by these inexplicable sounds, as they
soon after ceased to be repeated, Don Cornelio no longer troubled
himself to explain them. He had heard so many others, as mysterious as
they, that he despaired of finding an explanation. As time passed,
however, and neither Costal nor Clara showed themselves, the Captain
began to feel a strong desire to sleep, and his eyelids every moment
grew heavier, until at length he felt that he could no longer resist the
desire. Like Colonel Tres-Villas, on the preceding night, he took the
precaution, before committing himself to slumber, of making secure
against a fall; and for this purpose he attached himself with his sash
to one of the branches. In another minute he was in the land of dreams,
unconscious of the singularity of the couch on which he was reclining.

CHAPTER SEVENTY FIVE.

THE GODDESS OF THE WATERS.

For the first hour the sleep of Don Cornelio was undisturbed, even by
dreams. With the second it was very different; for, scarcely had he
entered upon it, when a noise sounded in his ears, singular as it was
terrible. He awoke with a start, on hearing what appeared to be the
loud clanging of a bell rung at no great distance off.

At first he fancied he was dreaming, and that what he heard in his
dreams was the bell of his native village; but a moment's reflection
sufficed to convince him that he was awake, and couched in the fork of a
tall tree.

The sounds that had ceased for a while, now recommenced; and Don
Cornelio was able to count twelve strokes, clear and distinctly
measured, as if some large clock was tolling the hour of midnight!

It was, in fact, just about that hour--as Don Cornelio could tell by the
moon; but the observation did not hinder him from shuddering afresh at
the mysterious sounds. From his elevated position he could see afar
over both land and water; but no spire of village church or hacienda was
visible--nothing but the sombre surface of the lake, the spray of the
far-stretching forest, and the desert plains in the distance.

The tolling again vibrated upon the air; and Don Cornelio was now
convinced that it was from the lake itself, or the enchanted mountain in
its midst, that the sounds proceeded. It seemed as if it was a signal,
to awaken the Indian divinities from their sleep of ages!

The moon was still rising higher in the heavens, and her brilliant beams
broadly illumined the lake, even penetrating through the thickly-set
stems