LOST IN THE FOKEST. 79 



rapidly-gathering dusk we woiild seem to see a tliatclied 

 hut rise uj) friendly before us, but, on approaching it, 

 some disturbed bird would fly out with a scream and dis- 

 pel the illusion. 



For some time before Ave reached the open water, we 

 perceived that our crew were in doubt as to the direction, 

 and just as the sun went down we were brought to a 

 stand-still on a little spot of land rising out of the water, 

 with no idea where to turn. El Patron and Yiviano left 

 the boat to have a reconnoitre and consultation, while we 

 waited for them in a dubious frame of mind. "Angel, 

 we are lost, are we not ? " " Yes, sir." A pleasant idea, 

 that of spending the night in the boat, no possibility of 

 lying down, the air full of the deadliest miasma, while the 

 low humming song from millions of tiny pipers, gradually 

 growing louder and louder, told us of a night of torture 

 worse than the mere loss of sleep. 



But our journey for the day was not yet at an end. 

 As we sat meditating in the dark, there came to us faintly 

 a roar as of distant water. " El caiion," said our patron, 

 and we immediately started in the direction of the sound. 

 Soon we entered a little narrow stream, barely wide 

 enough for our canoe, but running with considerable 

 swiftness, which rajjidly increased, till we were hurrying 

 along like a race-horse. Viviano stood up in the bow, 

 using his palanca like a madman, now on one side, now 

 on the other, to keep us free from the banks, but suddenly 

 his pole was torn from his grasp, scraping along the car- 

 roza to the imminent danger of our heads, while at the 

 same moment, the river making a quick bend, our bongo 

 far too long to turn, stuck fast in the bend, keeling over till 

 the water rushed in at the lower side. Disembarking with 

 our available crew, we righted our craft and then dug 

 away the bank till there was room enough for us to turn. 

 Galloping on, the stream grew wider, and the current 



