the world. They had seen the broad blue mark across the sand where it
flowed into the sea, and the green cloud of trees mass themselves about
it farther up, and finally hide its waters altogether from sight. At
intervals for the first twenty miles or so houses were scattered on the
bank; by degrees the houses became huts, and, later still, there was
neither hut nor house, but trees and grass, which were seen only by
hunters, explorers, or merchants, marching or sailing, but making no
settlement.

By leaving Santa Marina early in the morning, driving twenty miles
and riding eight, the party, which was composed finally of six English
people, reached the river-side as the night fell. They came cantering
through the trees--Mr. and Mrs. Flushing, Helen Ambrose, Rachel,
Terence, and St. John. The tired little horses then stopped
automatically, and the English dismounted. Mrs. Flushing strode to the
river-bank in high spirits. The day had been long and hot, but she had
enjoyed the speed and the open air; she had left the hotel which she
hated, and she found the company to her liking. The river was swirling
past in the darkness; they could just distinguish the smooth moving
surface of the water, and the air was full of the sound of it. They
stood in an empty space in the midst of great tree-trunks, and out there
a little green light moving slightly up and down showed them where the
steamer lay in which they were to embark.

When they all stood upon its deck they found that it was a very small
boat which throbbed gently beneath them for a few minutes, and then
shoved smoothly through the water. They seemed to be driving into the
heart of the night, for the trees closed in front of them, and they
could hear all round them the rustling of leaves. The great darkness had
the usual effect of taking away all desire for communication by making
their words sound thin and small; and, after walking round the deck
three or four times, they clustered together, yawning deeply, and
looking at the same spot of deep gloom on the banks. Murmuring very low
in the rhythmical tone of one oppressed by the air, Mrs. Flushing began
to wonder where they were to sleep, for they could not sleep downstairs,
they could not sleep in a doghole smelling of oil, they could not sleep
on deck, they could not sleep--She yawned profoundly. It was as Helen
had foreseen; the question of nakedness had risen already, although they
were half asleep, and almost invis