"For beasts and birds have seen and heard
That which man knoweth not."
I hurried through with little wish to penetrate its secret. Mere
existence was hard enough in its steaming semi-darkness. Our clothes
were now almost torn to shreds (I had sought to mend mine with horse-
hair thread, with poor results), and we duly emerged into daylight on
the other side, ragged, torn and dirty.
Our journey back to civilization was similar to the outward way. We
selected a slightly different route, but left the old chief safe and
well with his people.
One night our horses were startled by a bounding jaguar, and were so
terrified that they broke away and scattered in all directions.
Searching for them detained us a whole day, but fortunately we were
able to round them all up again. Two were found in a wood of
strangely-shaped bushes, whose large, tough leaves rustled like
parchment.
One afternoon a heavy rain came on, and we stopped to construct a
shelter of green branches, into which we crept. The downpour became
so heavy that it dripped through our hastily-constructed arbor, and
we were soon soaking wet. Owing to the dampness of the fuel, it was
only after much patient work that we were able to light a fire and
dry our clothes. There we remained for three days, Timoteo sighing
for Pegwaomi, and the wind sighing still louder, to our discomfort.
Everything we had was saturated.
