These savages had never seen anything like it until now when one was displayed; and to their ambition to distinguish themselves, was added a keen desire to possess this treasure. The race was three miles long, and there were two rapids to “shoot.” The second one was very dangerous, and was full of jagged rocks. At some distance below this rapid the women and children of the two tribes assembled to watch the boats rush over the fall, and to see them come up to the goal. With them were the few men who did not join in the sport. There were eight canoes, with three men in each. One of these men was the leader; and it was his business to guide the boat with a paddle safely and swiftly through the rapids. These eight leaders were the candidates for the prize. The one whose boat first touched the beach at Toucan Point was to have the knife. It was the duty of the other men to row the boats until they approached the rapids. It seems to me that these men were also entitled to a prize; for, of course, the boats that first reached the rapids were most likely to win; and on the calm stretches of the river everything depended upon the skill of the rowers. But the Antis have their own rules for boat racing. It was a pretty sight to see the eight light, gracefully-pointed canoes abreast, at the start. But nobody was there to witness it, unless we allow Simuco, the monkey, to be a person. He sat upon the bank, and gravely watched the scene. What he thought of it I don’t know, but he perfectly understood that he was not to be of the party. He made no attempt to enter any of the boats, but as soon as the signal was given, and the canoes started off, he darted off also, running swiftly along the shore, or scrambling over rocks. Where the boats started the river widened into a sort of lake, but it soon became too narrow for the boats to keep abreast. The Indians knew this, but they knew that they would not long keep abreast in any case. Before the first mile was passed the boats were much scattered. Four canoes went over the first rapid side by side. Two of them were so close that they came near crashing together, and their leaders yelled and scolded at each other furiously. One of these was Iturim, and the other a young man of the lower Antis, Altisquo. But the four canoes went over together, and swept into the calmer water with their bows in a straight line with each other. During the next mile and a half of quiet water two of these canoes fell back, and were passed by some that had come over the rapid more slowly. The rowers of Iturim and Altisquo kept an even stroke with their oars. Occasionally a boat would pass them, but would soon give out, and the two canoes were still side by side when the last, and most dangerous rapid came in sight.