"Probably Domingos is afraid of standing up," said John. Then I remarked this to him. "I am glad the wind is across the river instead of up it, or it would be fearfully dangerous for them."

"Then you do think it is the raft?" I asked.

"I am sure of it," answered John.

We redoubled our efforts. Every instant the object grew clearer and clearer. We could scarcely be deceived.

"Heaven be praised!" exclaimed John; "I see Ellen and Maria, one on each side, and Domingos working away with his paddle at one end. They are trying to come towards us."

I saw them too, and could even make out Nimble, and Toby, and Poll, and Niger. My heart leaped with joy. In a few minutes more we were up to the raft.

"We will not stop to ask questions," exclaimed John, as we got alongside. "Here, Maria; hand me your painter, and we will secure it to ours, and tow you back to the north bank. You must tell us what has happened as we go along."

"Oh, but Arthur! why is Arthur not with you? Has anything happened to him?" exclaimed Ellen.

"No; he is all right," answered John, pointing to the shore.

While he was speaking, we transferred our painter to the stern of the canoe, and secured it as a tow-rope to the raft. We put the canoe's head the way we wished to go, and paddled on. The wind was in our favour; and Domingos, with Ellen and Maria, worked away with their paddles also on the raft. We were exerting ourselves too much to speak. Our dear sister was safe; but yet it was somewhat difficult to restrain our curiosity to know what had occurred. The wind was increasing every moment; and as we neared the shore we saw that there might be some danger of the water washing over the raft should we attempt to land under the bank. I proposed, therefore, that we should steer for the igarape. It was no easy matter, however, to get there, as the current was carrying us down. Domingos tried to urge the raft in the direction we wished to go. The wind continued to increase, and the current swept us further and further to the east. The seas rising, tossed the raft, now on the one side, now on the other; and every moment I dreaded that those on it might be thrown off or washed away. We entreated them to hold on tightly. Even the canoe, though before the wind, was tossed considerably. We could now distinguish our friends on shore watching us anxiously as we approached. Already we had drifted down below them. They were trying to make their way through the forest to follow us.

"We must drift down till we can see some place where we can get on shore with a prospect of safety," observed John.

I agreed with him that it was our only alternative; yet I knew that sometimes for miles together along the banks such a place might not be found. We turned the head of the canoe, however, down the stream, anxiously looking out for a fit spot to land. I dreaded, as I cast a look over my shoulder at the sky, that such a hurricane as we had before encountered was brewing; and if so, our prospect of being saved was small indeed. I saw that Domingos also was casting a glance back at the sky. We could see the tall trees on shore bending before the blast. Every moment our position became more and more perilous. If landing in the daylight was difficult, it would be still more so to get on shore in the dark.

Down the mighty river we floated. The last rays of the sun came horizontally over the waters, tinging the mimic waves with a bright orange hue. Then gradually they assumed a dull, leaden tint, and the topmost boughs of the more lofty trees alone caught the departing light. Still no harbour of refuge appeared. I proposed running in, as the last desperate resource, and scrambling on shore while we could still see sufficiently to find our way.

"We shall lose our goods, and the canoe, and the raft, if we make the attempt," answered John, "and perhaps our lives. We must still try to find a safe place to land at."

We were yet at some distance from the shore, though, driven by the fierce wind, we were rapidly approaching it. The storm increased. Dark clouds were gathering overhead. A bright flash of lightning darted from them, crackling and hissing as it went along the water: another, and another followed. Suddenly, as if a thick mantle had been thrown over us, it became dark, and we could scarcely have distinguished an opening in the forest had one been before us. John was more unwilling than ever to risk landing; and we therefore steered down the river, parallel with the shore, so as to prevent the raft as long as possible from being driven against it.

"Paddle on, Harry!" cried John, with his usual coolness; "we may yet find a harbour of refuge."

We could judge pretty well, by the varying outline of the leafy wall close to us, that we were making rapid way. The wind, too, had shifted more to the west, and drove us therefore still before it. Arthur and our Indian friends would, I knew, be in despair at not seeing us land; while it was certain that they could not keep pace with the raft, as they had to make their way through the tangled forest. Now that darkness had come on, they would probably be compelled to stop altogether.

The wind blew harder. The raft was tossed fearfully about. Another rattling peal of thunder and more vivid flashes of lightning burst from the clouds. Maria shrieked out with terror; while the two monkeys clung to her, their teeth chattering—as alarmed as she was, Ellen afterwards told me. Then again all was silent.

"I am afraid, Harry, we must make the attempt," said John at last. "But the risk is a fearful one. We must tell Ellen, Domingos, and Maria to be prepared.—Be ready, dear Ellen!" cried John. "Hold on tightly; and when I call to you, spring towards me. We must manage by some means to get on shore. Domingos will help Maria. Harry will try to secure the guns and ammunition; our existence may depend upon them. The animals must take care of themselves.—Domingos, are you ready?" he asked, in Spanish.

"Si, si, Senor John. But look there, master; what is that light on shore? It must come from some hut surely, where we may obtain shelter. Let us try to reach the place. Even if there are savages there, they will not refuse to help us."

As he spoke, we observed a bright light bursting forth from among the trees, at a short distance off along the bank. Now it disappeared—now it came again in sight. We paddled down towards it. It was apparently a torch held in a person's hand. We rapidly approached the light, but yet failed to discover any place where we could land with safety. We shouted loudly, hoping to attract the attention of any one who might be near. Presently a hail came off the land. We answered it. Again a voice was heard.

"Can you tell us where we can land with safety?" cried John, in Spanish.

The answer was unintelligible. Presently he asked again in English; and in a little time we saw the light moving along the bank. Then it remained stationary. We exerted ourselves to the utmost to steer for it; and we now saw a division in the wall of trees, which indicated that there was a passage between them. Again the thunder reared, the lightning flashed, and the wind blew with fearful force.

Maria shrieked loudly, "The water is washing over the raft!"

"Hold on! hold on!" cried John; "we shall soon be in safety." And in another minute we were entering the mouth of a narrow channel. "We will turn the canoe round," said John, "and let the raft go first. We may thus prevent it being dashed on the bank."

We did as he advised. Scarcely, however, had we turned the raft round when we found it had reached the shore.

"Do you, Domingos, help the senora and Maria to land!" shouted John.

By the light from the torch we saw a tall figure standing on the bank. He flung the light so that it might fall across us.

"Females!" he exclaimed. "A sorry night to be buffeting with the waves of the Amazon! Give me your hands, whoever you are. I should little have expected to find my countrymen in such a plight in this remote region."

While he was speaking he helped Ellen and Maria up the bank, the two monkeys following, while Poll and Niger clung fast to Maria's shoulders. Faithful True did not attempt to leap on shore, though he could easily have done so, but remained with me in the canoe. Domingos, meantime, was hastily throwing our goods on shore; while we continued exerting ourselves in preventing the raft being lifted by the force of the water and upset on the bank.

"All the things are safely landed," cried Domingos at length.

We then, casting off the tow-rope, paddled round, and ran the bow of the canoe on shore. Not till then did True leap out of her. Domingos and the stranger coming down, helped us to drag her out of the water.

"We may save the raft also," said the latter. "You may require it to continue your voyage; as I conclude you do not intend to locate yourselves here, and compel me to seek another home in the wilderness."

I was struck by the morose tone in which the stranger spoke. He, however, assisted us in dragging up the raft sufficiently high to prevent its being knocked about by the waves, which ran even into the comparatively smooth part of the channel in which we found ourselves.

"We heartily thank you for your assistance," said John. "We owe the preservation of our lives to you; for, with the increasing storm, we could scarcely have escaped destruction had we been driven further down the river."

"You owe me no thanks, young sir. I would have done the same for a party of benighted savages, as you call them," answered the stranger. "Your dumb companions are equally welcome. I am not ill pleased to see them. It speaks in your favour that they follow you willingly, instead of being dragged about with ropes and chains, or confined in cages, as civilised men treat the creatures they pretend to tame. I have, however, but poor shelter to offer you from the deluge which will soon be down on our heads. Follow me; there is no time to be lost."

"But we must not allow our goods to remain out," said John.

"I will assist you, then, to carry them," answered the stranger, lifting up double the number of packages which we usually carried at a time.

We then all loaded ourselves. Ellen insisted on carrying a package, and followed the stranger, who went before us with his torch. We could not even then exchange words, as we had to proceed in single file along a narrow pathway, fringed on either side with thick shrubs—apparently the after-growth of a cleared spot, soon to spring up again into tall trees. We soon found ourselves within the forest, where, so dense was the gloom, that without the torch to guide us we could not have made our way. Its ruddy flame glanced on the trunks of the tall trees, showing a canopy of wide-spreading boughs overhead, and the intricate tracery of the numberless sipos which hung in festoons, or dropped in long threadlike lines from them. Passing for a few yards through a jungle, the boughs spreading so closely above our heads that we often had to stoop, we found ourselves in an open space, in which by the light of the torch we saw a small hut with deep eaves, the gable end turned towards us. It was raised on posts several feet from the ground. A ladder led to a platform or verandah, which projected from the wall of the gable, in which was a small door.

"Here you are welcome to stow your goods and rest for the night," said the stranger. "No human being but myself has ever entered it; for I seek not the society of my fellow-men, either savage or civilised, so-called. To-morrow, if the weather clears, you will, I conclude, proceed on your way; or if you insist on remaining, I must seek another home. Let that be understood, before I make you further welcome. Now, enter, and such accommodation as my hut affords shall be yours."

There was something in the tone of the speaker which, though his dress was rough and strange, made us feel that he was a man of education.

"We cordially thank you, sir," answered John, "and accept your hospitality on the terms you propose; but as a portion of our goods still remain near the river, we would ask you to give us another torch to enable us to fetch them before the rain comes done."

"I will myself accompany you," he answered, "when I have introduced the young people to my abode."

Saying this, he stepped up the ladder, and assisted Ellen and Maria to reach the platform. He then led the way in, and lighted a lamp which stood—we could see through the open door—on a table near it.

"I am sorry I have no better accommodation to offer you," he said, looking at Ellen; "but such as it is, you are welcome to it."

He came down with another torch in his hand, and proceeded with rapid strides back to the river. We had some difficulty in following him. Again he took up a heavy load; and we, dividing the remainder of the goods between us, followed him towards the hut. Ascending the ladder as we reached it, he desired us to hand up the goods, which he carried within. As soon as we were on the platform, he drew up the ladder.

"I always secure myself thus in my fortress at night," he remarked; "and as I have taken means of preventing any snakes crawling up the posts on which it stands, I can sleep more securely than many do in the so-called civilised portion of the globe."

On entering the house, we found that it was larger than we had supposed from its appearance outside. It was divided into two rooms. The outer was fitted up, in somewhat rustic style, as a sitting-room, while we concluded that the inner one was a sleeping-room. Round the walls were arranged shelves, on one of which were a considerable number of books, with a variety of other articles. In one corner was a pile of nets and harpoons, and some spears and other weapons for the chase; in another stood an Indian mill for grinding flour, and several jars and other articles, apparently for preparing or preserving food. Against the walls stood several chests. Though the table was large enough for the whole of us to sit round it, yet there was but one stool, showing that our host, as he had told us, was unaccustomed to receive guests. He, however, pulled the chests forward, and by placing some boards between them, we all found seats.

"If you have not brought provisions, I will supply you while you stay with me," he observed; "but my own consumption is so small that I have but a limited amount to offer you."

"We would not willingly deprive you of that, sir," said John; "and we have enough to last us till we can supply ourselves with more."

"That is fortunate," remarked the recluse. "While your servant gets it ready, I will prepare my room for the young lady and her attendant. I have no cooking-place under shelter, and while the rain is pouring down, as it will begin to do presently, a fire cannot be lighted outside. You must therefore be content with a cold repast."

While the recluse—so I may call him—was absent, we for the first time had an opportunity of asking Ellen what had occurred to drive her and her attendants away from the camp.

"I was indeed unwilling to do so," she said, "till urged by Domingos. He had gone to shoot at a short distance from the hut, when he came hurrying back with a look of alarm, and told me that he had caught sight of some savages making their way through the forest. He insisted that they were trying to find us out, and that our only hope of safety was by instant flight. I pleaded that you would come back, and finding us gone, would fancy we had been carried off or killed. He argued that on your return, finding the raft gone, you would know we had embarked on it. At length he agreed, that if we would assist to carry the goods down to the raft he would again search round the camp, and should the natives appear to be going in a different direction, we might carry them back again. He had not gone long, when he returned with dismay on his countenance, asserting that they were coming towards us, and that if we did not escape we should certainly be killed. You may suppose, my dear brothers, how fearfully agitated I was. I knew how alarmed you would be on returning not to find us, and yet, if we should remain it might be still worse. Domingos and Maria settled the matter by seizing me by the arms, and dragging me to the raft before I had time to write a note or leave any signal. I scarcely thought, indeed, of doing so, till Domingos had pushed the raft off from the bank. I entreated him to go back; but he replied that it was impossible without the risk of being caught by the savages, and began paddling the raft down the channel. I looked back, and seeing no natives, again urged him to return. He replied that he was sure they would lie in ambush to catch us, and that it would be destruction to do so. Feeling that he wished to secure my safety, I could not complain. He did his best, too, to comfort me about you. He said that as you were probably with the friendly natives, you would be defended from the Majeronas; and that by the time you had come back, those he had seen would have gone away, and you would certainly guess that we were not far off. I did my utmost to arouse myself and to assist Maria and him in paddling the raft. The wind was light, the water smooth, and there appeared to be no danger in venturing out into the river. A light wind was in our favour, and he accordingly steered towards the opposite bank, saying that we should be safer there than anywhere else, and might more easily get back than by going down the stream. I looked frequently towards the shore we had left, but still saw no natives. Poor Domingos was evidently anxious about you, though he did his best not to alarm me more than he had done already. We found, after getting some way across, that the current was floating us down much faster than we had expected, and I begged Domingos therefore to return. He insisted that, having got thus far, it was better to continue our course towards the southern bank, and wait there for a favourable wind for getting back. I was thankful when at length we reached a sandy beach, where we could land without difficulty and secure our raft. Domingos fortunately shot a paca, so we had plenty of food; and Maria and I assisted him in putting up a hut. Had I not been so anxious about you, I should have had no cause to complain. They both exerted themselves to the utmost; and I do not think Domingos closed his eyes all night, for whenever I awoke I saw him, through an opening in our hut, walking about or making up the fire. We spent the morning on the bank, watching in the hope of seeing you come to look for us. As soon as the wind changed, I entreated Domingos to put off, and at last, though somewhat unwillingly, he consented to do so; but he blamed himself very much for yielding to my wishes, when the wind began to blow so violently. Had you, indeed, not arrived to assist us, I suspect that our raft would have been in great danger of being overwhelmed."

"We have reason to be thankful, dear Ellen, that you were preserved," said John. "I am very sure Domingos acted for the best. I wish for your sake that our expedition had come to a favourable end, although the rest of us may enjoy it."

"Oh, if it were not for anxiety about papa and mamma, and dear Fanny, and Aunt Martha, I should like it too," said Ellen. "When we once find them, I am sure that I shall enjoy our voyage down the river as much as any of you."

"You are a brave girl," said the stranger, who at that moment returned, "though, perhaps, you scarcely know the dangers you may have to encounter. Yet, after all, they are of a nature more easily overcome than many which your sisters in the civilised regions of the world are called to go through. Here you have only the elements and a few wild beasts to contend with; there, they have falsehood, treachery, evil example, allurements of all sorts, and other devices of Satan, to drag them to destruction."

While we were seated at supper, the rain came down in tremendous torrents, as the recluse had predicted. The strength of his roof was proved, as not a drop found its way through.

"I am protected here," he remarked, "from the heat of the summer months by the leafy bower overhead; while, raised on these poles, my habitation is above the floods in the rainy season. What can man want more? Much in the same way the natives on the Orinoco form their dwellings among the palm-trees; but they trust more to Nature, and, instead of piles, form floating rafts, sufficiently secured to the palm-trees to keep them stationary, but rising and falling as the floods increase or diminish."

I was struck with many of the remarks of our eccentric host, but the more I saw of him the more I was surprised that a man of his information should have thus secluded himself from the world. We had just time to give Ellen an account of our adventures, when he expressed his wish that we should hang up our hammocks, as it was past his usual hour for retiring to rest. This was an operation quickly performed, as we had only to secure them in the usual way to the posts which supported the roof.

"We should not part," said Ellen, somewhat timidly, "without our usual prayer; and we have cause to thank God for our preservation from danger."

The recluse looked at her fixedly. "You are in earnest, I am sure," he muttered. "Pray, young people, do not depart from your usual custom; I will wait for you."

Arthur, I should have said, though the youngest, always led us in prayer. "As he is absent," I remarked to Ellen's request, "I will do so."

"Oh, you have a young chaplain with you," said the recluse; "and what pay does he receive?"

"None at all, sir," answered Ellen. "He is only earnest and good."

"I should like to meet him," said the recluse.

"I hope you may, sir," said Ellen, "if you come with us."

A short prayer was offered up. I spoke with the earnestness I felt. Ellen then read a portion of Scripture from the Bible she had always at hand in her trunk. Our host listened attentively, his eyes fixed on our young sister. I had not observed a copy of the blessed Book on his shelves. He made no remark, however, on the subject, but I thought his tone was less morose than before.

We were soon in our hammocks, a small oil lamp, which was kept burning on the table, throwing a subdued light through the chamber. True, I should have said, from our first meeting with the stranger, had eyed him askance, having apparently some doubts as to his character. He now came and coiled himself up in his usual position under my hammock. He had kept as far off from him as he could during the evening, and did not seem satisfied till the tall figure of the recluse was stretched out in his hammock near the entrance of the hut. The rain pattering overhead, and splashing down on the soft ground round us, kept me for some time awake. It ceased at length, and soon afterwards, just as I was dropping off to sleep, a chorus of hideous sounds commenced, coming apparently from no great distance in the forest. Now they resembled the cries and groans of a number of people in distress. Now it seemed as if a whole troop of jaguars were growling and snarling over their prey. Now it seemed as if a company of Brobdignag cats were singing a serenade. Now the sounds for a moment ceased, but were instantly taken up again by other creatures at a distance. After a time, the same sounds recommenced in another quarter. Had I not already been well accustomed to similar noises, I might have fancied that we had got into some forest haunted by evil spirits bewailing their lost condition. I was sufficiently awake, however, to guess that they proceeded only from troops of howling monkeys, though we had never yet heard them so near, or in such numbers. In spite of the hideous concert, I at last fell asleep.

The voice of our host aroused us at daybreak. "As soon as you have broken your fast, I will accompany you to find your companions," he said, "unless you desire to proceed by water. In that case, you will scarcely meet them; but I would advise you to leave your canoe and raft here, as I can conduct you through the forest by the only open paths which exist, and by which alone they can make their way in this direction. I am afraid, unless they had their wits about them, they must have been exposed to the tempest last night, and may be but ill able to travel far this morning."

John at once decided to go by land, as the canoe was not large enough to convey all our party. The recluse looked at Ellen. "She will scarcely be able to undergo the fatigue of so long a walk," he remarked. "If she wishes it, she and her attendant can remain here, while we go to meet your companions; and you can then return and remove your property, or leave it till you can find the means of continuing your voyage. I did not purpose to allow my solitude to be thus broken in on; but,"—and he looked again at Ellen—"she reminds me of days gone by, and I cannot permit her to be exposed to more trials than are necessary."

John thanked him for his proposal, though Ellen seemed unwilling to remain behind. We also did not like to leave her. At last John suggested that Domingos should remain also. The recluse pressed the point with more warmth than I should have expected, and at last Ellen agreed to do as was proposed. She was certainly better off in a well-built hut than she had been for some time, and strange and eccentric as the recluse appeared, still we felt that he was disposed to assist us to the best of his power.

Our early breakfast over, John and I, shouldering our rifles, followed by True, set off with the recluse. Ellen looked rather sad as we were going.

"You will find poor Arthur? I know you will," she said in a low voice to me. "I thought of him a great deal last night, out in the fierce tempest, with only two young Indians to assist him; and he is not so strong as you are, and has no gun to defend himself. I could not help thinking of fierce jaguars roaming in search of prey, or those dreadful boas, or the anacondas we have heard of."

"Oh, drive all such thoughts from your mind, Ellen," I answered. "Arthur, if not so strong, has plenty of sense and courage; and, depend upon it, the Indians will have found some hollow tree, or will have built a hut for themselves, in which they would have taken shelter during the night. I should not have minded changing places with Arthur. It is all right. We will bring him back safe enough."

With these words I hurried after John and the recluse. We had not gone far, when I saw them looking up into a tree. True darted forward and began to bark, when, in return, a chorus of terrific barks, howls, and screeches proceeded from the higher branches, and there I saw seated a group of several large monkeys with long tails and most hideous faces. Every instant they threw up their heads, and the fearful sounds I had heard issued forth from them. I could scarcely suppose that animals of such a size could make so much noise.

"You have there some of my friends who serenaded you last night," observed the recluse, when, after a few minutes, the monkeys ceased howling. "These are the mycetes, or ursine howlers. The creature is called in this country araguato, and sometimes by naturalists the alouatte. It is known also as 'the preacher.' If he could discourse of sin and folly, and point out to benighted man the evil of his ways, he might howl to some purpose but his preaching is lost on the denizens of the forest, who know nothing of sin, and are free from the follies of the world. Observe that with how little apparent difficulty he gives forth that terrific note. It is produced by a drum-shaped expansion of the larynx. The hyoid bone, which in man is but slightly developed, is in these monkeys very large. It gives support to the tongue, being attached to the muscles of the neck. The bony drum communicates with the wind-pipe, and enables them to utter those loud sounds."

Had Arthur been with us, I am sure we should have indulged in a hearty laugh at the curious faces of those thick-jawed creatures as they looked down upon us inquisitively to ascertain what we were about. They were considerably larger than any we had seen; indeed, the howler is the largest monkey in the New World. The fur is of a rich bay colour, and as the sun fell upon the coats of some of them above us, they shone with a golden lustre. The thick beard which hung from the chin and neck was of a deeper hue than the body. Our friend told us that those he had caught were generally about three feet long, and that their tails in addition were of even greater length. We went on without disturbing the assemblage in their aerial seat, greatly to True's disappointment, who would evidently have liked to measure his strength with one of them. Like the spider monkeys, they live entirely in trees, making good use of their long tails as they move about from branch to branch; indeed, the tail serves the howler for another hand. When by any chance he descends to the ground, he moves along very awkwardly, and can easily be caught, as we afterwards discovered.

Our new acquaintance was but little inclined to talk; indeed, had he been so, we could seldom have enjoyed much conversation, as we were compelled in most places to follow him in Indian file. Now and then he had to use his hatchet to clear the path, and we very frequently had to force our way by pressing aside the branches which met in front of us. Still he went on without wavering for a moment, or appearing doubtful of the direction he should take. After going on some way further, he again stopped, and pointed to a tree, the branch of which rose a few feet off. I knew by the way True barked that some creature was there; and looking more narrowly, I observed some animals clinging to the lower branches, but so nearly did they resemble the bark to which they were holding, that had they not been pointed out to me I should have passed them by. The animals turned listless glances at us, and seemed in no way disposed to move.

"There," observed the recluse, "are creatures in every way adapted to the mode of life which they are doomed to lead. Place them in any other, and they will be miserable. You see there the ai, or three-toed sloth (the Bradypus torquatus). Though its arms, or fore-legs more properly, are nearly twice as long as the hinder ones, it finds them exactly suited for climbing the trees on which it lives. Place it on the ground, and it cannot get along. It passes its life, not above, but under the branches. When moving along, it suspends itself beneath them; when at rest, it hangs from them; and it sleeps clutching them with its strong claws, and its back hanging downwards."

One of the creatures was hanging as our friend described; the other was on its way up the tree. It stopped on seeing us approach, and turned its round short head, with deeply sunk eyes and a large nose, to look at us. The animals had long powerful claws on all their feet. The hair was very coarse and shaggy, more like grass or moss than anything else.

"The sloth suckles its young like other quadrupeds," observed our friend; "and I have often seen the female, with her little one clinging to her, moving at a rate through the forest which shows that the sloth does not properly deserve its name. See now—give a shout—and then say if it is too sluggish to more."

John and I shouted together, and True barked loudly. The sloths gave reproachful glances at us for disturbing them, and then began to move away at a speed which an active sailor running up the rigging of a ship could scarcely equal. In a short time, slinging themselves from branch to branch, they had disappeared in the depths of the forest.

"Let them go," observed our friend. "You do not want a meal, or you would find their flesh supply you with one not to be disdained." The last remark was made as we again moved on. Once more we relapsed into silence. When, however, a bird, or moth, or any creature appeared, our guide stopped for an instant, and turning round, told us its name and habits. We passed several curious trees, one of which he pointed out rising from the ground in numerous stalks, which then united in a thick stem, and afterwards, half-way up, bulged out in a long oval, again to narrow, till at the summit six or eight branches, with palm-like formed leaves, spread forth, forming a graceful crown to the curious stem. He called it the Iriartes ventricosa, or bulging-stemmed palm. Again we passed through a grove of urucuri palms (Attalea excelsa). Their smooth columnar stems were about forty or fifty feet in height, while their broad, finely pinnated leaves interlocked above, and formed arches and woven canopies of varied and peculiarly graceful shapes. High above them rose the taller forest trees, whose giant branches formed a second canopy to shade them from the glaring rays of the sun. Many of the trees rose eighty feet without a branch, their stems perfectly straight. Huge creepers were clinging round them, sometimes stretching obliquely from their summits, like the stays of a ship's mast. Others wound round their trunks, like huge serpents ready to spring on their prey. Others, again twisted spirally round each other, forming vast cables of living wood, holding fast those mighty monarchs of the forest. Some of the trees were so covered with smaller creepers and parasitic plants that the parent stem was entirely concealed. The most curious trees were those having buttresses projecting from their bases. The lower part of some of them extended ten feet or more from the base of the tree, reaching only five or six feet up the trunk. Others again extended to the height of fully thirty feet, and could be seen running up like ribs to a still greater height. Some of these ribs were like wooden walls, several inches in thickness, extended from the stem, so as to allow room for a good-sized hut to be formed between them by merely roofing over the top. Again, I remarked other trees ribbed and furrowed for their whole height. Occasionally these furrows pierced completely through the trunks, like the narrow windows of an ancient tower. There were many whose roots were like those of the bulging palm, but rising much higher above the surface of the ground. The trees appeared to be standing on many-legged pedestals, frequently so far apart from each other that we could without difficulty walk beneath them. A multitude of pendants hung from many of the trees, some like large wild pine-apples, swinging in the air. There were climbing arums, with dark-green arrow-head shaped leaves; huge ferns shot out here and there up the stems to the topmost branches. Many of the trees had leaves as delicately cut as those of the graceful mimosa, while others had large palmate leaves, and others, again, oval glossy ones.

Now and then, as I looked upwards, I was struck with the finely-divided foliage strongly defined against the blue sky, here and there lighted up by the bright sunshine; while, in the region below through which we moved, a deep gloom prevailed, adding grandeur and solemnity to the scene. There were, however, but few flowers; while the ground on which we walked was covered with dead leaves and rotten wood, the herbage consisting chiefly of ferns and a few grasses and low creeping plants.

We stopped at last to lunch, and while John and I were seated on the branch of a fallen tree, our friend disappeared. He returned shortly, with his arms full of large bunches of a round juicy berry. "Here," he said, "these will quench your thirst, and are perfectly wholesome." We found the taste resembling that of grapes. He called it the puruma. We were too eager to find Arthur to rest long, and were once more on our journey.

"From the account you gave me, I hope we may soon meet with your friends," observed the recluse, "unless they have turned back in despair of finding you."

"Little fear of that," I observed. "I am sure Arthur will search for us as long as he has strength to move."

Still we went on and on, and Arthur did not appear; and we asked our companion whether he did not think it possible that our friends might have tried to make their way along the bank of the river.

"No," he answered, "the jungle is there too thick; and if we find signs of their having made the attempt, we shall speedily overtake them; for though we have made a considerable circuit, they by this time could scarcely have progressed half a mile even with the active employment of sharp axes."

This somewhat comforted me; for notwithstanding what the recluse said, I felt nearly certain that Arthur would attempt to examine the whole length of the bank, in hopes of discovering what had become of us. We went on and on till we entered a denser part of the forest, where we were compelled to use our axes before we could get through. At length I caught sight through an opening of what looked like a heap of boughs at a distance. The recluse, quickening his pace, went on towards it. We eagerly followed. It was a hut roughly built. Extinguished embers of a fire were before it. We looked in eagerly. It was empty, but there were leaves on the ground, and dry grass, as if people had slept there. It had been, there was little doubt, inhabited by Arthur and his companions. It was just such a hut as they would have built in a hurry for defence against the storm. But what had become of them?

"I believe you are right," said the recluse at last, having examined the bushes round; "they certainly attempted to make their way along the bank. I trust no accident has happened to them, for in many places it is undermined by the waters, and after rain suddenly gives way." These remarks somewhat alarmed me. "This is the way they have taken, at all events," he added; "though they have managed to creep under places we might find some difficulty in passing." Again he led the way, clearing the path occasionally with his axe. We were close to the edge of the river, though so thickly grew the tangled sipos and the underwood that we could only occasionally get glimpses of it. As we went along we shouted out frequently, in hopes that Arthur might hear us.

"Your friend and his companions have laboured hard to get through this dense jungle," he observed, "but we shall soon overtake them."

Still on and on we went, now and then having to turn aside, being unable otherwise to force our way onwards. We at length, on returning to the river, found below us a sand-bank, which extended for some distance along it.

"Here are the marks of their feet!" exclaimed John, who had leaped down on it. "See the way they are turned! We shall soon overtake them."

This discovery restored my spirits, for I had begun to fear that after all, unable to get along, they had turned back. We hastened forward along the bank, but the sand was very soft, and walking on it was almost as fatiguing as through the forest; while the heat from the sun striking down on it was intense. Climbing up the bank once more, we proceeded through the forest. We went on a short distance, when we found ourselves in more open ground—that is to say, we could get on without the use of our axes. We continued shouting out, and every now and then making our way to the bank as before.

"Hark!" said John, "I hear a cry. See! there are natives coming towards us. Yes; I believe they are the two young Indians."

"They are Indians," remarked our guide. "They are beckoning us. We will hasten on."

In another minute we saw Duppo and Oria running towards us. They kept crying out words that I did not understand. As soon as they saw the recluse they hurried to him, and took his hands, as if they knew him well.

"They tell me your young friend is ill," he remarked. "They have left him a little further on, close to the water, where, it seems, unable to proceed, he fainted. They entreat me to hasten on lest he should die. They fancy I can do everything, having occasionally cured some of their people of slight diseases."

As he said this he allowed himself to be dragged forward by Duppo and his sister, who, in their eagerness, seemed scarcely to have recognised us. The ground over which we were proceeding was somewhat swampy, and sloped down to a small lagoon or inlet of the river. John and I followed as fast as we could at the heels of our guide. Presently he stopped, and uttering an exclamation, threw aside the hands of the young Indians and dashed forward. We followed, when, what was our horror to see, under a grove of mimosa bushes, Arthur in the grasp of a huge serpent, which had wound its coils round his body. I shrieked with dismay, for I thought he was dead. He moved neither hand nor foot, seemingly unconscious of what had occurred. The recluse dashed forward. John and I followed with our axes, and True went tearing boldly on before us. It was an anaconda. Already its huge mouth was open to seize our young companion. Without a moment's hesitation the recluse sprang at the monster, and seizing its jaws with a power I should scarcely have supposed he possessed, wrenched them back, and held them fast in spite of the creature's efforts to free itself. "Draw him out!" shouted the recluse; and John, seizing Arthur, drew him forth from amid the vast coils, while I with my axe struck blow after blow at its body and tail. The recluse did not let go his hold, although the creature, unwinding its tail, threatened to encircle him in its coils. Now it seemed as if it would drag him to the ground, but he recovered his feet, still bending back the head till I could hear the bones cracking. I meantime had been hacking at its tail, and at length a fortunate blow cut it off. John, placing Arthur at a little distance, came back to our assistance, and in another minute the reptile lay dead at our feet, when True flew at it and tore away furiously at its body.

"Your young friend has had a narrow escape," said the recluse, as he knelt down and took Arthur's hand; "he breathes, though, and is not aware of what has happened, for the anaconda must have seized him while he was unconscious."

We ran to the river. The dry shells of several large nuts lay near. In these we brought some water, and bathed Arthur's brow and face. "He seems unhurt by the embrace of the anaconda," remarked the recluse, "but probably suffered from the heat of the sun."

After this he lifted Arthur in his arms, and bore him up the bank. John and I followed with a shell of water. The contrast between the hot sandy bank and the shady wood was very great. As we again applied the water, Arthur opened his eyes. They fell on the recluse, on whom he kept them steadily fixed with a look of surprise.

"I thought John and Harry were with me," he murmured out. "I heard their voices calling as I lay fainting on the bank."

"Yes; we are here," John and I said, coming forward. "Duppo and his sister met us, and brought us to you."

"I am so glad," he said in a low voice. "I began to fear that you were really lost, we wandered on so far without finding you. I felt ready to die too, I was so sick at heart. And your sister—is she safe?" he asked. "Oh yes; I am sure you would look more sad if she were not."

"Yes, she is safe and well, Arthur," I said; "and we must take you there to be nursed, or, if it is too far to carry you, we must build a hut somewhere near here, where we can join you."

The stranger looked at Arthur, and murmured something we did not hear.

"It is a long way to carry the lad," he said; "though if I had him in my hut I would watch over him."

"Perhaps it may be better to build a hut at the spot we proposed, and bring our sister and goods to it," I said.

"No; I will take the lad to mine," answered the recluse. "You can build a hut as you proposed, and when he has recovered I will bring him to you."

I was very glad to hear this, because I was afraid that Arthur might suffer unless we could get him soon placed in a comfortable hammock, and give him better food than we should be able to prepare without our cooking apparatus.

"I am ready to go on whenever you wish it," observed Arthur, who heard the discussion; "but I am afraid I cannot walk very fast."

"I will carry you then," said the recluse; "but it will be better to form a litter, on which you can rest more at your ease. We will soon get one ready."

Duppo and Oria stood by watching us eagerly while we spoke, as if they were anxious to know what we were saying.

"You stay with your young friend, while your brother and I prepare the litter," said the recluse to me, replacing Arthur on the ground.

I sat down by his side, supporting him. He did not allude to the anaconda, and, I suspected, was totally unconscious of the danger he had been in. While the recluse and John were cutting down some poles to form the litter, Duppo and his sister collected a number of long thin sipos, showing that they understood what we proposed doing. In a short time the litter was completed. John and I insisted on carrying it, though we had some difficulty in persuading the recluse to allow us to do so. He spoke for some time to Duppo and his sister, who looked greatly disconcerted and sad.

"I was telling them that they must go and find their people," he said, "and that they must build a house for you on the spot you selected. They will be true friends to you, as they have ever been to me. I advise you to cultivate their friendship by treating them with kindness and respect."

The young Indians seemed very unwilling to take their departure, and lingered some time after we had wished them good-bye. John and I took up the litter, on which Arthur had been placed. As we had already cut a road for ourselves, we were able to proceed faster than we did when before passing through the forest. We hurried on, for the sun had begun to sink towards the west, and we might be benighted before we could reach the hermit's abode.

We proceeded by the way we had come. After we had gone some distance, Arthur begged that he might be put down and allowed to walk. "I am sure I have strength enough, and I do not like to see you carry me," he said. Of this, however, we would not hear, and continued on.

At last we sat down to rest. The spot we had chosen was a pleasant one. Though shaded, it was sufficiently open to allow the breeze to circulate through it. Round us, in most directions, was a thick jungle. We had brought some water in a shell of one of the large nuts, and after Arthur had drunk some, we induced him to take a little food, which seemed greatly to revive him. We were seated round the contents of our wallets, John and I, at all events, feeling in much better spirits than we had been in the morning; even the recluse threw off some of his reserve. We took the opportunity of telling him of our anxiety about our parents, and of the uncertainty we felt whether they had passed down the river. He in return asked us further questions, and seemed interested in our account.

"I may be of use to you," he said at length, "by being able to make inquiries among the Indians on the river, who would probably have observed them should they have passed; but promises are so often broken, that I am ever unwilling to make them. Therefore, I advise you to trust to your own exertions," he added.

We were on the point of again taking up Arthur to proceed, when a loud sound of crashing branches was heard in the distance. It seemed as if a hurricane was sweeping through the forest. It came nearer and nearer.

"Oh I what can it be?" cried Arthur. "Leave me and save yourselves. It seems as if the whole forest was falling."

The crashing increased. Boughs seemed broken off, shrubs trampled under foot. Presently we saw, bearing down upon as, a large dark-skinned creature, though its form could scarcely be distinguished amid the foliage.

"Stand fast!" said the recluse. "It will not harm you. See! it has an enemy to contend with."

As the creature drew nearer, I saw that it bore on its back a huge jaguar, distinguished by its spotted hide and its fierce glaring eyes. Its jaws were fixed in the creature's neck, to which it clung also with its sharp claws.

"The animal is a tapir," said the recluse. "I am not certain yet though whether the jaguar will conquer it. See, the back of the latter is bleeding and torn from the rough branches beneath which the tapir has carried it."

As he spoke, the animals came close to us, the tapir making for the thick branch of a fallen tree kept up by a network of sipos, which hung like a beam almost horizontally a few feet from the ground. The tapir dashed under it, and we could hear the crash of the jaguar's head as it came in contact with the hard wood. Still it clung on, but its eyes had lost their fierce glare. Blood covered the backs of the animals, and the next moment the jaguar fell to the ground, where it lay struggling faintly. Twice it tried to rise, but fell back, and lay apparently dead.

John had lifted his rifle to fire at the tapir. "Hold!" said the recluse; "let the victor go; he deserves his liberty for having thus sagaciously liberated himself from his tormentor. Would that we could as easily get rid of ours! How eagerly we should seek the lower branches of the trees!" He gave one of those peculiar, sarcastic laughs, which I observed he was apt to indulge in.

We cautiously approached the jaguar, feeling uncertain whether it might not yet rise up and spring at us. John and I kept our rifles at its head, while True went boldly up towards it. He had been an excited spectator of the scene, and I had some difficulty in keeping him from following the tapir. The jaguar did not move. Even a poke with the muzzle of my rifle failed to arouse it. True began to tear away at its neck; and at length we were convinced that the savage creature was really dead. "There let him lie," said the recluse. "Strong as he was a few moments ago, he will be food for the armadillos before morning."

We again lifted up Arthur, and proceeded onwards, the recluse leading and clearing away the branches which might have injured Arthur as we passed between them. Of course we now required a broader passage than when we came through ourselves. We took exactly the same route; our guide never faltering for a moment, though in many places I should have had difficulty, where the marks of our axes were not to be seen, in finding the road. Several times he offered to take my place, observing that I might be tired; but John and I begged him to allow us to carry our young friend, as we did not like to impose the task on him. Thus we went on till my arms and shoulders began to ache, but I determined not to give in. Arthur had not spoken for some time. I looked at his face. It was very pale, and his eyes were closed. I was afraid he had received more injury from the fearful serpent than we had at first supposed. We hurried on, for it was evidently very important that he should as soon as possible be attended to. We did not stop, therefore, a moment to rest. Thinking that he would not hear me, I expressed my fears to John. "Oh no, no," said Arthur; "I do not feel so very ill. I wish you would put me down, for I am sure you must be tired."

I was greatly relieved when I heard him speak; at the same time his voice was so weak, that we were unwilling to do as he begged us. It was getting late, too, as we could judge by the increasing gloom in the forest. Looking up through the occasional openings in the dark-green canopy above our heads, we could see the sky, which had now become of the intensest shade of blue. A troop of allouattes commenced a concert, their unmusical howlings echoing through the forest. Numerous macaws passed above us, giving vent to strange harsh cries; while whole families of parrots screamed in various notes. Cicadas set up the most piercing chirp, becoming shriller and shriller, till it ended in a sharp screeching whistle. Other creatures—birds, beasts, and insects—added their voices to the concert, till the whole forest seemed in an uproar. As the sky grew darker, and the shades of night came thickly round us, the noises gradually ceased, but were soon succeeded by the drumming, hoohooing, and the croaking of the tree-frogs, joined occasionally by the melancholy cries of the night-jar. "Follow me closely," said the recluse, "and step as high as you can, not to catch your feet in the tangled roots. My eyes are well accustomed to this forest-gloom, and I will lead you safely."

At length we found ourselves passing through a narrow passage between thick bushes, which reminded us of the approach to the recluse's hut. Emerging from it, we saw light ahead, and now reached the steps which led to the verandah.

"You have come on well," he observed. "I will carry up your young friend. Leave the litter on the ground."

I had to stop and assist up True, for although he made several attempts to mount the ladder by himself, it was somewhat too high for him to succeed. On entering the hut I found Ellen, in a state of agitation, leaning over Arthur.

"Oh! what has happened?" she asked. "Will he die? Will he die?"

"I trust not, young lady," remarked our host. "He wants rest and careful nursing, and I hope in a few days will have recovered. I will now attend to him, and afterwards leave him under your care."

"Do not be alarmed, Miss Ellen," whispered Arthur. "I only fainted from the hot sun and anxiety about you all. Now I am with you, I shall soon get well."

"As I have by me a store of medicines, with which I have doctored occasionally the poor natives, I can find, I hope, some remedies which may help to restore your friend," observed the recluse. "Rest is what he chiefly now requires."

Arthur was put into his hammock, and after he had taken a mess which Maria had prepared, fell asleep.



CHAPTER TWELVE.

THE RECLUSE—MORE ADVENTURES IN THE FOREST.

Three days passed away, and Arthur had almost recovered. We none of us had liked to ask the recluse any questions about himself, and he had given us no information as to who he was, where he had come from, or how long he had lived in that secluded spot. He had merely told us that he was English, and he certainly seemed from his conversation to be a man of education. He made no inquiries about us, though he listened from politeness, apparently, rather than from any interest he took in the matter, to the account we gave him of our adventures. One thing was very evident, that, though he bore with our society, he would rather be left alone to his usual solitude.

I awoke early the following morning, and found John already on foot. He proposed going down to the igarape to bathe, and asked me to accompany him. Our host, we found, had already left the hut. Arthur was asleep, so we would not disturb him. Domingos also had gone out, and we concluded had accompanied the recluse to obtain provisions, as he had taken with him a couple of baskets which usually hung on the wall at the entrance of the hut. At all events, they were not there when we looked for them. Taking our guns, we proceeded as we proposed. The rays of the rising sun came through the few openings among the tall trees, their light flashing on the wings of the gorgeous butterflies and still more brilliant plumage of several humming-birds, which flitted here and there amid the opening in the forest.

There was a sandy spot where we thought that we could venture into the water, without the risk of being seized by an alligator or anaconda. We were making our way towards it, when we caught sight of a small canoe, in which a man, whom we at once recognised as the recluse, was seated. He was paddling slowly up the igarape. We watched him for some time, till he was lost to sight among the thick foliage which lined the banks. We naturally concluded that he was merely taking a morning excursion, perhaps to fish or bathe, and expected to see him again at breakfast.

While John took a bath, I stood by and beat the water with a long pole, to frighten away any alligator which might be near, and he performed the same office for me—a very necessary precaution, from the number of the huge reptiles which swarm in all the rivers.

Much refreshed, we returned to the hut. We waited for the recluse some time before beginning breakfast, which Maria had prepared; but he did not appear, nor did Domingos. We all agreed that we ought no longer to impose our society on our strange friend. The first thing to be done was to build a canoe, but we had not found a tree in the neighbourhood of the hut exactly suited to our purpose.

"We may perhaps discover one near the place at which we landed the other day, and we may get our Indian friends to help us to build a canoe," I observed. "Or it is possible that they may have recovered some of theirs, and be ready to sell one of them to us."

"Then the sooner we find them out the better," observed John.

"I wonder Duppo and his sister, or some of the other Indians, have not come here to look for us," said Arthur. "I thought Duppo, at all events, would have shown more regard for us."

"Perhaps the recluse has taught them not to visit his hut without his leave," I remarked. "They seem to hold him in great respect."

While I was speaking Domingos appeared at the door, with his baskets loaded with fruit, vegetables, and birds—chiefly parrots and toucans of gay plumage. He gave a note to John, which he had received, he said, from the strange senor early in the morning.

"I will not conceal from you that I have departed greatly from my accustomed habits in affording you an asylum," it ran. "If you wish it you can remain, but I desire to be once more alone, and can find a home elsewhere till you take your departure. I have communicated with your Indian friends, and they will assist you in building a lodge more suitable for you than this, in the situation you first selected. A party of them will appear shortly to convey your goods; and they will also construct a montaria of a size sufficient for you to continue your voyage. I will, in the meantime, institute inquiries about your missing friends, and, should I hear tidings of them, will send you word. I beg that you will return me no thanks, nor expect to see me. The life of solitude upon which your appearance has broken I desire to resume, and it will therefore cause me annoyance should you attempt to seek me. Accept such good wishes as a wretched outcast can venture to end."

This strange note caused us much regret. "He is so kind and gentle, in spite of the strange way he sometimes expresses himself, that I should grieve not to see him again, and thank him," said Arthur. "Do you not think we could leave a note, asking him to let us come and visit him before we go away altogether? Surely he would not refuse that."

"I am afraid, from the tenor of his note, it would be of no use," said John; "but if you wish it you can do so; and it will show him, at all events, that we are not ungrateful for his kindness."

We waited all day in expectation of the arrival of the Indians, but no one appeared. John went out, and shot some birds and a couple of monkeys. In our rambles, which were further than we had yet been, we came upon a cleared space containing a plantation of bananas, maize, and several edible roots; and, from the neat and scientific way in which the ground was cultivated, we had little doubt it belonged to the stranger; indeed, from the supplies he had brought us, notwithstanding his first remark, we had suspected that he was not without the means of supporting himself with vegetable food. Although he had allowed us to cook the animals we killed, we had remarked that he did not touch any of the meat himself.

Early next morning, as I was standing on the verandah, True poked his nose forward and began to bark. I thought he had seen some animal in the woods, and got my gun ready to fire at it, when I caught sight of a figure emerging from the narrow path of which I have spoken, and, greatly to my satisfaction, I recognised Duppo. As soon as he saw us he ran forward. I went down to meet him. He took my hand, and, by his action, and the gleam of satisfaction which passed over his impassive countenance, showed the satisfaction he felt at again being with us. He then made signs that others were coming, and soon afterwards a party of eight Indians, with his father at their head, made their appearance. Maono gravely saluted John and I, and signified that his men had come to convey our property to another place. Duppo asked whether any of us would like to return in the canoe. We agreed that it would be a good plan for Arthur and Ellen to do so.

"Oh, let me go through the woods," exclaimed Ellen; "I should like to see the country."

"But then, who is to look after Arthur? He is not fit to walk so far yet," said John.

"Oh, then I will go and take care of him," answered Ellen.

It was finally arranged that Maono and Duppo should paddle the canoe, and look after Ellen and Arthur. They formed a sufficiently large freight for the little craft. The Indians now shouldered our goods, each man taking a load twice as heavy as any one of us could have carried, although much less than our Napo peons had conveyed down to the river. Before starting, Arthur wrote the note he had proposed to the recluse, and left it on the table. We could not help feeling sorry at leaving that shady little retreat. At the same time, there was no chance while remaining there of obtaining tidings of our family. Having handed Ellen and Arthur into the canoe, with Nimble, and Ellen's other pets, we watched her for some minutes as Maono paddled her along the shore, which presented as far as we could see one wall of tall trees of varied forms rising almost from the water. "We shall meet again soon," exclaimed Ellen as she waved an adieu. "Who knows what adventures we shall have to recount to each other!" We could not tear ourselves from the spot while the canoe remained in sight. As soon as she disappeared we hurried after the Indians. Domingos and Maria had gone on with them. We walked on rapidly, fully expecting, as they had loads, that we should quickly overtake them. John was a little ahead of me, when suddenly I saw him take a tremendous leap along the path. I was wondering what sudden impulse had seized him, when I heard him exclaim, "Look out, Harry I see that creature;" and there I observed stretched across the path, a big ugly-looking serpent. I sprang back, holding True, who would have unhesitatingly dashed at the dangerous reptile. It was nearly six feet in length, almost as thick as a man's leg, of a deep brown above, pale yellow streaks forming a continued series of lozenge-shaped marks down the back, growing less and less distinct as they descended the sides, while it had a thin neck, and a huge flat head, covered with small scales.

As we had our guns ready, we did not fear it. It seemed disinclined to move, and, had it not lifted up its tail, we might have supposed it dead. We soon recognised, by the shape of the point, the fearful rattlesnake;—fearful it would be from its venomous bite, had not the rattle been fixed to it to give notice of its approach. We threw sticks at it, but still it did not seem inclined to move. Again it lifted up its horny tail, and shook its rattle. "Take care," cried John; "keep away." The serpent had begun to glide over the ground, now looking at one of us, now at the other, as if undecided at which it should dart. I took John's advice, and quickly retreated. He fired, and shattered the reptile's head. As it still moved slowly, I finished it with a blow of my stick.

As it would have been inconvenient to drag after us, we cut off the tail, that we might examine it at leisure. We found that the rattle was placed with the broad part perpendicular to the body. The last joint was fastened to the last vertebra of the tail by means of a thick muscle, as well as by the membranes which united it to the skin. The remaining joints were so many extraneous bodies, as it were, unconnected with the tail, except by the curious way in which they were fitted into each other. It is said that these bony rings or rattles increase in number with the age of the animal, and on each casting of the skin it acquires an additional one. The tip of every uppermost bone runs within two of the bones below it. By this means they not only move together, but also multiply the sound, as each bone hit against two others at the same time.

They are said only to bite when provoked or when they kill their prey. For this purpose they are provided with two kinds of teeth,—the smaller, which are placed in each jaw, and serve to catch and retain their food: and the fangs, or poisonous teeth, which are placed without the upper jaw. They live chiefly upon birds and small animals. It is said that when the piercing eye of the rattlesnake is fixed on an animal or bird they are so terrified and astonished that they are unable to escape. Birds, as if entranced, unwillingly keeping their eyes fixed on those of the reptile, have been seen to drop into its mouth. Smaller animals fall from the trees and actually run into the jaws open to receive them. Fatal as is the bite of the rattlesnake to most creatures, the peccary attacks and eats the reptile without the slightest hesitation; as, indeed, do ordinary hogs,—and even when bitten they do not suffer in the slightest degree.

This encounter with the rattlesnake having delayed us for a little time, we hurried on as rapidly as we could to overtake our companions. We had gone some distance, and still had not come up with them. I began to be afraid that we had turned aside from the right path. In some places even our eyes had distinguished the marks of those who had gone before us. We had now lost sight of them altogether, and as the wood was tolerably open, and the axes had not been used, we could only judge by the direction of the sun how to proceed.

We went on for some time, still believing ourselves in the right direction; but at last, when we expected to find the marks of the axes which we had before made, we could discover none. We searched about— now on one side, now on the other. The forest, though dense, was yet sufficiently open to enable us to make our way in a tolerably direct line. Now and then we had to turn aside to avoid the thick mass of creepers or the fallen trunk of some huge tree. We shouted frequently, hoping that Domingos and the Indians might hear us. Then John suggested that they, finding it an easy matter to follow the right track, did not suppose we could lose it. At last we grew tired of shouting, and agreed that we should probably fall in with the proper track by inclining somewhat to the right; and I had so much faith also in True's sagacity that I had hopes he would find it. However, I gave him more credit than he deserved. He was always happy in the woods, like a knight-errant in search of adventures, plenty of which he was indeed likely to meet with.

Still in the belief that we were not far wrong in our course, we walked briskly forward. We had gone some distance, when True made towards the decayed trunk of a huge tree, and began barking violently. While we were still at a considerable distance, a large hairy creature rose up before us. True stood his ground bravely, rushing now on one side, now on the other, of the animal. It had an enormous bushy tail, curled up something like that of a squirrel, but with a great deal more hair, and looked fully eight feet in length. As we drew nearer we saw that it had also an extraordinary long snout. It seemed in no degree afraid of True, and he evidently considered it a formidable antagonist. Presently it lifted itself up on its hind legs, when True sprang back just in time to avoid a gripe of its claws. Still the creature, undaunted by our appearance, made at him, when, seeing that he was really in danger, John and I rushed forward. We then discovered the creature to be a huge ant-eater, which, though it had no teeth, was armed with formidable claws, with which it would inevitably have killed my brave dog had it caught him. A shot in the head from John's rifle laid it dead.

It was covered with long hair, the prevailing colour being that of dark grey, with a broad band of black running from the neck downwards on each side of the body. It lives entirely on ants; and on opening its mouth we found that it could not provide itself with other food, as it was entirely destitute of teeth. Its claws, which were long, sharp, pointed, and trenchant, were its only implements of defence. Its hinder claws were short and weak; but the front ones were powerful, and so formed that anything at which it seizes can never hope to escape. The object of its powerful crooked claws is to enable it to open the ant-hills, on the inhabitants of which it feeds. It then draws its long, flexible tongue, covered with a glutinous saliva, over the swarms of insects who hurry forth to defend their dwelling.

The scientific name of this great ant-eater is Myrmecophaga jubata. There are, however, several smaller ant-eaters, which are arborial—that is, have their habitations in trees. Some are only ten inches long. One species is clothed with a greyish-yellow silky hair; another is of a dingy brown colour. They are somewhat similar in their habits to the sloth; and as they are seen clinging with their claws to the trees, or moving sluggishly along, they are easily mistaken for that animal, to which, indeed, they are allied. Some are nocturnal, others are seen moving about in the daytime.

True seemed to be aware of the narrow escape he had had from the formidable talons of the ant-eater, for after this encounter he kept close behind my heels. I hoped that he had received a useful lesson, and would attack no animal unless at my command, or he might do so some day when no friend was at hand to come to his rescue.

We had been walking on after this occurrence for some time in silence, when True pricked up his ears and began to steal forward. I could, however, see nothing. The undergrowth and masses of sipos were here of considerable denseness. Still, as he advanced, we followed him. Presently the forest became a little more open, when we caught sight of a creature with a long tail and a tawny hide with dark marks. "It is a jaguar," I whispered to John. "It is watching some animal. In a moment we shall see it make its spring." It was so intent on some object before it, that it did not discover our approach. On it went with the stealthy pace of a cat about to pounce on an unwary bird or mouse. It did not make the slightest noise, carefully avoiding every branch in its way. True, after his late adventure with the ant-eater, was less disposed than usual to seek an encounter, and I was therefore able to keep him from dashing forward as he otherwise would have done.

"The creature is about to pounce on some deer he sees feeding in the thicket," whispered John; "or perhaps he espies a tapir, and hopes to bring it to the ground."

Unconscious of our approach, the savage animal crept on and on, now putting one foot slowly forward, now the other. Now it stopped, then advanced more quickly. At length it stopped for a moment, and then made one rapid bound forward. A cry reached our ears. "That is a human voice!" exclaimed John; "some unfortunate native caught sleeping." He fired as he spoke, for we could still see the back of the animal through the thick underwood. The jaguar bounded up as it received the wound, and the next moment the tall figure of the recluse appeared, bleeding at the shoulder, but otherwise apparently uninjured.

"What, my young friends," he exclaimed, "brought you here? You have saved my life, at all events."

"We chanced to lose our way, and are thankful we came up in time to save you from that savage brute."

"Chance!" exclaimed the recluse. "It is the very point I was considering at the moment;" and he showed us a book in his hand. "Your arrival proves to me that there is no such thing as chance. I was reading at the moment, lost in thought, or I should not have been so easily surprised."

John then told him how we had waited to see Ellen and our young friend off; and then, in attempting to follow our companions, had lost our way.

"We should have got thus far sooner had we not been delayed by an attack which a great ant-eater made on our dog."

"If you have lost your way, you will wish to find it," said the recluse. "I will put you right, and as we go along, we can speak on the point I mentioned. You have some distance to go, for you should know that you have come almost at right angles to the route you intended to take. No matter; I know this forest, and can lead you by a direct course to the point you wish to gain. But I must ask you before we move forward to bind up my shoulder. Here, take this handkerchief. You need not be afraid of hurting me."

Saying this, he resumed his seat on the log, and John, under his directions, secured the handkerchief over the lacerated limb. He bore the process with perfect composure, deep as were the wounds formed by the jaguar's claws.

"What has occurred has convinced me that chance does not exist," he said, resuming his remarks as we walked along. "You delayed some time, you tell me, in watching your friends embark; then, losing your way, you were detained by the ant-eater, and thus arrived at the very moment to save my life. There was no chance in that. Had you been sooner you would have passed me by, for I sat so occupied in reading, and ensconced among the roots of the trees, that I should not have heard you. Had you delayed longer, the fierce jaguar would have seized me, and my life would have been sacrificed. No, I say again, there is no such thing as chance. He who rules the world ordered each event which has occurred, and directed your steps hither. It is a happy and comforting creed to know that One more powerful than ourselves takes care of us. Till the moment the jaguar's sharp claw touched my shoulder, I had doubted this. The author whose book I hold doubts it also, and I was arguing the point with him. Your arrival decided the question."

While he was speaking I missed True, and now heard him bark violently. I ran back, and found the jaguar we thought had been killed rising to its feet. It was snarling fiercely at the brave dog, and in another moment would have sprung upon him. True stood prepared for the encounter, watching the creature's glaring eyes. I saw the danger of my faithful friend and fired at the head of the savage animal. My shot was more effectual than John's. It fell back dead. John and the recluse came hurrying up.

"We should never leave a treacherous foe behind us," observed the latter. "However, he is harmless now. Come on. You have a long walk before you; though, for myself, I can find a lodging in the forest, suited to my taste, whenever I please."

The recluse, as in our former walk, led the way. For a considerable distance he went on without again speaking. There was much that was strange about him, yet his mind seemed perfectly clear, and I could not help hoping that we might be the means of persuading him to return to civilised society. He walked forward so rapidly that we sometimes had difficulty in keeping up with him; and I remarked, more than I had done before, his strange appearance, as he flourished his sharp axe, now striking on one side, now on the other, at the sipos and vines which interfered with his progress. He was dressed merely in a coarse cotton shirt and light trousers secured round the waist by a sash, while a broad-brimmed straw hat sheltered his head. His complexion was burned almost red; his features were thin, and his eyes sunken; but no tinge of grey could be perceived in his hair, which hung wild and streaming over his shoulders.

True, after going on for some time patiently, began to hunt about on either side according to his custom. Presently he gave forth one of his loud cheery barks, and off he bounded after a creature which had come out of the hollow of a tree. Calling to John, I made chase, getting my gun ready to fire. The ground just there was bare, and I caught sight of an animal the size of a small pig, but its whole back and head were covered with scales. In spite of its awkward appearance, it made good play over the ground, and even True, with all his activity, could scarcely keep up with it. It turned its head here and there, looking apparently for a hole in which to seek shelter. He, however, made desperate efforts to overtake it. The base of a large tree impeded its progress, when, just as he was about to spring on it, it suddenly coiled itself up into a round ball. True kept springing round and round it, wishing to get hold of the creature, but evidently finding no vulnerable part. I ran forward and seized it, when, just as I got hold of the ball, I received so severe a dig in my legs from a pair of powerful claws which it suddenly projected, that I was glad to throw it down again.

"You have got hold of an armadillo," said the recluse, who with John at that moment arrived. "If you want a dinner, or wish to make an acceptable present to your Indian friends, you may kill and carry it with you; but if not, let the creature go. For my part, I delight to allow the beasts of the forest to roam at large, and enjoy the existence which their Maker has given them. The productions of the ground afford me sufficient food to support life, and more I do not require. Yet I acknowledge that unless animals were allowed to prey on each other, the species would soon become so numerous that the teeming earth itself could no longer support them: therefore man, as he has the power, so, I own, he has the right to supply himself with food which suits his taste. I speak, therefore, only as regards my own feelings."

While he was speaking he seemed to forget that he had just before been in a hurry to proceed on our way, and stood with his arms folded, gazing at the armadillo. The creature, finding itself unmolested, for even True stood at a respectful distance, uncoiled itself, and I then had an opportunity of observing its curious construction. Its whole back was covered with a coat of scaly armour of a bony-looking substance, in several parts. On the head was an oval plate, beneath which could be seen a pair of small eyes, winking, as if annoyed by the sunlight. Over the shoulders was a large buckler, and a similar one covered the haunches; while between these solid portions could be seen a series of shelly zones, arranged in such a manner as to accommodate this coat of mail to the back and body. The entire tail was shielded by a series of calcareous rings, which made it perfectly flexible. The interior surface, as well as the lower part of the body, was covered with coarse scattered hairs, of which some were seen to issue forth between the joints of the armour. It had a pointed snout, long ears, short, thick limbs, and stout claws.

"There are several species of the armadillo," observed our friend. "The creature before us is the Dasypus sexcinctus. It is a burrowing animal, and so rapidly can it dig a hole, that when chased it has often its way made under ground before the hunter can reach it. Its food consists of roots, fruits, and every variety of soft vegetable substances; but it also devours carrion and flesh of all sorts, as well as worms, lizards, ants, and birds which build their nests on the ground. In some parts of the continent the natives cook it in its shell, and esteem it a great delicacy."

Whilst our friend was giving us this account, the armadillo, suddenly starting forward, ran off at a great rate into the forest, True made chase, but I called him back, and he came willingly, apparently convinced that he should be unable to overtake the creature, or overpower it if he did.

We were once more proceeding on our way. The day was drawing to a close, and yet we had not overtaken our companions. "You are scarcely aware of the distance you were from the right road," observed the recluse. "When once a person gets from the direct path, he knows not whither he may wander. It may be a lesson to you. I have learned it from bitter experience." He sighed deeply as he spoke. At length we saw the bright glare of a fire between the trees. "You will find your friends there," said the recluse, "and, directed by that, can now go on."

"But surely you are going with us to the camp?" said John.

"No; I shall seek a resting-place in the forest," he answered. "I am too much accustomed to solitude to object to be alone, even though I have no sheltering roof over my head. Farewell! I know not whether we shall meet again, but I would once more give you the assurance that I do not forget that you were the means of saving my life; and yet I know not why I should set value upon it."

In vain John and I entreated him to come on. Not another step further would he advance; and he cut us short by turning hastily round and stalking off into the depths of the forest, while we hurried on towards the camp.

"Oh, there they are! there they are!" exclaimed Ellen, running forward to meet us as we appeared. "I have been so anxious about you, and so has Arthur! Domingos told us he was sure you would come up soon, but I could not help dreading that some accident had happened."

We had to confess that we had lost our way, and that, had it not been for the stranger, we should still be wandering in the forest.

"And why would he not come to the camp?" she asked. "Arthur is longing to see him again. Duppo has been telling him of the way in which he rescued him from the anaconda. I was at last obliged to tell him what occurred."

Arthur now came up. "I must thank him!" he exclaimed. "I will run and overtake him."

We had great difficulty in persuading Arthur of the hopelessness of finding him, and that he would be more likely to lose his own way in the forest.

The Indians had been busily employed in putting up huts for our accommodation. Ellen and Maria, with their pets, had already possession of theirs. We hung up our hammocks in the more open shed which had been prepared for us.



CHAPTER THIRTEEN.

OUR NEW RESTING-PLACE, AND THE ADVENTURES WHICH BEFEL US THERE.

Next morning Maono and his people began erecting a more substantial habitation for us, signifying that his white friend, meaning the recluse, had desired him to do so. It was built on the spot we had previously selected near the igarape, and overlooking the main river. A number of stout poles were first driven into the ground, and to their tops others were joined and united in the centre, forming a conical roof, the eaves projecting below to a considerable distance. Palm-leaves were then fastened, much in the fashion I have before described, over the roof, layer above layer, till a considerable thickness was attained. The walls were formed by interweaving sipos between the uprights, a space being left for ventilation. We had thus a substantial hut erected, which it would have taken us, unaided, many days to build. While the Indians were working outside, John and I, with Domingos, formed a partition in the interior, to serve as a room for Ellen and Maria. "We must manufacture a table and some stools, and then our abode will be complete," said John. Some small palms which grew near were split with wedges into planks. Out of these we formed, with the assistance of Domingos, a table, and as many rough stools as we required.