Tame Fawn 153 
crowded quarters, we slept soundly, but were up at daylight, 
and soon ready for our journey again, after Rito had made a 
little coffee, and I had compensated our host for our lodging. 
The scenery around was very fine, and the place might have 
been made an earthly paradise. To the north-east a spur of 
the forest came down to within a mile of the house; in front 
were grassy hills and clumps of brushwood and trees, with a 
clear gurgling stream in the bottom; and beyond, in the 
distance, forest-clad mountains. As usual, the family had 
a pet animal. Before we left, a pretty fawn came in from 
the forest to be fed, and eyed us suspiciously, laying its head 
back over its shoulders, and gazing at us with its large, 
dreamy-looking eyes. The woman told us it had a wild 
mate in the woods, but came in daily to visit them, the dogs 
recognising and not molesting it. Our road still lay within 
a few miles of the dark Atlantic forest, the clouds lying all 
along the first range, concealing more than they exposed. 
There was a sort of gloomy grandeur about the view; so 
much was hidden, that the mind was left at liberty to imagine 
that behind these clouds lay towering mountains and awful 
cliffs. The road passed within a short distance of the rock of 
Cuapo, and, leaving my horse with Rito, I climbed up 
towards it. A ridge on the eastern side runs up to within 
about 200 feet of the summit, and so far it is accessible. Up 
this [ climbed to the base of the brown rock, the perpendicular 
cliff towering up above me; here and there were patches of 
grey, where lichens clung to the rock, and orchids, ferns, and 
small shrubs grew in the clefts and on ledges. There were 
two fine orchids in flower, which grew not only on the rock, 
but on some stunted trees at its base; and beneath some 
fallen rocks nestled a pretty club-moss, and two curious 
little ferns (Aneimea oblongifolia and hirsuta), with the 
masses of spores on stalks rising from the pinnules. The 
rock was the same as that of Pena Blanca, but the vegetation 
was entirely distinct. To the south-west there was a fine 
view down the Juigalpa valley to the lake, with Ometépec in 
the distance, and some sugar-loaf hills nearer at hand. The 
weather had cleared up, white cumuli only sailed across the 
blue‘aérial ocean. The scene had no feature in it of a purely 
tropical character, excepting that three gaudy macaws were 
wheeling round and round in playful flight, now showing all 
