10 THE TROPICAL WORLD. 



to pounce upon them with his fatal spring. On the border of 

 the swamps, the moist clay, slowly heaving, bursts asunder, and 

 from the tomb in which he lay embedded rises a gigantic 

 water-snake or a huge crocodile. The new-formed pools and 

 lakes swarm with life, and a host of water-fowl — ibises, cranes, 

 flamingos, mycterias — make their appearance, to regale on the 

 prodigal banquet. A new creation of insects and other un- 

 bidden guests now seek the wretched hovels of the Indians, 

 which are sparingly scattered over the higher parts of the 

 savannah. Countless multitudes of ants, sandflies, and mos- 

 quitos ; rattlesnakes, expelled by the cold and moisture from 

 the lower grounds ; repulsive geckos, which with incredible 

 rapidity run along the overhanging rafters ; nauseous toads, 

 which, concealing themselves by day in the dark corners of the 

 huts, crawl forth in the evening in quest of prey; lizards, 

 scorpions, centipedes; in a word, worms and vermin of all 

 names and forms, — emerge from the inundated plains, for the 

 tropical rains have gradually converted the savannah, which 

 erewhile exhibited a waste as dreary as that of the Sahara, into 

 a boundless lake. The swollen rivers of the steppe — the Apure, 

 the Arachuna, the Pajara, the Arauca — pour forth their mighty 

 streams over the plains, and boats are now able to sail for miles 

 across the land from one river-bed into another. 



On the same spot where, erewhile, the thirsty horse anxiously 

 snuffed the air to discover by its moisture the presence of some 

 pool, the animal is now obliged to lead an amphibious life. 

 The mares retreat with their foals to the higher banks, which 

 rise like islands above the waters, and as from day to day the 

 land contracts within narrower limits, the want of forage obliges 

 them to swim about in quest of the grasses that raise their heads 

 above the fermenting waters. Many foals are drowned ; many 

 are surprised by the crocodiles, that fell them by a stroke of 

 their j agged tail, and then crush them between their j aws. Horses 

 and oxen are not seldom met with, which, having fortunately 

 escaped these huge saurians, bear on their limbs the marks of 

 their sharp teeth. 



' This sight,' says Humboldt, ' involuntarily reminds the 

 observer of the great pliability with which nature has endowed 

 several plants and animals. Along with the fruits of Ceres, the 

 horse and the ox have followed man over the whole earth, from 



