196 



The American Angler 



owner, and we started on our voyage. 

 The river twisted and turned between 

 low and perpendicular banks of earth 

 covered with a heavy growth to the 

 water's edge, the trees on the banks in- 

 clining outward and often covered with 

 vines, which passed from those on one 

 bank to those on the other, forming a 

 natural suspension bridge, on which the 

 king fisher and the coroche, swinging 

 in the shade, waited for the fish to pass 

 beneath, or dozed their noontide siesta. 

 A mile or two of paddling under these 

 triumphal arches of orchids and vines, 

 flowers and moss, and swinging around 

 a low point, we entered the main river, 

 a deep and rapid stream of clear green 

 water, in whose depths we could see the 

 fish dart away at our approach and hide 

 themselves in the sub-aqueous forests of 

 grasses and plants that grew under our 



keel. The Nacimiento came into view- 

 a dark pool of olive green, at the foot 

 of a vine-covered ridge. Giant trees of 

 ceiba, cypress, tepiguache and wild fig, 

 with branching limbs on the edge of 

 the pool, cast a green shade into its. 

 greener depths. In the centre the water 

 boiled in glassy waves, hurrying to the 

 outlet. No ocean ever looked deeper,, 

 no plummet has ever discovered the se- 

 cret of the cave from which springs the 

 Fair Coy, Minerva like ; full grown 

 child of the mountain which hides the 

 mystery of its origin. 



All things must end, and so must our 

 chronicle. Two days later a bronzed 

 and ragged crew sought the shelter of 

 the " 99," wiser if not sadder men. The 

 kid and the guide waved an adios as 

 the train pulled out, and sleepy Valles 

 still dozes on. 



^iW 



