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 ourse