s rest. "To say the truth, friend Costal,
I'm tired enough myself. Our gymnastics up yonder, on the _ahuehuetes_,
have made every bone in my body as sore as a blister."

And as the two _confreres_ ended their dialogue, they stepped briskly
forward, and were soon at the top of the precipitous path that led up
from the ravine.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN.

PRECIOUS MOMENTS.

The Captain of the Queen's Dragoons continued his gallop towards the
hacienda of Las Palmas.

For the first mile or two of his route, he passed over the broad plain
that lay silent under the soft light of the moon. The frondage of the
palms swayed gently under a sky sparkling with stars, and the
penetrating odour of the guavas loaded the atmosphere with a delicious
perfume. So tranquil was the scene, that Don Rafael began to think the
Indian had been playing upon his credulity. Mechanically he relaxed his
pace, and delivered himself up to one of those sweet reveries which the
tropic night often awakens within the spirit of the traveller. At such
an hour one experiences a degree of rapture in listening to the voices
of earth and heaven, like a hymn which each alternately chants to the
other.

All at once the traveller remembered what for the last two days of his
journey had been perplexing him--the houses abandoned--the canoes
suspended from the trees. Now, for the first time, did he comprehend
the meaning of these circumstances, no longer strange. The canoes and
_periaguas_ had been thus placed as a last means of safety, for those
who might be so unfortunate as to be overtaken by the inundation.

Suddenly rousing himself from his reverie, Don Rafael again spurred his
horse into a gallop.

He had ridden scarce a mile further, when all at once the voices of the
night became hushed. The cicadas in the trees, and the crickets under
the grass, as if by mutual consent, discontinued their cheerful chirrup;
and the breeze, hitherto soft and balmy, was succeeded by puffs of wind,
exhaling a marshy odour, stifling as the breath of some noisome
pestilence.

This ominous silence was not of long duration. Presently the traveller
perceived a hoarse distant roaring, not unlike that of the cataract he
had left behind him; but from a point diametrically opposite--in fact,
from the direction towards which he was heading.

At first he fancied that in his momentary fit of abstraction he had
taken a wrong direction, and might be returning upon the stream.