ROUTE OF THE GREAT CANAL. 



401 



sun was setting, and the high western headland threw a 

 deep shade over the water. It was perhaps the last 

 time in my life that I should see the Pacific ; and in 

 spite of fever and ague tendencies, I bathed once more 

 in the great ocean. 



It was after dark when I returned to my encamp- 

 ment. My attendants had not been idle ; blazing logs 

 of wood, piled three or four feet high, lighted up the 

 darkness of the forest. We heard the barking of wolves, 

 the scream of the mountain-cat, and other wild beasts 

 of the forest. I wrapped myself in my poncha and lay 

 down to sleep. Nicolas threw more wood upon the 

 burning pile ; and, as he stretched himself on the ground, 

 hoped we would not be obliged to pass another night in 

 this desolate place. 



In the morning I had more trouble. My gray mule 

 running loose, and drinking at every stream, with her 

 girths tight, had raised a swelling eight or ten inches. 

 I attempted to put the cargo on my macho, with the in- 

 tention of walking myself ; but it was utterly impossible 

 to manage him, and I was obliged to transfer it to the 

 raw back of the cargo-mule. 



At seven o'clock we started, recrossed the stream at 

 which we had procured water, and returned to the first 

 station of Mr. Bailey. It was on the Kiver San Juan, a 

 mile and a half from the sea. The river here had suffi- 

 cient depth of water for large vessels, and from this 

 point Mr. Bailey commenced his survey to the Lake of 

 Nicaragua. I sent Nicolas with the mules by the di- 

 rect road, and set out with my guide to follow, as far as 

 practicable, his line of survey. I did not know, until I 

 found myself in this wilderness, how fortunate I had 

 been in securing this guide. He had been Mr. Bailey's 

 pioneer in the whole of his exploration. He was a dark 



Vol. I.— 3 E 



