ara,
we've given too much thought to these animals. Fortunately we have not
lost much; and now to our affair. The young moon will be up in a trice,
and I must invoke Tlaloc, the god of the waters, to bestow some gold on
the Caciques of Tehuantepec."

The two men had by this time arrived at the place from which the canoe
had been taken; and here both disembarked, Costal carefully refastening
the craft to the trunk of the willow. Then leaving his companion, he
walked off down the bank alone.

"Do not go far away!" said Clara, entreatingly, still troubled with the
fear of the jaguars.

"Bah!" exclaimed Costal, "I leave my gun with you!"

"Oh, indeed!" murmured the negro; "what signifies that? one bullet for
four tigers!"

Without vouchsafing any reply to this last speech, the Indian advanced a
little farther along the bank, and then came to a pause. A large tree
grew upon the edge of the stream, its branches extending outwards. Into
this he climbed; and then stretching out his arms over the water, he
commenced chaunting a lugubrious measure--a species of Indian
invocation, of which Clara could hear the words, but without in the
least comprehending their signification.

There was something in the wild melody of the Indian's voice to cause
his companion a certain mysterious dread; and this was increased by
additional notes of an equally mournful character that came pealing up
the ravine, mingling with the hoarse roaring of the cascade. It was the
scream of the jaguar; though it actually appeared as if some demon was
answering to the invocations of the Indian. The lugubrious chaunt of
the pagan, and the coincident scream of the tiger, formed a kind of
infernal accompaniment, well calculated to strike awe into the mind of
one of Clara's superstitious race; and as he stood upon the bank he
fancied he saw fiery eyes glaring upon him through the leaves, and the
Siren with the dishevelled hair rising above the surface of the water.

A double chill passed through his black skin, from the soles of his feet
to the roots of his kinky hair.

At this moment Costal returned to him.

"Are you ready?" inquired the Indian.

"For what?"

"To accompany me to the cascade--there to invoke the Siren, and ask if
she may be seen."

"What! down there, where the tigers are roaring?"

"Oh, a fig for them! Remember, Clara, it is gold _we_ seek; and,
believe me, if fortunate in our application, the Siren will tell us
where it