152 TRAVELS ON THE RIO NEGRO. [November, 



rocks, varying from the size of a wheelbarrow to that of a 

 house. I could not have imagined that what at a distance 

 appeared so insignificant, could have presented such a gigantic 

 and rugged scene. All the time we kept a sharp look-out, but 

 saw no birds. At length, however, an old Indian caught hold 

 of my arm, and whispering gently, " Gallo ! " pointed into a 

 dense thicket. After looking intently a little while, I caught 

 a glimpse of the magnificent bird sitting amidst the gloom, 

 shining out like a mass of brilliant flame. I took a step to get 

 a clear view of it, and raised my gun, when it took alarm and 

 flew off before I had time to fire. We followed, and soon it 

 was again pointed out to me. This time I had better luck, 

 fired with a steady aim, and brought it down. The Indians 

 rushed forward, but it had fallen into a deep gully between 

 steep rocks, and a considerable circuit had to be made to get 

 it. In a few minutes, however, it was brought to me, and I 

 was lost in admiration of the dazzling brilliancy of its soft 

 downy feathers. Not a spot of blood was visible, not a feather 

 was ruffled, and the soft, warm, flexible body set off the fresh 

 swelling plumage in a manner which no stuffed specimen can 

 approach. After some time, not finding any more gallos, most 

 of the party set off on an excursion up a more impracticable 

 portion of the rock, leaving two boys with me till they returned. 

 We soon got tired of waiting, and as the boys made me under- 

 stand that they knew the path back to our cave, I determined 

 to return. We descended deep chasms in the rocks, climbed 

 up steep precipices, descended again and again, and passed 

 through caverns with huge masses of rocks piled above our 

 heads. Still we seemed not to get out of the mountain, but 

 fresh ridges rose before us, and more fearful fissures were to 

 be passed. We toiled on, now climbing by roots and creepers 

 up perpendicular walls, now creeping along a narrow ledge, 

 with a yawning chasm on each side of us. I could not have 

 imagined such serrated rocks to exist. It appeared as if a 

 steep mountain-side had been cut and hacked by some gigantic 

 force into fissures and ravines, from fifty to a hundred feet 

 deep. My gun was a most inconvenient load when climbing 

 up these steep and slippery places, and I did it much damage 

 by striking its muzzle against the hard granite rock. At length 

 we appeared to have got into the very heart of the mountain : 

 no outlet was visible, and through the dense forest and matted 



