60 CAMPS IN THE CARIBBEES. 



basin was covered with rocks and earth, white and 

 yellow, perforated like the bottom of a colander, 

 whence issued steam and vapor and sulphur fumes, 

 hot air and fetid gases. There was a full head 

 of steam on, puffing through these vents with the 

 noise of a dozen engines. There were spouting 

 springs of hot water; some were boiling over the 

 surface, some sending up a hot spray, some puffing 

 like high-pressure steamers. Clouds of steam drifted 

 across this small valley, now obscuring every rock and 

 hole, now lifting a few feet, only to settle again. The 

 silver in my pockets and the brass mountings of my 

 camera were soon discolored to a blue-black hue. 

 Several streams ran out and down, uniting in a com- 

 mon torrent : streams hot, impregnated with sulphur ; 

 streams cold, clear and sparkling, only a yard apart ; 

 water of all colors, from blue and green to yellow and 

 milk-w T hite. 



The heat of a West Indian noon was made tenfold 

 oppressive by the hot, moisture-laden atmosphere. My 

 foot slipped, as we groped our way through the clouds 

 of vapor, and got slightly scalded by breaking through 

 the thin crust that covered the boiling caldron beneath. 

 We descended between huge white rocks and bleached 

 and dying trees to a stream of marvelous beauty, pick- 

 ing our way among volcanic bowlders. At once the 

 scene changed ; we entered a ravine through which 

 flowed the streams from above, now mingled in one 

 tepid torrent, along whose banks grew, rank and lux- 

 uriant, plants of such tropic loveliness as made me 

 hold my breath in delight and surprise. Everywhere 

 plashed and tinkled musical waterfalls and cascades ; 

 from all sides little streams came pouring in their trib- 



