you are going?" queried the laughing
Carmen.

"I might," sputtered Harris, "if I could keep my eyes off of you."
Whereat Carmen pursed her lips and told him to reserve his compliments
for those who knew how to appraise them rightly.

They camped where night overtook them, out in the open, often falling
asleep without waiting to build a fire, but eating soggy corn _arepa_
and tinned food, and drinking cold coffee left from the early morning
repast. But sometimes, when the fatigue of day was less, they would
gather about their little fire, chilled and dripping, and beg Carmen
to sing to them while they prepared supper. Then her clear voice would
ring out over the great canon and into the vast solitudes on either
hand in strange, vivid contrast to the cries and weird sounds of the
jungle; and the two Americans would sit and look at her as if they
half believed her a creature from another world. Sometimes Harris
would draw her into conversation on topics pertaining to philosophy
and religion, for he had early seen her bent and, agnostic that he
was, delighted to hear her express her views, which to him were so
childishly impossible. But as often he would voluntarily retire from
the conflict, sometimes shaking his head dubiously, sometimes
muttering his impatience with a mere child whose logic he, despite his
collegiate training, could not refute. He was as full of philosophical
theories as a nut with meat; but when she asked for proofs, for less
human belief and more demonstration, he hoisted the white flag and
retired from the field. But his admiration for the child became
sincere. His respect for her waxed daily stronger. And by the time
they had reached the great divide through which the Rosario fell, he
was dimly aware of a feeling toward the beautiful creature who walked
at his side day after day, sharing without complaint hardship and
fatigue that sorely taxed his own endurance, that was something more
than mere regard, and he had begun to speculate vaguely on a possible
future in which she became the central figure.

At Rosario creek they left the great canon and turned into the rugged
defile which wound its tortuous course upward into the heights of the
_Barra Principal_. They were now in a region where, in Rosendo's
belief, there was not one human being in an area of a hundred square
miles. He himself was in sore doubt as to the identity of the
_quebrada_ which they were following. But it tallied with the brief