ts, on the Peruvian or western border of this immense
forest, had never been able to penetrate it as colonists or settlers.
Expeditions from time to time had passed along its rivers in search of
the fabled gold country of _Manoa_, whose king each morning gave himself
a coating of gold dust, and was hence called El Dorado (the gilded); but
all these expeditions ended in mortification and defeat. The
settlements never extended beyond the _sierras_, or foot-hills of the
Andes, which stretch only a few days' journey (in some places but a
score of leagues) from the populous cities on the mountain-heights.
Even at this present time, if you travel thirty leagues eastward of the
large town of Cuzco, in the direction taken by Don Pablo, you will pass
the boundaries of civilisation, and enter a country unexplored and
altogether unknown to the people of Cuzco themselves! About the
"Montana" very little is known in the settlements of the Andes. Fierce
tribes of Indians, the jaguar, the vampire bat, swarms of mosquitoes,
and the hot atmosphere, have kept the settler, as well as the curious
traveller, out of these wooded plains.

Don Pablo had already passed the outskirts of civilisation. Any
settlement he might find beyond would be the hut of some half-wild
Indian. There was no fear of his encountering a white face upon the
unfrequented path he had chosen, though had he gone by some other route
he might have found white settlements extending farther to the eastward.
As it was, the wilderness lay before him, and he would soon enter it.

_And what was he to do in the wilderness_? He knew not. He had never
reflected on that. He only knew that behind him was a relentless foe
thirsting for his life. To go back was to march to certain death. He
had no thoughts of returning. That would have been madness. His
property was already confiscated--his death decreed by the vengeful
Viceroy, whose soldiers had orders to capture or slay, wherever they
should find him. His only hope, then, was to escape beyond the borders
of civilisation--to hide himself in the great Montana. Beyond this he
had formed no plan. He had scarcely thought about the future. Forward,
then, for the Montana!

The road which our travellers followed was nothing more than a narrow
path, or "trail" formed by cattle, or by some party of Indians
occasionally passing up from the lower valleys to the mountain-heights.
It lay along the edge of a torrent that leaped