees of latitude, it naturally follows that the tribes which inhabit it differ from each other in many details, those of the warm north and cold south being in many points strongly contrasted with each other. Still, there are many points of similarity, and these we will select in the following brief account of the Gran Chaco tribe, omitting, from want of space, those wherein they differ from each other.

In the first place, the aborigines of the Gran Chaco are of a much paler complexion than those of the more northern tribes, known from their color by the name of Red Men, and more nearly resemble the rich olive of the inhabitants of Southern Europe. The nose is rather aquiline, the mouth well formed, the cheek-bones high, and the eyes and hair jetty black. The latter is singularly abundant, and though coarse and without curl is smooth and glossy when properly dressed.

The men have but little beard, and the scanty hairs which grow upon the chin and face they completely eradicate, using for that purpose a pair of shells until they are rich enough to purchase iron tweezers. Even the eyebrows and lashes are pulled out, the natives saying that they only hinder the sight, and comparing those who wear them to the ostrich--i. e. the rhea, or American ostrich, which is plentiful in their country.

To an European, the loss of these appendages to the eyes has a very unsightly effect; but the native takes a very different view of the case, and looks upon a countenance wherein the eyebrows and lashes are permitted to grow much as a gentleman of George the Second’s time would have regarded a head which was decorated by its own hair, and a face from which the beard and moustache had not been removed.

The masculine mode of dressing the hair has some resemblance to that which is practised by the warlike tribes of Northern America. The hair is shaved from the forehead, as well as from a band extending behind the head from one ear to the other. The remainder is allowed to grow to its full length, and carefully cherished and tended.

The Gran Chaco Indians only use paint upon great occasions, when they decorate themselves as fantastically as any savage tribe can do; but, as a rule, their faces and bodies are allowed to retain their normal olive hue. Neither do the men use the tattoo, this being restricted to the women, who mark themselves with a variety of patterns upon their arms, cheeks, and breasts, each having a line of blue dots extending from the corner of each eye to the ears, and a pattern of some kind upon her forehead.

The dress of these people is very simple. In warm and fine weather, it consists merely of a piece of cotton or woollen fabric, woven in the brightest hues of red, white, and blue. It is little more than a mere strip of cloth, and in this respect the dress of the women scarcely differs from that of the men. In cold and stormy weather, both sexes wear a warm cloak made of the skin of the jaguar, or, if so valuable a material cannot be obtained, of that of the nutria, or South American otter. Earrings are worn by both sexes; but the hideous ornaments which so many savage tribes wear in their lips and noses are utterly unknown to them.

The Gran Chaco Indian is essentially a horseman, and no inhabitants of America have made more use of the horse than he has. He differs, however, from those which have been already mentioned in one important particular. He utterly despises the costly spurs, stirrups, and headstalls which have been described in the account of the Araucanians, and, almost naked himself, he rides upon an entirely naked horse. He uses no saddle, no stirrups, and no bit, guiding his steed by voice and touch, and not by the power of the iron curb. The only representative of a bridle is a slight rope of plaited hide passed round the lower jaw of the horse.

The weapons of the Gran Chaco Indian are very few. He carries the bolas and lasso, but cares little for them in war, preferring, as his most efficient weapon, his spear. This instrument is sometimes fifteen feet in length, and in the hands of a skilful rider, mounted upon a perfectly trained steed, is a most formidable instrument of war. The warrior uses his spear, not only for battle, but as a means for mounting his horse. He stands on the right hand of the animal, places the butt of the spear upon the ground, and, using the shaft as a leaping pole, swings himself upon the back of the horse with scarcely an effort.

A rather peculiar club is also used by these people. This weapon is called “macana,” and exists throughout a very large portion of Southern America. It seldom exceeds two feet in length, and in form somewhat resembles a square dice box, being smaller in the middle, and increasing in diameter to each end. It is used both as a missile, and as a hand weapon, and when used is held by the middle. The young warriors pride themselves on the force and accuracy with which they hurl this instrument, and during their leisure time vie with each other in throwing it at a mark. The specimen which is shown in the illustration was presented to me by H. Bernau, Esq., together with several other weapons and implements of South America.

Sometimes the macana is armed with a cylindrical piece of hard stone, which projects from one end like the blade of an axe. It is fastened into the wood by a very ingenious process. Having fixed upon a young branch which he thinks will make a good club, the Indian bores a hole in it, and hammers into the hole the stone cylinder which has been previously prepared. He then allows it to remain for two or three years, by which time the wood has grown over the stone, and become so firmly imbedded that it will break to pieces rather than be loosened by any amount of violence.

Another of these weapons in my collection is remarkable for the slight but elaborate carvings with which it is covered, leaving only a small space in the centre devoid of ornament. The patterns are scratched rather than cut, so that they cannot properly be seen unless the weapon is turned from side to side, so as to ensure the light falling properly upon it; but the extreme hardness of the wood makes them retain their integrity in spite of rough usage. The tree from which these clubs are made is one of those which are popularly called iron-wood, on account of the hardness and weight of the timber. It belongs to the guaiacums. The Spaniards call the tree by a name which signifies “axe-breaker.”

The strangest part of war as waged by these natives is, that when they fight with each other they adopt an elaborate system of defensive armor, while they discard everything of the kind when they match themselves against the fire-arms of the whites, knowing that the shield and costume which will guard them against the club and the spear are useless against a bullet.

The armor is of a most cumbersome description, and looks nearly as awkward as that which is worn by the soldiers of Begharmi. (See page 638.)

First of all, the warrior puts on a coat made from the skin of the jaguar, dressed so as to remain soft even after being wetted. Over this dress he wears a complete suit of armor, made from the thick and hard hide of the tapir. Not only the body armor, but the helmet and shield are made of this material, which is capable of resisting the stroke of the lance or the point of the arrow. It interferes, however, with the right management of the horse, and it is very doubtful whether its defensive powers compensate for its exceeding clumsiness. Still, it may have a moral effect upon the enemy; and there is no denying that it gives the warrior a more formidable appearance than he would possess if he rode without armor. To add to the ferocity of his aspect, he employs paint on these occasions, and with scarlet and black pigment makes himself absolutely hideous.

When he goes to attack a village inhabited by white men, he does so in a very ingenious manner. Usually he fights exclusively on horseback, being so admirable a rider that he can even stand on the withers of his horse when at full speed, and feeling himself out of his element when dismounted. But when he has to attack so formidable an enemy as the white man, he begins after a different fashion. He takes with him an enormous bow, far too strong to be drawn in the usual manner, and a number of long arrows. Dismounting at some distance from the village, he creeps to some spot within range of his arrows, and then prepares for action.

He begins by wrapping a quantity of cotton wool round the arrows just behind the head, and when he has treated them all in this way, he strikes a light and sets fire to the cotton wool on one of the arrows. Lying on his back, he holds the bow with the toes of both feet, and, laying the blazing arrow in its place, he is able to use both his hands to draw the powerful weapon. He shoots with a wonderfully good aim and great rapidity, so that when a number of Indians surround a village, and pour their fiery missiles into it from all directions, the houses are sure to take fire.

In the midst of the confusion caused by the flames that arise on all sides, the warriors leap on their horses, dash at the village, kill all whom they can reach, carry off as much plunder as possible, and then gallop back to their own districts, where no one dares to follow.

Retaliation is never feared, as the Gran Chaco Indians have no fixed habitation, and nothing that can be called even a village. The hut or rather tent of these people is a very simple affair. Two upright posts are driven firmly into the earth, and another is laid horizontally across them. Over the horizontal pole is hung a large mat, the ends of which are pegged to the ground, and the tent is then complete. The mat is made of the epidermis of young palm leaves. In order to prevent water from flooding the tent in rainy weather, a trench is dug around it. The only furniture is the hammock in which the inhabitant sleeps, and in fine weather, this is much more often slung between two palm trees than between the upright posts of the tent. In fact, the only use of the tent is as a shelter in rainy weather, the whole of the life being passed in the open air.

As may be imagined from this mode of life, the Gran Chaco Indian is essentially a rover, passing from one part of the country to another when game begins to be scarce in that district which he temporarily inhabits. Illustration No. 1, on the 1218th page shows the manner in which a community of these natives cross rivers. Swimming with perfect ease themselves, they merely with one hand guide their horses in the water without caring to get on their backs, while with the other hand they paddle themselves across the stream, or hold the spear with its light burden of ornaments.

The children and household goods are conveyed easily enough. Square boats or tubs made of bull’s hide are launched, and in them are placed the children, the puppies, of which there are always plenty, and the heavier goods, such as the kettles and cooking vessels. A rope is tied to the “pelota,” as this primitive boat is called, and the cargo is towed across the stream either by being attached to the tail of a horse, or held in the mouth of a good swimmer. The lighter articles, such as dress and ornaments, are fastened to the head of the spear, which is held upright, so as to keep them out of the water.

The dogs which have just been mentioned are extremely useful to the Gran Chaco Indians, who employ them in the chase. They give but little trouble to their masters, living for the most part in holes which they scratch in the ground, and feeding contentedly on the offal and scraps of food, which in an uncivilized community are more than scanty. Without the dogs the hunter could scarcely bring to bay the jaguar, the peccary, and similar animals, which are so annoyed by the perpetual and noisy attacks of the little curs that they stop in their flight in order to revenge themselves, and so give the hunter time to come up with them.

Although so essentially a warrior, and living much upon the proceeds of his plunder, the Gran Chaco Indian is in one respect far superior to the North American tribes. He does not torture the prisoners whom he takes in war, and the women and children he treats kindly, and adopts into his own tribe.

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CXXVIII. THE MUNDURUCÚS

MANUFACTURES--SOCIAL CUSTOMS.

POSITION AND NUMBER OF THE MUNDURUCÚ TRIBE -- THEIR GENERAL APPEARANCE -- MODE OF TATTOOING -- SKILL IN FEATHER WORKING -- FEATHER SCEPTRES AND APRONS -- HEAD PRESERVING -- THE TRIUMPHAL FEAST AND WARRIOR’S PRIDE -- TRAINING OF THE WARRIOR -- THE ORDEAL OF THE “GLOVES” -- INTELLIGENCE OF THE MUNDURUCÚS -- THE HEALING ART -- ENCHANTED CIGARS -- COLLECTING SARSAPARILLA -- THE GUARANA TEA -- THE PARICA SNUFF AND ITS OPERATION -- THE SNUFF TUBE -- COOKERY AMONG THE MUNDURUCÚS.

The largest, most warlike, and most powerful of the Amazonian tribes is that which is known by the name of MUNDURUCÚ.

Formerly, they used to inhabit the country on the southern bank of the great Amazon River; but since their long and valiant struggle with the Portuguese, they have moved considerably southward, having conceded to their new allies the more northern portion of their territory. Since that time, they have been on very good terms with Europeans, and a white man of any nation is sure to find a welcome when he comes among the Mundurucús. This feeling does not extend to the negroes and mulattoes, the dark skin arousing the anger of the Mundurucú as a white skin excites his friendship.

The color of the Mundurucús is warm coppery brown; their hair is thick, black, and straight, and with the men is cut short, except a long fringe, which is allowed to hang over the forehead. Their features are good, the lips being thin, the forehead tolerably high and arched, and the general contour of the face oval. Unfortunately, they disfigure themselves by a tattoo which is just as elaborate as that of the Marquesans, but without its elegance.

The Mundurucú seems to have no idea of a curved or scroll-like pattern, and contents himself with tracing straight lines and angles. One favorite plan is, to cover the whole body with a sort of trellis-like pattern, the lines crossing each other diagonally in some, and at right angles in others. One man, seen by Mr. Bates, had a large black patch on the centre of his face, covering the bottom of the nose and mouth, while his body was decorated with a blue checkered pattern, and his arms and legs with stripes.

At first it seems strange how the people can draw the lines with such regularity. It is managed, however, easily enough by means of the peculiar form of the tattooing instrument. This, instead of being very small and made of bone, is of considerable size, and is in fact a comb made of the sharp thorns of the pupunha palm set side by side. With this instrument there is no difficulty in producing straight lines, as all that the operator has to do is to lay the points of the comb on the skin, tap it sharply until a row of little holes is made, and then rub into the wounds the charcoal pigment.

Besides the tattoo, they use paint in profusion, and adorn themselves with lovely ornaments made of the feathers of the macaw, the toucan, and other native birds. There are other tribes which use similar decorations, specimens of which we shall presently see. They are perhaps the best savage feather workers in the world, displaying an amount of artistic taste which is really astonishing. Their feather sceptres are beautiful specimens of native art. They are about three feet in length and three inches in diameter, and are made by fastening on a wooden rod the beautiful white and yellow feathers from the breast of the toucan. At the top, the sceptre expands into a wide plume, composed of the long tail-feathers of the trogons, macaws, and other birds. In order to preserve these sceptres in their full beauty, they are kept in cylindrical bamboo cases until they are wanted. These decorations are only used on festival days, which are determined by the will of the Tushaúa or chief of the tribe. On these occasions the women prepare great quantities of “tarobá,” which is exactly the same as the mudai of the Araucanians, and they go on drinking, singing, and dancing until all the liquor is exhausted.

The illustration No. 7 on page 1231, gives some idea of the mode of feather working, and the kind of pattern employed by the Amazonian aborigines, though the plain black and white can give no idea of the gorgeous coloring and artistic arrangement of the hues. For this reason, I have been obliged to limit the illustrations of the elaborate feather work of these natives, and only to give a few examples, where form, as well as color, is exemplified.

The body of this apron is made of cotton strings, plaited into a netting, so close that it resembles a woven fabric, while they are allowed at the upper part to be loose, and parallel to each other. Beginning at the bottom of the apron, we have first a row of jetty black feathers, upon which is a tolerably broad band of bright yellow. The ground-work of the rest of the apron as far as the base strings is made of scarlet feathers, crossed by two narrow yellow bands, and the curious double pattern in the middle is yellow above and blue below. The sides and top are edged by a belt of black monkey fur.

Among the upper edge of the base strings are a number of the elytra or wing cases of the gorgeous Buprestis beetle. They are loosely strung in a row by their bases, and not only look splendid when the light of the sun shines on them, but rattle at every movement, so as to keep time to the steps of the dancers, for whom such ornaments are chiefly made. These wing cases are used also for children’s rattles.

* * * * *

Like many other warlike savages, the Mundurucús perpetuate the memory of valiant deeds by preserving a trophy of the slain enemy. Indeed, this is the only way in which it is possible to preserve the accounts of their valor, and the Mundurucús follow in this respect the example of the Dyaks, by cutting off and preserving the head of the dead man. When a Mundurucú has been fortunate enough to kill an enemy, he cuts off the head with his bamboo knife, removes the brain, soaks the whole head in a bitter vegetable oil, called “andiroba,” and dries it over a fire or in the sun. When it is quite dry, he puts false eyes into the empty orbits, combs, parts, and plaits the hair, and decorates it with brilliant feathers, and lastly passes a string through the tongue, by means of which it can be suspended to the beams of the malocca or council-house, where it remains except on festival days. When, however, the chief gives orders for a feast, the proud owner of the head arrays himself in his most magnificent suit of feathers, fetches his prize from the malocca, fixes it upon the point of his spear, and parades himself before his companions in all the glory of an acknowledged brave.

One of these preserved heads is shown on page 203, drawn from a specimen in the possession of A. Franks, Esq., of the British Museum. In order to show the ordinary kind of feather headdress which is worn by the Mundurucús, a portrait of a chief is also given on the same page, so that the contrast between the living and preserved head is well marked.

The value which a Mundurucú attaches to this trophy is simply inestimable. As none except acknowledged warriors are allowed to contend against the enemy, the fact of possessing a head proves that the owner has passed triumphantly through the dreadful ordeal of the gloves. It is very remarkable that we find two totally distinct races of men, the Malay and the Mongol, possessing exactly the same custom, and reckoning the possession of a head as the chief object in life.

It is quite impossible that the Dyak of Borneo and the Mundurucú of Central Southern America could have been geographically connected, and we must infer that the custom took its rise from the love of approbation inherent in human nature. In all countries, whether civilized or not, renown as a warrior is one of the chief objects of ambition. In civilized countries, where a literature exists, this renown is spread and conserved by means of the pen; but in uncivilized lands, some tangible proof of success in war must be required. In this head the necessary proof is obtained, for its existence shows that the owner has killed some man or other, and the form or absence of the tattoo is a proof that the slain man was an enemy and not a friend.

The successful warriors are so proud of their heads that they will often remove them temporarily from the malocca, and place them on the fence which surrounds their crops, so that the women, who are working in the field, may be cheered by the sight of their relative’s trophies. Of late years, either this custom has fallen into abeyance, or the people are unwilling to exhibit their trophies to a white man, for Mr. Bates, who spent so much time with them, never even saw a preserved head, or could hear of one being used.

Like many other natives, the Mundurucús have to pass through a horribly painful ordeal before they can be admitted into the rank of men. There is a strange, weird-like character about the whole proceeding.

The reader must know that South America possesses a great number of ants, many of which sting most horribly. There is, for example, the muniri ant, a great black insect, as large as a wasp and with as venomous a sting. Then there is the fire ant, whose bite is just like a redhot needle piercing the flesh, together with many others. These ants are made the instruments by which the courage of the lad is tested.

On the appointed day, the candidate for manhood and the privilege of a warrior, goes to the council-house, accompanied by his friends, who sing and beat drums to encourage him. The old men then proceed to the test. They take two bamboo tubes, closed at one end and open at the other, and place in each tube or “glove” a number of the fiercest ants of the country. Into these tubes the wretched lad thrusts his arms, and has them tied, so that they cannot fall off. The drummers and singers then strike up, and the candidate joins in the song.

Accompanied by the band and his friends, he is taken round the village, and made to execute a dance and a song in front of every house, the least symptom of suffering being fatal to his admission among the men. In spite of the agony which he endures--an agony which increases continually as the venom from the stings circulates through his frame--the lad sings and dances as if he were doing so from sheer joy, and so makes the round of the village. At last he comes in front of the chief’s tent, where he sings his song for the last time, and is admitted by acclamation to be a man. His friends crowd round to offer their congratulations, but he dashes through them all, tears off the gloves of torture, and plunges into the nearest stream, to cool his throbbing arms.

This fearful test of manhood, called “The glove dance,” is represented on page 1218.

The Mundurucús seem to be an intelligent race of savages, as may be seen from Mr. Bates’s account of the interest which they displayed in a book of illustrations.

“To amuse the Tushaúa, I fetched from the canoe the two volumes of Knight’s ‘Pictorial Museum of Animated Nature.’ The engravings quite took his fancy, and he called his wives, of whom, as I afterward heard from Aracú, he had three or four, to look at them: one of them was a handsome girl, decorated with necklace and bracelets of blue beads. In a short time others left their work, and I then had a crowd of women and children around me, who all displayed unusual curiosity for Indians.

“It was no light task to go through the whole of the illustrations, but they would not allow me to miss a page, making me turn back when I tried to skip. The pictures of the elephants, camels, orang-outangs, and tigers seemed most to astonish them, but they were interested in almost everything, down even to the shells and insects. They recognized the portraits of the most striking birds and mammals which are found in their own country; the jaguar, howling monkey, parrots, trogons, and toucans.

“The elephant was settled to be a large kind of tapir; but they made but few remarks, and those in the Mundurucú language, of which I understood only two or three words. Their way of expressing surprise was a clicking sound made with the teeth, similar to the one we ourselves use, or a subdued exclamation, Hm! Hm!

“Before I finished, from fifty to sixty had assembled; there was no pushing, or rudeness, the grown-up women letting the young girls and children stand before them, and all behaved in the most quiet and orderly manner possible.”

* * * * *

Like other savage tribes the Mundurucús place great faith in their medicine men, or “pajes,” as they are termed. These men are supposed to exercise a power over evil spirits, especially those which cause sickness, and which take the visible form of a worm or some such creature.

When a Mundurucú is ill, he sends for the paje, who goes through the gesticulations common to all the tribe of medicine men, until he has fixed upon some spot wherein the evil spirit has located itself. He then makes a huge cigar, by wrapping tobacco in folds of tanari, i. e. the inner bark of a tree, which is separated into layers and then beaten out like the bark cloth of Polynesia. Several trees, especially the monkey-root tree (Lecythis ollaria), furnish the tanari, the best being able to furnish a hundred layers from one piece of bark.

The smoke from the cigar is blown for some time upon the seat of the malady, and after a while the paje applies his lips to the spot, and sucks violently, producing out of his mouth the worm which has done the mischief. On one occasion, when a paje had operated on a child for a headache, a white man contrived to get possession of the “worm,” which turned out to be nothing but a long white air-root of some plant.

These people have, however, some genuine medicines. In the first place, they know the use of sarsaparilla root, and gather it in large quantities for the market. The root, or rather the rhizome, of a species of Smilax is the well-known sarsaparilla of commerce.

The natives collect it during the rainy season, when the roots can be easily torn out of the wet earth. After washing the roots carefully, the gatherers store them under shelter until they are quite dry, and then make them up into bundles of uniform size, for the convenience of packing. These bundles are rather more than three feet in length, and about five inches in diameter. They are tied up very tightly with the sipo, a kind of creeper, and sold to the traders.

Another medicine known to them is the guarana. It is made from the seeds of a climbing plant belonging to the genus Paullinia. The seeds are roasted in their envelopes, and then taken out and pounded between two stones. The powder is mixed with water so as to form a stiff paste, which is moulded into squares and left to dry. When used, the vegetable brick is scraped into water, about a teaspoonful going to the pint, and the medicine is complete. It has a stimulating effect on the system. Like strong tea, it repels sleep, but is so valuable in the intermittent fever of the country that in the Brazilian settlements it obtains a very high price.

There is another very remarkable medicine, which, though not used by the pure Mundurucú tribe, is in great favor with the Cuparis, a sub-tribe of the same nation. This is a sort of snuff, called paricá, which is prepared and used after the following manner. The seeds of a species of ingá (a plant belonging to the Leguminous Order) are dried in the sun, pounded in wooden mortars, and the dust put into bamboo tubes.

When the people determine to have a bout of snuff taking, they assemble together and drink various fermented liquors until they are half intoxicated. They then separate into pairs, each having a hollow reed filled with the paricá snuff. After dancing about for some time, they blow the snuff into the nostrils of their partners so as to make it produce its full effect.

The action of the paricá is very singular. Sometimes it is so violent, that the taker drops on the ground as if shot, and lies insensible for some time. On those who are more used to it the effect is different. It causes for a time the highest excitement, driving off the heaviness of intoxication, and imparting a lightness and exhilaration of spirits, causing the taker to dance and sing as if mad, which indeed he is for a time. The effect soon subsides, and the men drink themselves anew into intoxication.

The Muras, a quarrelsome and savage tribe, with whom the Mundurucús are at perpetual feud, are the most confirmed paricá takers. The Mauhés, a neighboring tribe, use it as a means of repelling ague in the months between the wet and dry seasons, when miasma always abounds.

They keep the powder in the state of dried paste, and when they wish to use it, scrape it into a flat shell, spreading it very carefully with a little brush made from the hair of the great ant-eater. They then produce the snuff-taking apparatus. This is made of two eagle quills tied side by side for part of their length, and diverging at one end to such a distance from each other that the extremities will go easily into the possessor’s nostrils. The shape of the instrument is very much like that of the letter Y.

Inserting the diverging ends into his nostrils, the Mauhé places the other end on the powder, and draws it through the quills, the end travelling over the shell until every particle of the powder has been taken. Sometimes the snuff taker employs, instead of the quills, the bone of a plover’s leg. This instrument, however, is very rare, and cannot easily be procured, the possessor esteeming it to be a most valuable piece of property. It is remarkable that the paricá, under different names, is used in places a thousand miles apart.

The cookery of the Mundurucús is very simple. They make cassava bread and tapioca, after a fashion which will be presently described, and feed on yams, plantains, and similar vegetables. Animal food is obtained by hunting, and chiefly consists of the monkeys with which the South American forests abound. When a monkey is to be eaten, it is cooked in one of two ways. Should there be time, a large fire is made and allowed to burn nearly down, so that there is little or no smoke. Over the red embers a number of green sticks are laid parallel to each other, just like the bars of a gridiron, and on these bars the monkey is placed just as it is killed, the skin never being removed, and the interior seldom cleaned.

There is even a simpler plan than this, which is employed when the Mundurucú has no time to build a large fire. He makes up as large a fire as he can manage, impales the monkey on a stick sharpened at each end, and fixes the stick diagonally in the ground, so that the body of the monkey hangs over the fire, just as a soldier cooks or rather burns his rations by impaling the piece of meat on his ramrod. Very little cooking is required by these people, who are content if the skin is well calcined and the flesh not quite raw.

The Mundurucú can also procure fruits that are capable of preservation, so that he need be in no fear as to suffering from lack of provisions. The chief fruits are the “nuts” of the Lecythis and the Bertholetia. The fruit of the former tree is popularly known as “monkey-cup,” because the hard envelope which encloses the seeds has a movable lid, that falls off when the fruit is ripe, and enables the monkeys to draw the seeds out of their case.

The fruit of the Bertholetia is familiarly known as the Brazil nut. A number of these nuts are enclosed within a very thick and hard pericarp, which has no lid, though there is a little hole at the top through which the seeds can be seen. When the fruit is ripe, it falls to the ground with such force that if it were to strike a man on the head it would instantly kill him. One of these fruits in my collection measures exactly a foot in circumference, and, though very dry, weighs nine ounces. The reader may imagine the force with which such a fruit would fall from the height of a hundred feet or so.

To guard themselves against accidents, the Mundurucús always wear thick wooden caps when they go after the Brazil nuts, and are careful to walk very upright, so as not to be struck on the back or the nape of the neck.

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CXXIX. THE TRIBES OF GUIANA

WEAPONS.

CHANGES OF LANGUAGE -- INVERSION OF WORDS AND SENTENCES -- THE TALKING PARROT -- THE FIVE CHIEF TRIBES OF GUIANA -- PECULIARITY OF CLIMATE, AND CONSEQUENT EFFECT ON VEGETABLE AND ANIMAL LIFE -- THE HAMMOCK OF GUIANA -- THE WEAPONS PECULIAR TO THE COUNTRY -- THE TWO KINDS OF BLOW GUN -- THE ZARABATANA, AND MODE OF CONSTRUCTION -- WEIGHT OF THE WEAPON -- THE PUCUNA -- ITS DOUBLE TUBE -- THE OURAH AND SAMOURAH -- THE KURUMANNI WAX -- THE INGENIOUS FORE AND BACK SIGHTS -- THE BLOW GUN ARROWS -- THEIR CONSTRUCTION -- MODE OF SHARPENING -- THE PIRAI FISH -- INGENIOUS MODE OF PACKING THE ARROWS -- MODE OF PROPELLING THE ARROWS -- THE WINGED ARROW -- THE QUIVER AND COTTON BASKET.

It is evident that the innumerable tribes which inhabit the neighborhood of the great Amazon River are members of the same family, differing more in language than in appearance or habits. It is natural that families when they become large should separate themselves, and so become founders of fresh tribes, which spread themselves over the country, settling down in those spots which suit them best. They retain the general character of their manners and customs, but, owing to the total want of a literature, their language is continually changing.

This alteration in their language is also due to the native fondness for inverting words and sentences during their conversation with each other, a custom which bears some resemblance to that of punning among ourselves. When these inverted words happen to please the people’s fancy, they are retained in the language, so that in a few years after a family has separated itself from the parent tribe the two dialects will have receded so far from each other that the people can hardly understand each other.

To the philologist this fluctuation of language would be exceedingly interesting, but, as we are concerned with manners and customs rather than with language, we will pass northward and eastward to Guiana. Sir R. Schomburgk mentions a fact which is a singular corroboration of the rapidity with which language changes among these tribes. There was a parrot living in 1800, which spoke well, but many of whose words could not be understood, because it spoke the language of the Atures, a tribe which had passed entirely out of recollection after it had been mastered by the warlike Caribs.

This comparatively small country is especially interesting to ethnologists, in consequence of the perfect manner in which the natives have guarded their individuality. Evidently sprung from one source, they have settled down in different districts and, though alike in color and general conformation, are as widely different in language, and often in manners, as if they belonged to separate quarters of the world.

Five principal nations inhabit Guiana, and are subdivided into a vast number of small tribes. These are the Macoushies, the Arawâks, the Accawaios, the Caribs, and the Waraus. The two first of these will be taken as representatives of the tribes in Guiana, though the others will be mentioned in cases where they present any marks of difference.

Taking broadly the chief points of distinction between these tribes, we may simply define them as follows.

The Macoushies are the largest and most ingenious tribe. They excel in the manufacture of the terrible wourali poison, which they exchange for canoes and other necessaries from other tribes. They also make the best blow guns. Their huts are closed, and conical like sugar loaves. Their number is somewhere about three thousand.

The Arawâks are rather taller than the Macoushies, being, on an average, five feet six inches in height. Their faces are marked with the tattoo, and, as they are much brought into contact with white men, they approach civilization nearer than do the other tribes.

The Accawaios and Caribs wear no clothing except on occasions of ceremony. The former are distinguished by a wooden ornament in the cartilage of the nose, and the latter by wearing ornaments in the under lip, and by a lump of annatto fastened to the hair of the forehead. The Waraus are darker than the others, and are acknowledged to be the best canoe makers in Guiana. Some of their vessels will carry ninety or a hundred men, and they sell these canoes to the Macoushies for the excellent wourali poison for which that tribe is celebrated.

* * * * *

Owing to the peculiarities of the climate, all these tribes have many customs in common. The climate is a very remarkable one, being exceedingly hot and exceedingly wet. The heat is owing to the geographical position of Guiana, which is close to the equator, and the wet is due to the trade winds and the configuration of the country. Blowing across the Atlantic they absorb a vast quantity of moisture from the ocean, and discharge the greater portion of it before they can reach any distance inland, the moisture being condensed by the secondary mountain chains, which are from five to seven thousand feet in height.

In consequence of this perpetual heat acting on perpetual moisture, vegetation flourishes with a luxuriousness scarcely to be seen in any other part of the world; and so completely is the ground covered with tree and bush, that many trees are unable to find a habitation upon the ground, and are forced to live upon each other. Thus, upon a lofty mora tree a fig tree will grow, and upon the fig an enormous creeper will fasten itself, its long shoots dangling loosely from the enormous height at which they grow, or drooping in graceful and flower-clad festoons from one tree to another. Such a forest as this is often ankle-deep in water for miles together, and the vegetation is so thick that the only way of passing through the tangled mass of vegetation is to cut a path with the axe. And even then, after a week or two has elapsed, the path will have vanished, so rapid is the growth of vegetable life.

It follows from this description that the animals which inhabit Guiana must be chiefly of two kinds, those which inhabit the trees and those which live in the water. Accordingly, we find that the country is tenanted by a great variety of the monkey tribe, that the arboreal puma and jaguar take the place of the terrestrial lion and tiger, and that the aquatic capybara and tapir flourish where beasts of equal size would perish if they had to live on the land. Birds of the most lovely plumage abound in Guiana, which is also a very paradise of insects.

It is evident that any human beings that live in such a country as this must have many characteristics in common. They need no clothes, no houses, and the woods supply them with food without the trouble of cultivation, so that their chief incentives to labor are taken away. Consequently, they may be called an idle people, though the indolence is rather apparent than real. They will work as long as there is a necessity for it; but, as a man can support existence without doing a real day’s work in his life, it is evident that the necessity for work does not often arise.

One habit which they have in common is that of sleeping in the hammock. This article is made by the natives from various vegetable fibres, and is woven in different ways, according to the character of the tribe which makes it. Some of these are made simply by laying a number of strings parallel to each other, and knotting others across at right angles; but the best have no knots at all, the strings interlacing with each other diagonally, so as to yield in every direction to the body of the occupier. When a native has made a particularly fine specimen, he adorns it with feathers, and other brilliantly colored objects.

These hammocks are of various sizes, some being small and used for children, and others large enough to contain an entire family. The specimen in my collection will hold two Guianan natives, but not two Englishmen. It is rather more than sixteen feet in length, and six feet in width.

The hammock is exactly adapted to the wants of the native. It is so light that he can roll it up and tie it round his body, so as to carry it on a journey; so slight in texture as to keep him cool when lying in it; and so yielding in its structure that the bare cords do not hurt his naked skin. On a journey he always carries his hammock with him, and if he wants to rest, he does not sit down, but slings the hammock between two trees and lies in it. Several purposes are fulfilled by this arrangement. In the first place, the ground is usually wet, so that the man is kept dry in the hammock; in the next place, he is safe from the snakes and other unpleasant reptiles that swarm in the forests; and lastly, he would always rather lie down than sit.

Another point which they have in common is the mode in which they destroy the animals on which they live. The reader will remember that the density of the jungle is so great, that if an animal were able, after it was wounded, to run for a hundred yards or so, or a bird to fly the same distance, it would be lost in the bush without the chance of recovery. It is evident, therefore, that the successful hunter must possess some means of destroying motion, if not life, almost instantaneously, and this he finds in the terrible wourali poison, which has the effect of causing instant stupor when it mixes with the blood. The mode of manufacturing this poison will presently be described, and at present it is sufficient to say that nearly all the missiles used by the Guianan aborigines, whether propelled by the bow or by the breath, are armed with this poison.

* * * * *

We will first take those missiles which are propelled by the breath, and examine the instrument through which they are sent. In principle this is exactly like the sumpitan of Borneo, described on page 1119, but the mode of construction is different, and in the best specimens the Guianan work is far superior to that of Borneo.

Of this singular weapon there are several varieties, the two principal of which are shown over the title “Blow guns” on the 1225th page, both being taken from specimens in my possession. On the right is the zarabatana. This is found throughout a very large tract of country southward of Guiana, when it takes a somewhat modified and improved form.

It is made of two separate pieces of wood, in each of which is cut a semicircular groove, so that when they are placed in contact with each other they form a long wooden rod, pierced with a circular bore. As the natives use nothing but the incisor teeth of rodent animals by way of tools, it may be seen that the labor of making one of these instruments is very great. The bore being carefully smoothed, the two halves are laid together, and bound by means of long, flat strips of jacitara wood wound spirally round them.

To the lower end of the weapon is fastened a large mouthpiece, with a conical opening like the mouthpiece of a trumpet, so as to collect the breath for the propulsion of the arrow. A quantity of cement, composed of a black wax made by a wild bee mixed with a pitchy substance obtained from several trees, is then rubbed over the whole weapon, which is considered complete. The zarabatana is exceedingly heavy, and requires not only a strong but a practised arm to hold it steady. The specimen in my collection, which is several feet in length, weighs three pounds twelve ounces.

A far superior weapon, called the “pucuna,” larger, lighter, and more easily handled, is made by the natives of many parts of Guiana, that used by the Macoushie tribe being the best. The specimen which is shown on the left of the zarabatana was brought from Guiana by the late Mr. Waterton, who presented it to me shortly before the accident which caused his death.

The weapon in question (called pucuna) is double, being made of two portions, called ourah and samourah. The essential portion of the blow gun is the ourah. This is a singular reed (Arundinaria Schomburgkii), which, as far as is known, only grows on the sandstone ridge of the Upper Orinoco between the rivers Ventuari, Paramu, and Mavaca. Like the bamboo, it grows in clusters, and, though not exceeding half an inch in diameter, the first fourteen or sixteen feet are without a knot. From this point spread the long, slender branches, measuring from thirty to forty feet in length, and waving in graceful curves when moved by the wind.

The portion used for the blowpipe is the first joint, which is uniform in diameter throughout, and is naturally polished within. But it is so thin, the walls being not twice the thickness of a playing card, that it would be too fragile to be used without some protection. Accordingly, the native has recourse to a sort of palm, called by him samourah, its scientific title being Ireartia setigera.

This is chosen of a proper size, cut down, and steeped in water, for the purpose of extracting the pulp which fills the interior. When it is quite dry, the reed is inserted into this tube, the native gunmaker having a wonderful talent in getting the slender reed exactly in the centre of the palm-stem, and fixing it in its place with the black wax already mentioned. This wax is called kurumanni by the Macoushies, and is used by them as freely as is the “black-boy” wax by the Australian aborigines. The samourah is then scraped down to the proper thickness, well polished, and the weapon is ready for the accessories which complete it.

One end is chosen to serve as a mouthpiece, and is bound with a string made of silk-grass and the other is tipped with the half of the acuero nut, which is very hard and prevents the end of the weapon from being injured by accidental blows against a tree or the ground. This acuero seed acts as a fore-sight, by which the native hunter can direct his weapon; but, in order to secure a more certain aim, he adds a singularly ingenious back-sight. Taking a lump of kurumanni wax, he presses it on the blowpipe about eighteen inches from the mouthpiece, and by means of the wax fixes upon the tube the two lower incisor teeth of the acouchi, one of the cavies.

Figure 1 shows the weapon itself, and fig. 2 the front view of the tip, guarded with its ring of acuero seed, which forms the fore-sight. Fig. 3 gives an enlarged representation of the back-sight, made of the teeth of the acouchi (Dasyprocta Acouchi) fixed in their place by the black kurumanni wax. Fig. 4 is a section taken through the middle of the back-sight, so as to show the way in which the teeth project from the shaft. Fig. 5 is a front view of the butt, showing the way in which the ourah reed is enclosed within the samourah palm.

Such a weapon as this is exceedingly light and easy to handle, presenting a strong contrast to the heavy and cumbrous zarabatana. The weight of the one in my collection barely exceeds a pound and a half, although it is eleven feet in length. It is held in rather a curious manner. The left hand is turned with the palm upward, and the elbow against the hip. The hand then grasps the blow gun within a hands-breadth of the mouthpiece, and the right hand seizes it, palm downward, in the space left by the other hand. In fact, this mode of holding the weapon is exactly similar in principle to that which is employed by riflemen. The blowpipe is then raised, not by the arms, but by bending back the body; and it is astonishing to see how steady it can be held for a lengthened time--a steadiness which can never be gained if it be held by stretching out the right arm and grasping it at some distance from the mouth.

The natives are most careful respecting the straightness of their blow guns, and never allow them to lean against anything lest they should be warped. When they go hunting, they carry the blow gun upright, like a soldier, “shouldering arms,” and when they return to their huts, they suspend the weapon by a loop to the top of the house. Mr. Waterton repeatedly draws attention to this point in his “Wanderings,” and when he presented me with the pucuna which he brought from Guiana, the gift was accompanied by a condition that it should never be allowed to lean against a wall, but should be either laid on the ground or suspended by its loop.

* * * * *

We now come to the arrows which are propelled through the pucuna. They very much resemble in shape and size those which are employed by the Dyaks, but, instead of being made to fit the bore of the pucuna by a piece of pith or soft wood at the butt, a small quantity of wild cotton, taken from the Bombax ceiba, is wound upon it, and fastened with a fibre of silk grass. Cultivated cotton is too heavy to serve the purpose, and nothing answers so well as the yellow, stout-fibred cotton of the Bombax. Very great art is required in putting on the cotton properly. It must exactly fit the bore, be perfectly regular, so as not to disturb the accuracy of the flight, and must taper gradually in front, so as to offer the least possible resistance to the air. See illustration No. 1, on the next page.

The shaft of the arrow is made of the leaf ribs of the coucourite palm, a species of areca. It is about ten inches in length, no thicker than a crow quill, and at one end is brought to a point as sharp as a needle by scraping it between the teeth of the pirai fish (Serrasalmus piraya). The teeth of this fish are flat, pointed, and double-edged, much like those of the shark--and, indeed, the pirai is a veritable fresh-water shark, biting whole mouthfuls from the bodies of animals that enter the water, and even attacking the alligator itself--and when the arrow is drawn between them, delicate shavings are taken off, just as is the case with the double knife-sharpeners of the present day. One half of a pirai jaw is always suspended to the quiver of a Macoushie.

Of the poison with which the arrow is armed we will presently treat: we are now only concerned with the manufacture of the weapon. In order to save space, the cotton is not put upon the arrows until just before they are wanted, six or seven finished arrows being left in the quiver for immediate use, and the rest tied in a bundle until needed. The formation of this bundle is singularly ingenious, the native being able to remove any of the arrows without untying it, and to add as many as he likes without disturbing those which already are tied together.

The native takes a rod of hard wood, a little longer than the arrows, and at one end he fixes a little wheel, rather more than two inches in diameter. At two inches from the wheel, and the same distance from the end of the rod, two holes are bored, through each of which are passed two strings made of cotton. When the man wishes to tie up a number of arrows, he lays them successively between the strings, which he twists between each arrow. When the last arrow is laid in its place, the whole are kept firm by a couple of sliding knots, which can be slipped along the strings.

Illustration No. 7 on the following page, will explain the method of stringing the arrows better than can be done by words alone. Two of the arrows are shown as prepared for use, the cotton being on their butts and the poison on their tips. A number more are shown as they appear on the double strings, poisoned, but without the cotton. A hunter will sometimes have as many as five hundred arrows at once upon a string.

In order to keep the weapons compact, so that they can be easily slipped into the quiver, they are rolled round the little rod, and bound firmly together in a cylindrical form, the poisoned points being directed to the wheel, of which the reader will now see the use. It serves as a sort of shield to the hand, so that when the hunter wishes to take the arrows out of the quiver, he can do so without the least danger; and when he desires to remove some arrows to be mounted with cotton, he can push them through the spokes of the wheel, and take them out without having to untie the bundle. See illustration No. 6.

When properly made and mounted, these arrows can be propelled with wonderful force. I have sent one for a distance of a hundred yards, and the natives can propel them to a still greater distance. There is a certain art in using the pucuna, the arrow not being urged by a lengthened breath, but by collecting all the air that the lungs will hold, and giving a short expiration, as if the object were to empty the lungs at one puff. The force comes entirely from the lungs, the cheeks having nothing to do with it. When an arrow is rightly propelled, it flies from the tube with a slight pop, like that which is produced by quickly drawing the cork of a small bottle. It is quite invisible for some little time, so rapid is the motion; and even when fitted with white instead of yellow cotton the eye can scarcely follow its course.

Such an instrument as this is simply invaluable for the purposes to which it is devoted. It is intended to be used almost exclusively for killing birds and small monkeys, both of which creatures live on trees. Now, as the trees of Guiana run to an enormous height, some of them attaining at least a hundred feet before they throw out a branch, it will be seen that the birds are beyond the reach of shot-guns. The foliage is so thick that it does not permit more than one or two shots to reach the bird, and the height is so great that, even if they did strike, they would produce but little effect. But the pucuna can throw an arrow higher than a gun can propel a shot, and if the needle-like point enters any part of the bird the effect is fatal.

There is another advantage which the pucuna possesses over fire-arms. The report of the gun frightens away every bird within sound, whereas the pucuna is practically noiseless. The slight “pop” with which the arrow is expelled does not alarm the birds, and an expert hunter can kill twenty or thirty birds from one tree without alarming the others. The pucuna is particularly useful in the chase of the toucan. The feathers of this bird are much used in the manufacture of the beautiful gala dresses which the natives wear on grand occasions, and are much prized by them. Now, the toucan has a way of sitting on the topmost boughs of the tallest trees, and were it not for the deadly arrow of his pucuna, the native could seldom obtain a specimen.

Just before the arrow is put into the blowgun, the hunter places it between two of the pirai-teeth already mentioned, and turns it round between his fingers. He thus cuts it through just above the poisoned portion, so as to leave a mere thread of wood attaching the head to the shaft. If, therefore, the bird or monkey, on feeling the smart, should seize the arrow and withdraw it, the poisoned head snaps off and is left in the wound.

In some parts of the country a very ingenious form of arrow is used. Instead of being made to fit the bore by means of cotton tied on the butt, a flat piece of bark is twisted round the arrow so as to cause it to terminate in a hollow cone. A larger piece of the same material is fixed along the shaft of the arrow, and slightly twisted so as to cause it to revolve when projected through the air. The arrow is tipped with a slight iron blade, instead of being merely sharpened wood. (See illustration No. 2.) This form of hollow base is admirably adapted for its purpose, and has been copied by Messrs. Lang, the well-known gunmakers of Cockspur Street, in their blow gun darts for killing small birds and animals without noise.

Next comes the quiver in which the arrows are kept. This is shown in illustration No. 4, on page 1225. The framework of the quiver is made of the ittiritti-reed, and the bottom is closed by a circular plate of wood. In order to keep the poisoned arrows from the damp, which would effectually spoil them, the whole of the quiver is covered with a thick coat of kurumanni wax, which is pressed firmly into the interstices of the wicker-work, and into the junction between the bottom and the sides of the quiver.

Lest the rough basketwork should injure the delicate arrows, the quiver is lined with beautifully made mat-work, of much finer material, and quite smooth to the hand. The cover is made of a piece of skin, sometimes of the tapir, but mostly of the peccary. While fresh and wet it is moulded over a wooden block of the proper size, just as hatters mould their felt into its form. The hairy side is kept inward, and when it is pressed on the top of the quiver, and twisted with a turn of the hand, it holds itself firmly in its place. When the cover is on the quiver, no water can enter, and even if the hunter were to drop it into the river, the arrows would be preserved quite dry in their floating receptacle.

Before the kurumanni wax which covers the quiver is quite dry, a flat plaited belt made of silk grass is secured to it by means of a long string, which encircles the quiver several times. In this cincture is also secured by strings a coil of silk-grass, from, which can be drawn the fibres by which the cotton is attached to the arrow, together with the half jaw-bone of the pirai, with which the arrows are sharpened. In my specimen this jaw-bone is two inches in length.

The last article which completes the equipment of the bird hunter is the basket of wild cotton. This, as may be seen from illustration No. 3, has a narrow neck, and bulging body; so that the cotton does not fall out of the basket, though carried with the opening downward. The quantity which it will hold is astonishing. From one of them Mr. Waterton took handful after handful until a large heap was on the table, just as a conjuror takes vast quantities of feathers out of an apparently empty hat.

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CXXX. THE TRIBES OF GUIANA--Continued

WEAPONS--Concluded.

EFFECT OF THE WOURALI -- DEATH OF THE AI -- THE LARGER ARROWS -- TUFTED ARROWS -- A SINGULAR QUIVER -- ARRANGEMENT OF THE MOVABLE HEAD -- QUIVER FOR THE HEADS -- FATE OF THE WOUNDED INDIAN -- HOW THE ARROWS ARE FEATHERED -- THE NATIVE BOW -- TURTLE ARROWS -- MANUFACTURE OF THE WOURALI -- THE QUAKE AND ITS USES -- THE WOURALI VINE, AND OTHER VEGETABLE CONSTITUENTS -- THE HYARRI POISON, AND ITS USES -- ANTS AND SNAKE FANGS -- BOILING THE WOURALI -- EFFECTS OF THE PROCESS ON THE MAKER -- SELF-POISONED ARROWS -- VARIOUS ARROW HEADS OF GUIANA -- THE WHISTLING ARROW.

The effect of the poison is instantaneous, provided that it be of good quality and kept dry. There are many varieties of the wourali, but the best, which is made by the Macoushies, is so powerful that one of the tiny arrows brought by Mr. Waterton from Guiana killed a hedgehog at once, though fifty years had elapsed since the poison was made. Death was not instantaneous, for the animal, which was very slightly wounded in the hind leg, breathed for some seconds; but the hedgehog was quite insensible, and, as soon as it had been pricked by the dart, it allowed me to lay it on its back, and place my finger on the ball of its eye, without shrinking.

Many experiments have been made in England with the wourali poison, most of which have tended to prove that its power has been exaggerated, and that a man could not be killed by the small quantity that could be conveyed into a wound on the point of an arrow. I feel certain, however, that in such cases either the poison has not been of good quality, or that it has been carelessly kept, and allowed to become damp, in which case it loses the greater part of its strength. It is very difficult to procure the strongest wourali poison from the natives, who are very unwilling to part with it, and will always try to substitute an inferior kind. The only mode of procuring the best wourali is to do as Mr. Waterton did, i. e. live among them, and induce them to part with the little wourali-pots from which they have poisoned their own arrows. Moreover, he must imitate their example in keeping the poison in a perfectly dry place. The natives are so careful on this point that they frequently remove the covers of their poison pots and put them near the fire.

There is no mistake about the potency of such poison as this. Its effect upon a hedgehog has already been mentioned, but Mr. Waterton tried it on several animals. For example, he had an Ai sloth that he wanted to kill painlessly, and without damaging the skin. How he did it is best told in his own words:--

“Of all animals, not even the toad and the tortoise excepted, this poor animal is the most tenacious of life. It exists long after it has received wounds which would have destroyed any other animal, and it may be said, on seeing a mortally wounded sloth, that life disputes with death every inch of flesh in its body.

“The Ai was wounded in the leg, and put down upon the floor, almost two feet from the table. It contrived to reach the leg of the table, and fastened itself upon it as if wishful to ascend. But this was its last advancing step; life was ebbing fast, though imperceptibly; nor could this singular production of nature, which has been formed of a texture to resist death in a thousand shapes, make any stand against the wourali.

“First one fore-leg let go its hold, and dropped down motionless by its side; the other gradually did the same. The fore-legs having now lost their strength, the sloth slowly doubled its body, and placed its head betwixt its hind-legs, which still adhered to the table; but when the poison had affected these also, it sank to the ground, but sank so gently that you could not distinguish the movement from an ordinary motion; and had you been ignorant that it was wounded with a poisoned arrow, you would never have suspected that it was dying. Its mouth was shut, nor had any froth or saliva collected there.

“There was no subsultus tendinum, nor any visible alteration in its breathing. During the tenth minute from the time it was wounded it stirred, and that was all; and the minute after life’s last spark went out. From the time the poison began to operate, you would have conjectured that sleep was overpowering it, and you would have exclaimed--

‘Pressitque jacentem Dulcis et alta quies, placidæque simillima morti.’”

The reader will see that this account agrees exactly with my own experiment. In neither case was death instantaneous, but in both cases the power or wish to move seemed to be immediately taken from the animal, though wounded in a limb and not in a mortal spot.

Of course the quantity of poison must be proportioned to the size of the animal. The tales that are told of a mere scratch producing death are manifest exaggerations. It has been mentioned that in Guiana no very large animals are found, the tapir and the jaguar being the largest of the mammalia. For the purpose of killing these, or going to battle where man is to be destroyed, the natives employ a very different weapon, and use a bow and arrow of rather peculiar construction.

They are extremely long, some of them being six feet in total length. The shaft is made of a cylindrical, hollow, and very strong reed (Gynecium saccharinum) which runs to some length without a knot or joint. In one end is fixed a long spike of a very hard and heavy wood, called letter wood, because it is covered with red marks like rude attempts at writing, very much like the scribbled marks on a yellow-hammer’s egg. In order to guard it from splitting, the shaft of the arrow is bound for some inches with cotton thread. The commoner kinds of arrow are merely wrapped with this thread, but in the better sorts the thread is woven in patterns almost as neat as those employed by the Polynesian islanders. When the native wants to make a peculiarly beautiful arrow, he ornaments it in a most singular manner. Into the thread which wraps the shaft are inserted a quantity of brilliantly colored feathers, mostly those of the various parrots which are so plentiful in Southern America. Only the smallest and softest feathers are used, and they are worked into the wrapping in a manner which produces the most artistic combinations of color.

The natives have a marvellous eye for color, most likely from having continually before their eyes the gorgeous insects and birds of their luxuriant country, and it is wonderful to see the boldness with which they achieve harmony from a number of hues that scarcely any one would dare to place in opposition with each other. Scarlet, yellow, pink, blue, green, and snowy white are all used in these arrows, and are arranged in a way that would do honor to the best European artist.

Sometimes a cap is made for the arrows, and decorated with feathers in the same brilliant style. Such arrows as these require much care on the part of the owner, who is not content with an ordinary quiver, wherein they might be jolted about and their lovely feathers spoiled, but constructs a special and peculiar quiver for their reception. He takes a number of bamboos, about the thickness of a man’s finger, and cuts them into pieces some eighteen inches in length. These he lashes firmly together, and then ties over them a bark cover, neatly wrapped with cotton string.

Each of these tubes contains one arrow, which fits with moderate tightness, the downy feathers keeping it in its place. They are fixed so perfectly, that when the arrow is pushed into its tube the feathers are pressed tightly against the shaft, and when it is withdrawn, they spring out by their own elasticity, and form an elegant colored tuft. As the long arrow shafts are apt to vibrate by their own weight, and might damage the feather tufts in the tubes, a cap is usually slipped over them--in some cases plain, like the covering of the quiver, but in others gorgeously made of feathers. These arrows are tipped with the barbed tail-bone of the sting-ray or are pointed with iron, and not with bone. These arrows and one of the tubes are illustrated on p. 1214.

The heads of the arrows are made in various ways. Sometimes they are simply covered with a series of rather blunt barbs, but the generality of them are constructed after a very elaborate fashion.

The barb of one kind of arrow reminds the observer of the weapon of the Bosjesman, though the arrow is almost a spear in comparison with the tiny weapon of the African savage. The point is tipped with a piece of iron cut into a single barb, and projecting from it and pointing in the opposite direction a curved iron spike is slightly lashed to the shaft with cotton.

A thick layer of wourali poison is laid on the arrow for about three inches, aiding to fasten the iron spike to the shaft. Now, the wourali poison mixes instantaneously with the blood, so that when the arrow penetrates an animal, the poison dissolves, and allows the spike to escape into the wound, carrying with it a sufficient amount of the poison to cause death, even if in its struggles the animal should succeed in shaking out the arrow itself. If the reader will refer to illustration No. 4, on page 247, he will see in the illustration (fig. 4) the Bosjesman arrow, which is made on the same principle.

Some of these arrows appear to have been much prized by the owners who have covered them with an elaborate ornamentation of cotton thread for a considerable portion of their length--an example of which, drawn from one of my own specimens, may be seen in the illustration. Some of the arrows have long ends of cotton strings hanging from them in lieu of the feather tufts. These dangling cords are often used as ornaments by the natives, who decorate with them their clubs in such a manner that two or three blows must destroy the whole of the work. We shall presently see examples of these clubs.

The arrow head which is most in vogue among the Macoushies, whom we take as the typical tribe of this part of the world, is made in a different fashion. A square groove, about an inch in depth, is cut in the extremity of the letter wood spike which terminates the arrow, and a slight sliver of bamboo is lashed so as to press against the opening along the side. A barbed spike of coucourite wood is then cut. It is about three inches in length, flat toward the point, and squared at the base, so as to slip easily into the groove at the head of the arrow, where it is slightly held by means of the little bamboo spring. This spring enables the head to remain in its place while the archer is fitting the arrow to his bow and taking aim; but as soon as the missile has struck its object, and the animal bounds forward, the poisoned head remains in the wound, and the shaft falls on the ground.

There is considerable art in putting the wourali on this kind of arrow head. It is done in several layers, one being allowed to dry before the other is applied, and being managed so as to cause an edge of the pitch-like wourali to run along each side of the head. In consequence of the movability of the head the native archer does not trouble himself to carry more than one or two shafts, though he has by him a store of ready-poisoned heads. These are kept in a little quiver made of a joint of bamboo fitted with a cover, in order to keep the poison from moisture, and with a cotton belt by which it can be slung over the shoulders.

One of these quivers in my collection, (see illustration No. 6, page 1231,) brought from Guiana by Sir. R. Schomburgk, is only seven inches long by an inch and a half wide, and is capable of containing twelve to fourteen poisoned heads. The native hunter does not require more than this number, as he rarely shoots without hitting, and when he has struck one animal large enough to require this kind of arrow, he seldom wants more than one specimen. In the course of this account of the Guiana natives the reader will notice the many trouble saving expedients employed by them.

Owing to the generous nature of the country, which supplies food without requiring labor, and the warm, moist character of the climate, the natives are very apathetic, and have the strongest objection to carrying one ounce more weight, or doing one stroke more work, than is absolutely needful. So, instead of carrying a large bundle of arrows, the hunter has one, or at the most two arrows, and a quantity of small poisoned heads, the whole equipment being so light that a child just able to walk could carry the bow, arrows, and quiver without being much inconvenienced.

Knowing the power of this poison, the natives are exceedingly cautious in handling it, and never carry the arrow with its head bare. They always slip over the head a small tube of bamboo, just large enough to be held in its place by the cotton wrapping that passes round the junction of the head and the shaft. This is never removed except when the arrow is to be used, and it is scarcely possible to frighten a native more than by taking off the guard of an arrow and holding the point to him. It is of this kind of arrow that the following story is told in Mr. Waterton’s “Wanderings.”

“One day ... an Arawâk Indian told an affecting story of what happened to a comrade of his. He was present at his death. As it did not interest the Indian in any point to tell a falsehood, it is very probable that his account was a true one. If so, it appears that there is no certain antidote, or at least an antidote that could be resorted to in a case of urgent need; for the Indian gave up all thoughts of life as soon as he was wounded.

“The Arawâk Indian said it was but four years ago that he and his companion were ranging in the forest in quest of game. His companion took a poisoned arrow, and sent it at a red monkey in a tree above him. It was nearly a perpendicular shot. The arrow missed the monkey, and in the descent struck him in the arm, a little above the elbow. He was convinced it was all over with him. ‘I shall never,’ said he to his companion, in a faltering voice, ‘bend this bow again.’ And having said that, he took off his little bamboo poison box which hung across his shoulder, and putting it, together with his bow and arrows, on the ground, he laid himself down close by them, bade his companion farewell, and never spoke more.”

Mr. Waterton then proceeds to mention the different antidotes, in none of which does he place the least reliance, and in another place remarks that if the natives knew of any remedy for the poison, they would never be without it.

Before passing to the manufacture of this dreaded poison, we will finish the description of the arrows.

The very long arrows, with their plumed shafts, need no feathers, their great length sufficing to keep them straight during their flight. Were the Guianan native to attempt a “long shot,” he would fail. He is not used to long ranges, which for the most part are rendered needless by the conformation of the country and the density of the foliage. He does not expect to shoot at an object distant more than thirty or forty yards, and likes to get much closer if possible. At these short ranges, the great length of the arrow keeps it straight, and is effectual in enabling the hunter to strike an animal, such as a tapir, a capybara, or a monkey, through the masses of vegetation by which it is concealed from most eyes except those of a native.

Most of the arrows, however, are feathered, and there is such ingenuity in the way of putting on the feathers that it deserves mention. In the arrows to which we are accustomed there are three feathers, but in the Guianan arrow there are only two. These are taken from the corresponding feathers of the opposite wings of the bird, so that when they are fixed on the end of the shaft they curve in different directions, like two blades of a steamer’s screw, and so communicate a revolving motion to the arrow as it flies through the air. So, if a native has two or three arrows before him to which he wishes to add the feathers, he procures a bird, and for the first arrow takes, we will say, the second primary feather from the right and left wings of the bird, cuts off a portion of the upper part, about three inches in length, strips away the inner half of the feather, and fastens the remainder on the weapon. The next arrow is feathered from the third primary of each wing, and so on. See illustration No. 1, page 1231.

The feathers are lashed to the arrow with cotton thread, and so rudely put on, that they would sadly cut an English archer’s hand when the arrow was shot. In order to preserve the nock of the arrow from being split by the bow-string, it is not made in the reed shaft of the arrow itself, but in a piece of letter wood, which is lashed to the butt of the arrow.

The bow is often shorter than the arrows, and is of no great strength, a long range being, as has already been stated, not required. Many kinds of wood furnish the Guianan bow, but those weapons which are most in favor are made of a species of Lecythis. They are strung with the silk grass which has been already mentioned.

Besides the ordinary mode of using their bows and arrows, the Guianan natives have another, which exactly resembles that sport of the old English archers, when a garland was laid on the ground, and the archers, standing in a circle round it, shot their arrows high into the air, so that they should fall into the garland. It sometimes happens that a turtle is lying in the water in such a manner that an arrow, shot at it in the usual manner, would only glance off its hard coat without doing any injury. The hunter, therefore, shoots upward, calculating the course of the descending missile so accurately that it falls upon the turtle’s back, and penetrates the shell.

These arrows are heavier than the ordinary kinds, and are furnished with a sharp iron point, made in a very ingenious manner. As may be seen by reference to illustration No. 5, page 1231, the iron point is doubly barbed. Its neck, at first flat, is soon divided into two portions, which diverge from each other, and have their ends sharply pointed, so as to constitute a secondary pair of barbs. A stout double string of silk grass is then fixed to the neck, and cotton cord, strengthened with kurumanni wax, is coiled round the diverging points, so as to form a tube. The end of the piece of hard wood which terminates the arrow is scraped down to a conical point, so that it can easily be slipped into the tube. Lastly, the double cord fastened to the head is carried for a foot or so along the arrow, and made fast by a couple of belts of silk grass.

As soon as this arrow strikes the turtle, it dashes off, shaking the shaft out of the tube, and so preventing the arrow from being worked out of the wound by dragging the upright shaft through the water. Whenever the reptile comes near the surface, the light reed shaft of the arrow rises so as to indicate its presence, and, aided by this mark, the hunter is soon able to secure the reptile. The arrow, a part of which is shown in the illustration, is rather more than five feet in length. It is represented with the shaft separated from the tube. The iron point is thick and solid, and as the hard-wood spike is fourteen inches in length, the front part of the missile is comparatively heavy, causing it to descend with great force.

* * * * *

We now come to the manufacture of the dreaded poison which produces such fatal effects. The natives are very chary of giving information on the subject, and it is very difficult to learn the precise ingredients, the proportionate quantities, or the mode of preparing them. The following account is obtained partly from Mr. Waterton’s book, partly from information given by himself, and partly from the words and works of other travellers in the country.

A good many articles are employed, or said to be employed, but I believe that only two are really needed. The native who is about to make wourali sets about his task in a very deliberate manner. He sets off into the woods alone, taking on his back a peculiar kind of basket called a “quake” or “habbah.” This is a very ingenious kind of basket, combining the two requisites of lightness and strength. It is generally used when the native wants to carry objects that are not very heavy, and are large enough not to slip through the interstices.

It is made from the ittiritti reed, split into slips about the third of an inch in width. As when tilled it swells out toward the bottom and is narrow at the mouth, the objects that are placed in it have no tendency to fall out, which might easily be the case with an ordinary basket, as the bearer is obliged to clamber over fallen trees, to force his way through the dense underwood of a tropical forest, and to subject the quake to such rough treatment that its qualities of form and elasticity are continually brought into operation.

The quake will hold a wonderful amount of goods, being as dilatable as an English carpet-bag. My own specimen (see illustration No. 3, p. 1231,) measures twenty inches in width, and this is the usual average.

The first thing to be sought is the wourali vine (strychnos toxifera). It is closely allied to the tree which furnishes the well-known strychnine, in its coarser stages of preparation called nux vomica, or ratsbane. The upas tree, which furnishes the poison for the Dyak sumpitan arrows, belongs to the same genus. The wourali (spelt sometimes “oorara” or “curari”), though not very rare, is very local, and not easily discovered. It has a vine-like appearance, with a woody stem about three inches in diameter, covered with rough gray bark. The leaves are dark green, placed opposite each other, and of an oval form. The fruit is nearly as large as an apple, round, and smooth, with seeds imbedded in a bitter gummy pulp.

When the poison maker has found the wourali, he looks after two bulbous plants, containing a green and glutinous juice, and puts some of their stems into the quake. The third vegetable is a bitter root, which I believe to be the hyarri, a papilionaceous plant, which is largely used by the natives in poisoning the water when catching fish on a large scale. All parts of the hyarri are poisonous, but the root is the most powerful part of it. The natives take some of the root in their canoes, bale water over it, and pound it with their clubs. After allowing the water time to mix with the expressed juice, the fisherman throws it overboard, and in a few minutes every fish within a considerable distance comes floating to the surface perfectly helpless. One cubic foot of the hyarri will poison an acre of water, even among rapids, while a much less quantity is needed for creeks and still water. The poison has no effect on the flesh of the fish, which is perfectly wholesome.

The wourali and the hyarri are, in my opinion, the essential parts of the poison, the bulbous plants probably supplying the glutinous matter needed to make it adhere to the point of the weapon. But the poison maker is not content with vegetable substances, but presses the animal kingdom into his service.

He procures two kinds of ant, one the muniri (Ponera grandis), a huge, black creature, sometimes an inch in length, with a sting so venomous that it often produces a fever. One of these ants is in my collection, and its very look is venomous enough to warn any one against it. The other is the fire-ant (Myrmica sævissima), a tiny red insect, whose sting is just like the thrust of a redhot needle. Besides these he takes the poison fangs of the labarri and counacouchi snakes, two of the most venomous serpents of the country. These fangs are kept in store, as the native always kills these reptiles whenever he sees them, and extracts their poison fangs.

That these latter ingredients can have no effect in increasing the power of the poison I never doubted, and some years ago I expressed my opinion that they were not used at all, but merely collected as a blind, to prevent the secret of the poison being known. This opinion is corroborated by the researches of Dr. Herman Beigel, who analyzed some wourali poison taken from the same arrow with which the hedgehog was killed, and who ascertained that there was not a particle of bony or animal matter in the poison, but that it was wholly of a vegetable character. Moreover, there was no trace of red pepper, which is said to be one of the ingredients.

As far as the sense of taste goes, my own experience coincides with that of Dr. Beigel. I have tasted the poison, which is innocuous unless mixed directly with the blood, and found it to be intensely bitter, and rather aromatic. These two qualities are doubtless due to the strychnine of the wourali and to the hyarri. There was not the least flavor of red pepper.

All these ingredients being procured, the poison maker sets to work in a very systematic manner. He will not prepare the wourali in, or even near, his own house, but makes his preparations in the depth of the forest, where he builds a little hut especially for the purpose. His first care is to build a fire, and while it is burning up, he scrapes into a perfectly new pot a sufficient quantity of the wourali wood, adding to it the hyarri in proper proportion, and placing them in a sort of colander. Holding the colander and its contents over the pot, the Indian pours boiling water over them, and allows the decoction to drain into the vessel, when it looks something like coffee. When a sufficient quantity has been obtained, the bulbous roots are bruised and their juice squeezed into the pot, and, lastly, the snakes’ fangs and ants are pounded and thrown into the pot.

The vessel is now placed on the fire, which is kept up very gently, so as to allow the contents to simmer, rather than boil, and more wourali juice is added to supply the waste by evaporation. A scum is thrown up during the process, and carefully skimmed with a leaf, the boiling being continued until the poison is reduced to a thick dark brown syrup, about the consistence of treacle. According to some accounts, the seeds of the red pepper are used, not as adding to the strength of the poison, but as a test of its preparation being complete. When the native thinks that the poison is nearly ready, he throws into it a single seed of red pepper, which immediately begins to revolve. He then allows the boiling to proceed a little longer, and throws in another seed, which perhaps revolves, but more slowly; and he repeats this experiment until the seed remains stationary, which is accepted as a proof that the preparation is complete.

The Indian then takes a few arrows, dips them in the poison, and tries their effect upon some animal or bird, and, if satisfied with the effect, pours the poison into a new earthenware pot, ties a couple of leaves over the mouth, and a piece of wet hide over the leaves, so as to exclude both air and moisture, especially the latter. The little pots which are used for holding the wourali are nearly spherical, and about as large as an ordinary orange.

The above account of preparing the wourali poison is that which is furnished by the natives, but, as they have a definite object in keeping the mode of preparation secret, it cannot be absolutely relied upon. That there is a secret connected with its manufacture is evident from the fact that the Macoushie poison is acknowledged to be better and stronger than that which is manufactured by any other tribe, and that all the Guianan tribes are glad to purchase wourali from the Macoushies.

It is not every native who knows how to make this wonderful poison. The knowledge is restricted to the conjurers, who keep it in their families and hand it down from father to son. They are so careful to preserve their secret, that not only do they make the wourali at a distance from their houses, but when they have completed the manufacture they burn down the huts, so as to obliterate every trace of the means which have been employed.

They have a sort of superstitious reverence for the wourali. The ostensible reason which is given for burning down the hut is, that it is polluted by the fumes of the poison, and may never again be inhabited, so that it is better to burn it down at once. They allege that during its preparation the Yabahou, or evil spirit, is hovering over, ready to seize upon those who are uninitiated in the mysteries, and so by the aid of superstition effectually prevent their proceedings from being watched.

In order to carry out this fear of the wourali to its full extent, the professors of poison-manufacture will refuse to make it except when they please, alleging any excuse that may suggest itself. Mr. Waterton narrates an instance where a man who had promised to make some wourali poison declined to do so at the last moment, on the ground that he expected an increase to his family. The maker is always pleased to consider himself ill after he has completed his work, which, in spite of the repeated washing of his face and hands, renders him sufficiently liable to the attacks of the invisible Yabahou to cause indisposition. The manufacturer is not altogether an impostor in this case, but acts from a sort of belief in the mysterious gloom which always surrounds the wourali. Nothing, for example, would induce him to eat while the poison is being prepared, and, however hungry he may be, he will fast until the completed wourali has been poured into its receptacle.

Although the chief poison in Guiana, the wourali is not the only one, the natives having discovered a sort of wood which is sufficiently poisonous in itself to need no other appliance. The wood is that of some endogenous tree, of a pale yellow color. From this wood the natives cut long blade-shaped heads, much resembling those of the Kaffir assagais in form. The peculiar shape of the head may be seen in figures 4 and 5 of illustration No. 4, on page 1231, which represents two views of the same arrow head. Sometimes the head is left quite plain, but in some specimens a pattern is rudely scribbled on the outer surface of the blade. Annatto is the coloring matter used, leaving a dusky red dye behind it. I possess specimens of these arrows, both plain and colored.

These flat heads are lashed to the hard-wood spike that terminates the arrow by a complicated arrangement of cotton threads, which, though they do not possess the artistic elegance of the Polynesian wrapping, yet are crossed and recrossed so as to produce a series of diamond shaped patterns. Mr. Waterton first called my attention to the venomous properties of this arrow head.

The young men practise diligently with these weapons. The largest, which are intended for the slaughter of tapirs, jaguars, and such like animals, are tested by being shot perpendicularly into the air, each archer trying to send his arrow above that of his competitor.

Mr. Brett, in his “Indian Tribes of Guiana,” gives an interesting account of the skill of the natives as marksmen, and relates one little episode of the shooting, which shows that the “inevitable dog” accompanies sports in Guiana, just as he does in England.

“After several rounds from each man and boy, the archery contest closed by a simultaneous discharge of arrows from every bow. More than two hundred shafts flying through the air together presented a novel spectacle, and in an instant demolished the target amid loud shouts from all. A dog which, unheeded, had wandered behind it, was surrounded by the crop of arrows which suddenly stuck in the sand, some even beneath him. He was a lucky dog, however, for with marvellous fortune he escaped unhurt, though bewildered by the adventure and the roar of applause which followed his somewhat hasty retirement, with deprecating look and drooping tail.”

Spears are also used by some of the tribes. The same writer describes the mode in which a Warau had practised with the spear. His weapon was made of the same material as the arrow, but of greater size, the shaft being of reed, and the head of hard wood. The young spearman had fixed a mark on the soft stem of a plantain tree. As the missile struck the mark, the hard-wood head remained sticking in the tree, while the elastic shaft bounded back toward the thrower.

The lad said that this javelin was used for killing sundry large fishes, which are induced to rise to the surface of the water by means of scattering seeds and other food of which they are fond, and are then killed by means of this weapon.

Some of the arrows are unpoisoned, and, as an example of the great variety assumed, of the arrow heads of the different tribes three more specimens are given in the three left-hand figures of illustration No. 4, on page 1231, taken from the “Christy” collection. These heads are something of the same form as those which have just been described, but, instead of being flat, they are curved. The reader may remember that a similar form of arrow prevails in New Guinea. The reason is simple enough. The bamboo is covered with a coating of pure flint, which forms a natural edge so sharp, that when the bamboo is split, it can be used as a knife.

Indeed, until the introduction of iron, the bamboo furnished the knife in ordinary use throughout all Polynesia and many other countries where it grew. It is evident, therefore, that an arrow head merely made from a hollow bamboo stem, and retaining the hollow shape, must be a most formidable weapon, and inflict a very dangerous wound. It is brittle, fragile, and would shiver to pieces against a shield or defensive armor of even moderate strength, but against the naked bodies of the Indians it is a most effective weapon.

Great pains have been taken with these arrows, all of which have been ornamented in some peculiar manner. One of them is covered on the convex side with colored patterns, just as is the case with the poison-wood arrow just described. Another is not only ornamented, but cut into barbs. The third, which is plain, is distinguished by a hollow ball, placed just below the head. The ball is pierced with a hole, so that when the arrow is sent from the bow a whistling sound will be produced. The Chinese use whistling arrows at the present time, and so did our archers in the days when the long-bow was the pride of England. In all these cases, the whistle could be used for amusement in time of peace, but for signals in time of war.

As the thoughtful reader might gather from the elaborate care exercised in ornamenting these weapons, the natives would rather exhibit than use them. It is almost invariably found to be the case, that really warlike people keep their weapons in the highest state of efficiency, but trouble themselves comparatively little about ornamenting them, whereas those who want a reputation for valor, without the trouble and danger of earning it, try to gain their end by having their weapons covered with ornament, and themselves assuming as martial an aspect as possible. If the reader will remember the various peoples that have been described in the course of this work, he will see how completely this rule holds good.

Take, by way of example, the Fijian and the Tongan. The one is celebrated throughout the world for the variety, the beauty, the finish, and the artistic ornamentation of his weapons. He always moves armed, feeling himself at a loss without his club on his shoulder; he bedizens himself in the most extravagant manner for the war dance, and before joining in actual battle he consumes a vast amount of time in boasting of his prowess, and of the use to which he will put the body of his foe.

But the Tongan, who never thinks of boasting before or after battle, whose weapons are simple and unadorned, is so completely the superior of the Fijian that he could, if he chose, make himself the master of the whole Fiji territory. We see the same characteristic in several Eastern lands, in which the men are walking arsenals of weapons inlaid with gold, silver, and precious stones, and yet will take the first opportunity of running away when there is a probability that their ornamental weapons will be used in earnest.

So the experienced anthropologist, as soon as he sees these beautifully carved arms, decorated with the most delicate plumage, and painted with all the colors which native art can supply, at once makes up his mind that such weapons are more for show than use, and that the makers would not have expended such time and trouble upon them, if they had intended them to undergo the rough usage of actual warfare.

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CXXXI. THE TRIBES OF GUIANA--Continued

WAR--SUPERSTITION.

GUIANAN CLUBS -- THE SAPAKANA AND POTU -- WARFARE -- CANNIBALISM -- THE SHELL MOUND AND ITS CONTENTS -- RISE AND FALL OF THE CARIB TRIBE -- BLOOD FEUDS -- THE KANAIMA AND ITS RESULTS -- A STRANGE SUPERSTITION -- THE GUIANAN VAMPIRE -- WAR WITH THE ARAWÂKS -- INGENIOUS STRATEGY -- THE AMBUSH -- THE FORT AND THE BOOM -- CAPTURE OF THE CHIEF AND END OF THE WAR.

We will now pass to their clubs, in which, as well as in the arrows, can be read the characteristics of their makers: some of them are wonderful examples of savage art. The specimens which are shown in an illustration on the preceding page are all drawn from examples in the “Christy” collection.

Those on the right are examples of the kind of club which is called Sapakana. They are made of the heaviest and hardest wood which the native can find, and some of them are so large and heavy that they require a strong man to wield them. The blade is formed something like that of the New Zealand merai, being slightly convex in the middle, and coming to an edge on either side, so that it is as formidable a weapon as can well be imagined.

In order to give a firm grasp, the handle is covered with cotton string wound upon it very neatly, afterward being ornamented with feathers and similar decorations. As the heads of these clubs are very much alike, I have only given one entire, and the handles of two others. The central is the most highly ornamented, having tufts of brilliant green feathers just at the junction of the head and the handle, and below the feathers a series of white balls made of cotton-wool. The reader will doubtless admire the elaborate pattern in which the cotton string is wound upon the handle. One of these weapons in my own collection very much resembles that which has been already described, except that, instead of the feathers and cotton-wool balls, it is ornamented with a series of long trailing tufts made of cotton fibre.

At the present time the use of these beautiful clubs is practically abandoned, the musket having superseded the native weapons, so that the clubs, although they are still manufactured, are made for sale, and not for use.

Next comes a club which is used by the Caribs. It carries out fully the principle which has just been mentioned respecting the ratio between the ornament of the weapon and the warlike spirit of the user. This club is comparatively plain, being meant for use and not for show. The makers call it by the name of Potu, and it is evidently a modification of the “macana” club of the Gran Chaco Indians. To the eye it seems no very powerful weapon, but its weight, form, and balance render it capable of dashing out the brains of a man with a single blow. There is generally a wrapping of cotton string round the middle, so as to afford a firm grip, and a loop made of the same material, which passes over the wrist. A modification of the potu is shown in the left-hand specimen.

The very shape of the potus proves that they are meant to be used by a courageous and warlike people. As a rule the instinct of a really courageous people is to “get at” the adversary, while that of an unwarlike people is to keep the foe at a distance.

As to warfare and the mode of conducting it, there is considerable variation in the different tribes, some being peaceable and quiet, while others are just the reverse. The most warlike tribe among them is undoubtedly the Carib, of which Raleigh wrote that they were a naked people, but as valiant as any under the sky.

The Caribs were at that time the most important of the Guianan tribes, having earned their prominence by their weapons. If they quarrelled with another tribe, they were accustomed to make an expedition into the enemy’s land by night, surround in succession their scattered villages, kill all the men, and take the women and children prisoners. Some of these captives were employed as slaves among themselves, and by degrees became incorporated with the tribe of their captors, while others were reserved for sale. They did not, however, restrict themselves to this kind of secret expedition, but openly made war with other tribes, and boasted that they would paddle their canoes against the stream, so that the enemy might hear them coming and not be taken by surprise.

There seems to be little doubt that the Caribs were at one time cannibals, though at the present day there is great difficulty in getting them to acknowledge the fact. The former cannibalism of these tribes was easily continued by some discoveries which were made in a large mound situated on a sand reef, some ten or twelve miles from the sea.

Thinking that this mound might be a kitchen midden similar to those which are found in many parts of the Old World, Mr. Brett instituted a search, and found that, like these mounds, the heap consisted chiefly of shells, mostly those of mussels and periwinkles, together with the claws and shells of crabs, and some bones of fishes and land vertebrates. At no very great depth from the surface, the excavators came upon a vast quantity of human bones, the skulls shattered to pieces, and the bones of the arms and legs split longitudinally.

To an experienced eye this state of the bones told its own story. The bones were not laid regularly, as they would have been if they had been the remains of bodies regularly interred, but were tossed about in confusion, the fragments of skulls, vertebrae, and limbs being scattered here and there without the least order. The story which these remains tell is simple enough. They are the bones of human beings who have been eaten by their fellow-men, which, after being cracked for the sake of the marrow, have been flung aside, together with the shells of molluscs and other refuse. That this horrid custom was common to all the tribes at one time seems very probable, but the Caribs are the last to whom cannibalism has been attributed.

Like the Mundurucús, the Caribs had an ordeal consisting in enduring the bites of ants. They had no hereditary chief, though the son of a chief would succeed his father if he were considered to possess sufficient ability and courage. Even in such a case, the candidate for chieftainship had to prove his superiority over his fellows by his capability of bearing privations as well as torture. He was required to show that he was acquainted with all the stratagems of war, that he could endure long fasting, that he was of unflinching courage, and that he could resist even the terrible ordeal of the ants, and not until he had satisfactorily passed through all those trials did the tribe lay their weapons at his feet in token of their submission to him.

We may naturally feel some surprise that a people who exhibit such an indomitable spirit, and such a love of freedom, who have overrun vast tracts of territory and successfully resisted even the well-armed and disciplined troops of Europe, should not have advanced in the scale of civilization, but have remained as savage at the present day as we know them to have been three hundred years ago. Mr. Brett, whose personal knowledge of them enables him to speak with authority, gives his solution of the question as follows:--

“There arose among them no master spirit, who, combining the wisdom of the legislator with the bravery of the warrior, might have established humane and civilizing institutions among his people, and permanently united their scattered hordes. In great emergencies the necessity for united action led them accordingly to follow, and implicitly obey, some one of their chiefs, invested by themselves with superior authority, like a dictator of ancient Rome. But at other times each petty head of a clan or family moved and acted in a great measure as he pleased, there being no actual power nor hereditary authority sufficiently respected to command the obedience of all.

“Having thus no permanent band of cohesion, their wild hordes could only fight, overrun, oppress, and destroy, and in their highest prosperity were incapable of accomplishing any great and useful work which might have remained as their memorial to future ages.”

In consequence of the want of leadership, the Carib tribe, once the greatest, and perhaps the origin of all the Guianan tribes, is steadily decreasing, and, valiant as they may be, they are no longer the terror of the other tribes, as they used to be. Indeed, during their feud with the Acawaios, in which they have been engaged for a long time, the Caribs have by no means been the winners. They have even been obliged to quit their own district, and settle themselves near the missionary stations for protection.

The same author who has just been quoted mentions several instances which show the failing power of the Caribs. On one occasion a Carib chief came to live at the mission station because he had found that a party of Acawaios, painted and equipped for war, were lurking near his home in the forest. Even in his place of refuge he was not safe from his enemies. One evening the village was disturbed by loud outcries, and it was found that a son-in-law of the chief had been seriously hurt, and was lying in his hammock, writhing with the pain of a blow which he had received. He had wandered to some little distance from the house, when he caught sight of an Acawaio behind him. He turned round, sprang upon the enemy, and threw his arms round him; but the man was too strong, hurled him to the ground, and, as he fell, struck the blow which had caused him to take to his hammock.

The whole Carib party was in great confusion and terror for some time, but at last it turned out that the attack was in consequence of a personal feud with the wounded man. Two years before, his father had been assassinated by the Acawaios, and he very naturally used his bow and arrows in a vain attempt to save his father’s life. This act drew upon him the vengeance of the Acawaios, who marked him for death whenever they could find an opportunity of killing him. He had fled from the Essequibo to Pomeroon, but uselessly, and was advised by the missionary to go to the coast and procure employment on one of the sugar estates, where his enemies would not be likely to follow.

Sometimes a blood feud is caused by a superstitious practice called Kanaima. A person dies, and the medicine man decides that the death has been caused by some one who has used sorcery for the purpose of taking away his life. The supposed wizard is then doomed to die, and a near relative of the deceased is set apart for the purpose of carrying out the sentence. He is supposed to be possessed by a wandering spirit called Kanaima, and is called by that name until the deed of vengeance is accomplished. During the time of possession, the Kanaima has to suffer many privations, so that the mere wish to be restored to his ordinary life acts as an incentive to the fulfilment of his office.

The mode of killing a victim according to the Kanaima superstition is a very cruel one. He is approached from behind (as was the case with the young Carib above-mentioned); and if the slayer can come within reach, the victim is struck down with a blow on the back of his neck. This blow is not meant to be fatal, and is only hard enough to cause insensibility for a time. The Kanaima then forces open his victim’s mouth, and presses through his tongue the fangs of a venomous serpent. The tongue immediately swells to such an extent as to prevent the unfortunate wretch from speaking, and in the course of a day or two to end his life. Sometimes the Kanaima is said to substitute for the serpent’s fangs a poisonous powder, made for the express purpose, and kept in a little tube made of the wing-bone of a bird. The preparation of this powder is a secret, handed down from father to son.

The task of the Kanaima is not yet ended. Three days after the burial of the victim, the murderer must visit the grave and go through some ceremony, before the Kanaima spirit departs and allows the man to return to his friends. The natives are very chary of their knowledge on this subject, but, as far as can be ascertained, the Kanaima presses a pointed stick through the body, tastes the blood, and by that act is relieved from the spirit of murder.

The friends of the victim, therefore, always endeavor to conceal the place of burial, and it is the duty of the murderer to hover about the place so that they shall not be able to inter the body without his knowledge. Should the friends be successful, the vengeance is reversed, for the unfortunate Kanaima is obliged to wander through the woods until he is afflicted with madness, or some other form of vengeance whereby the spirit of murder punishes those who have not carried out his wishes.

Mr. Brett witnessed several instances of this dreadful mode of punishment, and in one case had little doubt that he had come upon a Kanaima who had been unable to find the body of his victim. “An Indian, reduced almost to a skeleton, and in a dreadful state of exhaustion, was picked up in the forest by some Arawâk, and brought to the Pomeroon mission. He had lost a portion of his scalp, and had his lower lip torn down at each corner. This he said had been done by a small ‘tiger,’ which had sprung on him while lying in the forest....

“The Acawaios at the mission, whose language he spoke, took much care of him at first, but afterward judged, from his refusing certain kinds of food and other signs, that he was a devotee and victim of unappeased Kanaima, and the murderer of a man killed some time before. From this, and his savage, ungrateful demeanor (though Mr. M’Clintock aided by myself, cleansed and dressed his sores to encourage them), we had some difficulty in getting him nursed till his strength had returned, as they feared lest they should become his future victims.”

If the friends of the murdered man fear that they will not be able to conceal the body effectually, they remove the liver, and put in its place a redhot axe-head, under the belief that when the Kanaima tastes the blood of his victim, the heat which was in the axe-head will pass into his body and consume him.

Putting aside private feud, the Caribs have of late been beaten by the other tribes in open war. They had been partially successful against the Arawâks, who had been driven into the swampy district near the Waini. Here, however, the fugitives made a stand, and placed themselves under the supreme command of a well-known and tried warrior. Expecting that the Caribs would soon follow them into their place of refuge, their leader placed his men in ambush among the islands, and awaited the coming of the enemy.

On came the Caribs in their great war canoes, following each other in single file through the narrow creeks which separate the “wet savannah” into islands. They were allowed to pass unhurt, until they rounded one of the islands, when a deadly shower of arrows from both banks disabled or killed every man on board. The second canoe pushed on, only to meet the same fate, while the others, not being able to see the carnage that was taking place, hurried onward toward the spot whence the cries proceeded, and were in their turn overwhelmed with the deadly shower. The victorious Arawâks then jumped into the water, seized the canoes, and killed every one of the warriors with the exception of two. These were sent home by the victors on the promise of a large ransom, to be paid in the cotton hammocks for the manufacture of which the Caribs are so famous; and an insulting message was also sent by them, requesting the Caribs to send another expedition.

On land the Caribs fared as badly against the same foes as they had done by sea. Being determined to resist the continual attacks of the Caribs, the Arawâks made up their minds to fly no more to the swamps for safety, but to boldly face their enemies. They therefore built a large house on the banks of a rivulet, surrounded it with trees laid with their branches outward--in fact, the abattis of modern engineering--and stored the house with as many arrows as they could make. Moreover, they made broad wooden shields, which were used on this occasion for the first and probably for the last time.

As had been anticipated, the Caribs were not very long in making their attack. Seeing a small party of men among the trees, they gave chase and pursued them as far as the house, which they immediately attacked. The defenders did not return the fire of the Caribs, but contented themselves with receiving on their shields the arrows of the enemy. When they judged that the arrows of the foe were nearly exhausted, they made use of their own stores, and poured volley after volley on the invaders, being supplied by the women and boys with arrows as fast as they could shoot. The Caribs were unable to withstand such an attack, and were obliged to beat a retreat, during which they lost many more of their number by the pursuing Arawâks.

The two last decisive battles between these great tribes ended again in favor of the Arawâks. The latter established themselves on the banks of a branch of the river Moruca, a stream which is thickly wooded on both sides. The name of this branch is Haimara-Cabura. Across this stream the Arawâks sank a tree trunk at such a depth that it would allow small canoes to pass over it, while the large and heavily-laden war-canoes must inevitably strike upon it.

The invaders came, as had been expected, but found nothing except empty houses. They then descended the Moruca, looking about for their prey, and at last caught sight of several canoes and gave chase. The fugitive canoes, on reaching the mouth of the Haimara-Cabura, darted into it as if for shelter, and were followed by the invaders, yelling and shouting with excitement. Suddenly, their canoes struck violently against the sunken boom, jerked the paddles from their places, became entangled with each other, and caused inextricable confusion. In the midst of their perplexity, showers of arrows were hurled upon them, and very few of the invading force escaped.

Among them, however, was the Carib chief Manarrawa, who was incensed at the repulse with which he had met, returned to the Orinoco, organized another force, and again attacked the Arawâks. This time he was less fortunate, being wounded and taken prisoner. On being brought before the council of chiefs, Manarrawa promised that, if his life was spared, he would cause his people to cease from further attacks. The Arawâks, more lenient than the Caribs, granted his request, gave him a canoe, and sent him home. He, on his part, performed his promise, and from that time there has been no regular war between the Caribs and Arawâks, although there have been private blood feuds of the kind described.

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