The forest back of Calama contained about as much game as is ever found in one spot in South America. There were deer, agoutis, and peccaries, but it was impossible to penetrate far into the interior on account of the Parintintin Indians, who make this region their stronghold. These Indians have always maintained a hostile attitude toward the settlers. An attack was made on Calama one day at noon just as luncheon was being served; from out of the dead silence of midday there suddenly came a shower of arrows; this was promptly answered by rifle-shots from the house, and the Indians immediately fled. Thirty bamboo arrows were gathered up, many of them five feet tall, with barbs on each side of the head; some of the shafts were wrapped with hair and skin taken from the victims of previous raids. The Parintintins are of medium stature and well built; they are frequently at war with their near neighbors, the Mundrucus; when hostilities are in progress, which is nearly always, the front of the head is shaven, leaving only a round spot of short hair no larger than a silver half-dollar in the centre; the hair on the back of the head remains long. The Mundrucus have the curious custom of preserving the heads of the Parintintins slain in battle; one of these I subsequently saw, prepared somewhat in the same manner as those formerly so highly prized by the head-hunters of Ecuador. Apparently the head had been smoked, and the eyes had been replaced with balls of pitch; it was a weird trophy, suggestive of wild orgies and cannibalistic rites performed in the depths of the jungle by the light of flickering pitch-torches, and to the music of wailing reeds and deep-voiced tom-toms. Captain Amilcar reached Calama about a week after our arrival. He had suffered a second accident, in which his canoe, all his personal effects, the instruments, and practically all of his scientific data had been lost. These incidents emphasize the uncertainty of travel and exploration on the great South American waterways, and the dangers to which every one is constantly subjected who ventures beyond the beaten paths of steamships and tourists’ routes. On April 7 the _Fortaleza_, a good-sized steamer plying between Manaos and Santo Antonio, called at Calama on her down-stream journey, and we embarked for the last stage of our journey. We made excellent time, stopping only at long intervals for the purpose of taking aboard Brazil nuts. On the 9th of April we entered the Amazon, and the next morning found us steaming up the Rio Negro, with Manaos visible in the distance. It had been fifty-two days since the division of the expedition at the River of Doubt.