with many strange
odours; to listen to the silence of the forest, accentuated rather than
broken by the sounds of their passage, and the low singing hum of
innumerable myriads of invisible insects; to start as a sudden whirr of
wings directed their attention to some brilliant plumaged bird seen for
an instant flashing athwart their ken like a living gem and then
vanishing they scarcely knew whither; to behold the countless strange
forms and curious colours of the flowers that sprang beneath their feet
or hung in festoons from the lofty branches overhead; to hear the
mysterious sounds that occasionally came to them from the forest on
either hand; and to slake their thirst by devouring the strange but
luscious fruits indicated by their friends the Cimarrones and partaken
of at first doubtfully and with extremest caution. And it was only when
they suddenly emerged from the forest gloom into some brake open to the
sky, and halted for a moment until their eyes grew accustomed to the
dazzling daylight, that they were able to realise how intense that gloom
had been. But the novelty of the journey was not all pleasurable, for
apart from the breathless, oppressive heat, and the annoyance caused by
the pertinacious attacks of mosquitos, gnats, and other fiercely
stinging insects, there was a certain element of danger, as was
manifested by the frequent low warning cry raised by a Cimarrone, of
"_Culebra, culebra; guardarse_!" (snake, snake; beware!)

It was close upon noon when, after a gentle ascent of about four hours'
duration, followed by a somewhat steeper descent of rather less than
half that time the expedition emerged from the forest and found itself
in a small, open, grassy space, bordered on the one hand by the high
woods and on the other by a small stream of crystal clear water flowing
over a gravelly bed; and here Lukabela gave the welcome announcement
that he proposed to call a halt for two hours in order that men and
animals might rest and refresh themselves during the hottest part of the
day. Accordingly arms were piled, armour put off, and most of the
Englishmen indulged in the unwonted luxury of a fresh water bath, while
the faithful Cimarrones--or Maroons, as some of the mariners began to
call them--unloaded the mules, watered them, and then hobbled them to
feed upon the rich, short grass, lighted a fire, cut down sweet, balsam-
like boughs and built little arbours with them in the shadow of which
their white