is to be found. Gold in masses!"

"Enough!" cried Clara, overcome by the rich prospect. "I am with you,"
continued he--"lead on! From this hour I am the slave of the Siren who
can show us the _placers_ of gold!"

The Indian took up his hat and carbine, both of which he had laid aside
while chaunting his invocation; and, throwing the gun over his shoulder,
started down stream. Clara followed close at his heels--his spirit
alternately possessed with cupidity and fear.

As they advanced, the banks rose higher above the surface of the stream,
and the channel became the bottom of a deep, narrow ravine, where the
water rushed foaming among rocks. The great trees growing on each side
stretched towards one another, until their branches interlocked, forming
a dark sombre tunnel underneath. At the lower end of this, the stream,
once more bursting forth into light, leaped vertically at one bound
through a space of two hundred feet sheer, falling into the bottom of a
deep gorge, with a noise louder than the roar of the mighty ocean.

Just where the foaming flood broke over the crest of the rocks, grew two
enormous cypresses of the kind known to the Mexicans as _ahuehuetes_, or
"lords of the water." They stood on opposite sides of the stream, with
their long arms extended towards each other. Thickly loaded with
llianas, and profusely festooned with the silvery Spanish moss, which,
drooping downwards, every now and then dipped into the foaming arch of
the cascade, these two great trees looked like the ancient genii of the
waters.

At this point the two men made a halt. Although they were now very near
to the place where the jaguars were supposed to be, Clara had become
more regardless of the danger. His fear, both of wild beasts and evil
spirits, had yielded to his thirst for gold, which had been gradually
growing stronger.

"Now, Clara!" said Costal, turning a severe look upon his comrade;
"listen attentively to the instructions I am about to give you. If the
Siren should appear to you, and you should exhibit, either by look or
gesture, the slightest symptoms of fear, you are a lost man!"

"All right!" replied the negro. "The hope of being shown a mine of gold
gives me courage to risk even my neck in a halter, if need be. Never
fear, Costal. Speak on--I am ready to listen."

As the negro pronounced these words, his countenance to all appearance
expressed as much firmness as that of Costal himself. The Indian,