After a few days’ hunting around Nóvita we secured another _bongo_ and resumed our journey down-stream. The Tamaná empties into the San Juan, about ten miles below Nóvita. The latter river is wider and deeper, but there is no change in the country bordering it. All day long we glided steadily onward, stopping at noon only for a brief respite from the burning sun. At dusk we landed to spend the night near a negro hut. The floor was raised five feet from the ground and the ragged, thatched roof nearly touched it; there were no walls. Altogether it was a most primitive dwelling, in which the dusky forms of the occupants moved like shadows against the dim light of their cooking fire. Noanamá was reached the next day. It is not quite so large as Juntas de Tamaná, and stands on a bluff overlooking the river. The inhabitants are all negroes; the males wore breech-cloths only, while the costume of the women consisted of a narrow cloth fastened around the waist with a string. Both men and women spend a few hours each day washing gold on the river-bank, securing enough from this work to pay for provisions brought from Buenaventura. When they have accumulated a small quantity of the fine, sparkling flakes they embark in their canoes and make their way to the seaport in three days, there to do their trading. It was impossible to hire them for any kind of work; one woman had flour, but could not bake bread for lack of fire-wood, because no one would carry it from the forest one hundred yards away. Indians came to the village daily. They wore many ornaments of beaten silver about their necks and wrists; some of them also had earrings made of the same metal, the size of doorknobs; they were so heavy that a framework of sticks placed at the back of the head had to be used to support their weight. I was greatly amused by the actions of one stalwart young brave who, with his wife and baby, came to the settlement each day. While in town, where he might be observed, he paid no attention whatever to his family; he walked several paces in front of the woman, who, of course, carried the baby, and not once even condescended to glance in their direction. However, when they reached the river-bank or some other secluded spot where he was safe from prying eyes, he snatched the infant from the mother’s arms, kissed it, tossed it into the air and acted exactly like any other fond parent. If any one approached, he hastily returned it to his wife and resumed his taciturn expression. At times a small steamer, the _Fluvial_, from Buenaventura, visits the settlements on the lower San Juan. We waited in vain ten days for her appearance. However, a launch belonging to a miner, a Mr. Stapleton, chanced to pass, and the owner kindly offered to take us to the coast. The San Juan grows constantly wider. Its banks are dotted with the conical huts of Indians; the floors are always raised on poles, high above the ground, to escape the floods and insects.