he entreaties to come again,
bring them a message from Amalivaca's daughter beyond the seas, and help
them to recover their lost land of Papamene; but Ayacanora took no part
in them; and Amyas left her, wondering at her absence, but joyful and
light-hearted at having escaped the rocks of the Sirens, and being at
work once more.

CHAPTER XXV

HOW THEY TOOK THE GOLD-TRAIN

"God will relent, and quit thee all thy debt,
Who ever more approves, and more accepts
Him who imploring mercy sues for life,
Than who self-rigorous chooses death as due,
Which argues over-just, and self-displeased
For self-offence, more than for God offended."

Samson Agonistes.

A fortnight or more has passed in severe toil, but not more severe than
they have endured many a time before. Bidding farewell once and
forever to the green ocean of the eastern plains, they have crossed the
Cordillera; they have taken a longing glance at the city of Santa Fe,
lying in the midst of rich gardens on its lofty mountain plateau, and
have seen, as was to be expected, that it was far too large a place for
any attempt of theirs. But they have not altogether thrown away their
time. Their Indian lad has discovered that a gold-train is going down
from Santa Fe toward the Magdalena; and they are waiting for it beside
the miserable rut which serves for a road, encamped in a forest of oaks
which would make them almost fancy themselves back again in Europe, were
it not for the tree-ferns which form the undergrowth; and were it not,
too, for the deep gorges opening at their very feet; in which, while
their brows are swept by the cool breezes of a temperate zone, they
can see far below, dim through their everlasting vapor-bath of rank hot
steam, the mighty forms and gorgeous colors of the tropic forest.

They have pitched their camp among the tree-ferns, above a spot where
the path winds along a steep hill-side, with a sheer cliff below of many
a hundred feet. There was a road there once, perhaps, when Cundinamarca
was a civilized and cultivated kingdom; but all which Spanish misrule
has left of it are a few steps slipping from their places at the bottom
of a narrow ditch of mud. It has gone the way of the aqueducts, and
bridges, and post-houses, the gardens and the llama-flocks of that
strange empire. In the mad search for gold, every art of civilization
has fallen to decay, save architecture alone; and