of an Orchid Hunter. 167 



proceed further on account of the bud state of the 

 river. Knowing that we were in the very middle of 

 the Indian territory, where, if they chose, they could 

 overpower us with numbers any moment, we passed 

 the night somewhat nervously, with a very small fire, 

 but with our rifles loaded, and while three slept the 

 other three kept watch. Nothing happened to us 

 that night, and early in the morning, after breakfast- 

 ing, I started into the forest with four of the men, 

 leaving the other two in ambush to watch the canoe, 

 for fear the Indians should take away our only means 

 of getting back to the Magdalena. I was delighted 

 to find the trees on the rising ground from the banks 

 of the river hung with fine clumps of Miltonia 

 vexillaria, intermixed with Oncidhim CartJiaginensc 

 and several smaller orchids, and I was priding myself 

 upon reaping a glorious harvest. But that night all 

 my plans were destined to be crushed. Everybody 

 was in good spirits at our evening meal, but we had 

 scarcelv finished and lighted our roll of tobacco when 

 the twang of an arrow, as it whistled past my head, 

 startled evervone to his feet. In another moment 

 one of our nu p ' ^ was pierced with three of the 

 deadly poisoned arrows, and mortally wounded. The 

 moon was on the wane, and shed a miserable light 

 for us to shoot by, while the savages could see us 

 perfectly well by the light of our fire. Not a moment 



