DOMINICA. II 
Here I first heard the melody of the “ solitaire.” Long 
since, the air of the town, hot and parching, had given 
place to cool and delicious breezes. We went out 
under the shade of trees, passing many a trickling 
stream, until an elevation of nearly two thousand feet 
was reached, when we heard voices, and suddenly 
came upon a party of mountaineers (half Carib, half 
negro), naked to the waist, hatless, and armed each 
with his machete, or “ cutlass,” over two feet in length. 
They saluted us politely, however, and we passed on 
until near the “high woods,” when we turned to the 
right and rode down a narrow trail under large trees, 
and reached finally a narrow gate of bars in a tall 
hedge of oleander. 
Descending rapidly from the forest was an open 
space of a hundred acres, perhaps, sloping westward, 
green as a sward of guinea-grass could make it. 
Over this were scattered volcanic rocks and clumps 
of trees. This slope terminated abruptly in a cliff so 
steep that the people living here could not descend 
except by a long detour. Over this cliff fell the water- 
fall we saw in coming up. Deep ravines seamed it at 
intervals, all trending toward the valley wall, and on 
all sides but this were nothing but forest and hills. 
From one of the mountaineers I secured a cabin, 
one of the seven comprising this little hamlet, and 
before nightfall had comfortably established myself. 
My companion then left me alone to what proved but , 
the first of many camps in tropical forests. 
