The village is most picturesquely grouped on a kind of esplanade, and
runs along at about sixty feet from the river. It consists of some
forty miserable huts, whose thatched roofs only just render them
worthy of the name of cottages. A stairway made of crossed trunks of
trees leads up to the village, which lies hidden from the traveler's
eyes until the steps have been ascended. Once at the top he finds
himself before an inclosure admitting of slight defense, and
consisting of many different shrubs and arborescent plants, attached
to each other by festoons of lianas, which here and there have made
their way abgove the summits of the graceful palms and banana-trees.

At the time we speak of the Indians of Iquitos went about in almost a
state of nudity. The Spaniards and half-breeds alone were clothed,
and much as they scorned their indigenous fellow-citizens, wore only
a simple shirt, light cotton trousers, and a straw hat. All lived
cheerlessly enough in the village, mixing little together, and if
they did meet occasionally, it was only at such times as the bell of
the mission called them to the dilapidated cottage which served them
for a church.

But if existence in the village of Iquitos, as in most of the hamlets
of the Upper Amazon, was almost in a rudimentary stage, it was only
necessary to journey a league further down the river to find on the
same bank a wealthy settlement, with all the elements of comfortable
life.

This was the farm of Joam Garral, toward which our two young friends
returned after their meeting with the captain of the woods.

There, on a bend of the stream, at the junction of the River Nanay,