At about seven o'clock the next morning I awoke, yawned, crawled out of our makeshift _pamacari_, and saw--a desert of wet, uneven sand. Perfectly stupefied, I awakened Perkins, and we stepped out to investigate. There stood--firm as a rock--the stump that had served as our sheet-anchor, and yonder--separated from us by a broad stretch of sandy beach--ran the river. At last we understood. The river had gone down some two feet during the night and had left us stranded on the enormous _playa_ that was now revealed. Awakening at last from the stupefaction that had overcome us, we endeavoured to push the canoe over the 150 metres of sand that lay between the river and us. We might as well have tried to move the river itself, for we could not shift it an inch. Still undismayed, we grasped our trusty _machetes_, cut down several _selico_-trees, peeled off the bark, and, after a severe struggle, got them under the canoe with the idea of sliding it over them. But it was useless, for they sank out of sight in the sand. The next attempt was still more laborious, for it was nothing less than building a track, composed of two parallel rows of logs and then inserting rollers between the track and the canoe. This, too, proved unavailing. In despair we took out all our effects and tried it again, but in vain. Roused to desperation, we made one more effort by trying to overturn the craft, but it was so waterlogged that we could not lift it three inches. Panting, perspiring, and cursing bitterly, we saw that we were in for it, so, taking a long drink of _aguardiente_ each, we carefully put everything back in the canoe, and I cooked the breakfast while Perkins fixed up the two mosquito-bars over the framework of our late _pamacari_. Breakfast over, we sat down to consider the matter, calmly and judicially. We had tried everything our ingenuity could suggest, but without the slightest success. Thus we should be compelled to stop here until some one came along and helped us or until the river rose again. Judging by the fact that up to this point we had not encountered a single traveller, the first possibility seemed very remote; and in regard to the second, we now remembered that Fajardo had informed us that this was probably the last rise of the river until the beginning of the wet season, which is about the end of January. As it was now Friday, December 13th, it looked as though we were bound to stay here some time. After lunch we set out upon an exploring expedition along the deserted _playa_, which proved to be some three kilometres in length. Through its southern extremity ran a small _quebrada_, which issued from the dense, impenetrable jungle and finally emptied into the river. In some of the deep pools of this stream we observed several enormous alligators swimming about, the tips of their noses protruding from the water like the tops of logs.