As we slowly neared the bank I suggested to Orjuela that as there were only two of them we might drop them when we got up at close quarters and then get away, for we had arms, and the _peon_ as soon as he saw us come towards the shore had let his rifle rest on the ground and was now leaning upon it in a negligent attitude; Orjuela, however, did not seem to think it good policy, so we pulled up at the shore and asked what was up. The agent then informed Orjuela that he was a prisoner, and he and the _peon_ led us--boatmen and all--up to the house. Here he stated that he had received orders to detain Orjuela and two of the Indians; but, having had no instructions in regard to Sánchez and myself, he announced that we were at liberty to continue on upstream with the _peon_ of Orjuela's--whom we passed off as my own--and the remaining Indian. In reply to our protests and inquiries as to the reason for this high-handed proceeding he maintained an absolute silence. Seeing that nothing was to be done, we accordingly took our leave of the unfortunate Orjuela and resumed our journey up the river. We continued rowing until late that night, but were able to make but slow progress, owing to the absence of the other two boatmen. Meanwhile we indulged in many conjectures as to what would happen to us and the people of La Reserva and La Unión, completely at the mercy of these latter-day pirates, who seemed to stop at nothing in their greedy ambition to obtain possession of the establishments of the Colombian settlers--Serrano, Gonzalez and Ordoñez, and Martínez. The next morning we continued the journey, and in about an hour passed Filadelfia. At about nine o'clock we heard rifle-shots, apparently in the vicinity of La Unión or La Reserva; these lasted nearly an hour. Then they ceased and silence once more reigned over these vast solitudes, so we pushed on until 8 p.m., when, hearing the whistle of a launch coming down the river, we pulled up along the right bank to avoid the waves caused by the propeller. Here our Huitoto, the moment we stopped, leaped ashore, and, with a brief remark that the "Peruvians were very wicked," disappeared in the bushes. I suggested to Sánchez that we had better follow the aborigine's example, but he thought that as he was an exile and I was a foreigner we would not be molested, as at Argelia. Against my better judgment I remained, and we sat there in the canoe, waiting for the approach of the marauders.