116 CAMPS IN THE CARIBBEES. 
tired and thirsty. Rapidly we descended, as fast as 
loosened rocks and earth furrowed by the rains ‘would 
allow us, to a shady valley, where a foaming brook 
came down to join the large river that entered the sea 
two miles below. But another sound greeted our 
ears, other than that of water laughing over mossy 
stones; it was the rumbling of loosened rocks and 
rolling of stones caused by the hand of man. We 
stopped to listen, and then Meyong went on ahead. 
He beckoned aid I followed, to see, as I peered over 
the bank, a naked Indian running about in and out 
of the brook; a magnificent man, with brawny shoul- 
ders and long black hair. Just ahead of him was a 
woman, his squaw, clad in a ragged skirt. Both 
were intently searching beneath the stones for some 
object, the man overturning large rocks in his way. 
What was this thing they seemed so eager to find? 
It was not gold, for they do not know it in its virgin 
state. It was something more valuable to them, for 
present needs, a shell-fish for their breakfast and 
supper. The crayfish, the fresh-water lobster, makes 
its home beneath the rocks of the mountain streams. 
Being so excellent, it is much sought by these people, 
who have no guns, no bows nor arrows, and few dogs 
with which to hunt. It is their chief reliance when the 
seas are heavy and they cannot go out in their canoes 
to fish. 
Pressing too near the bank, I dislodged a pebble 
which fell with a splash into the stream. Hardly had 
it touched the water, when, with a wild cry of alarm, 
the startled Indians darted into the forest; we could 
hear them as they ran in their fear, for some minutes. 
At the river we stopped to lunch and drink its pure 
