As the ground where I stood was low and wet, and my clothes soaking, I feared catching the fever, so made my way well back to where some fallen trees had made a rift in the dense mass of trunks, creepers and foliage, letting in the sunlight. There I pulled off my garments to dry, taking great care not to let any of the poisonous leaves come into contact with my flesh, and made myself comfortable, sitting down to lunch nearly in the state of nature. I was more concerned over my damaged cigars than my dampened cartridges. On examination I found the cigars but slightly wet, so, spreading them out to dry along with the drapery, I lit one and surveyed the position. As the moisture was already steaming out of my garments I took matters cheerfully and considered the outlook good.

Having finished one of my bottles of water, I made up my mind to carry only one, and to take my chance of replenishing that. So long as my health continued perfect I did not require much water; what I feared was that my exposure and change of diet might make me feverish; if so, I would suffer from thirst unless I struck a hilly country.

How much company my watch was to me during those long days and nights! I was never tired of examining it. About 10 o'clock I made my way to the road and placed myself in a mass of foliage, where unseen by any one I had quite a range of the road. Up to this hour I had not seen a soul. At first I watched the little stretch of road with eagerness, but no one appearing I turned my attention to watching the evolutions of a huge yellow spider which was spreading its net near by. While absorbed, and almost fascinated, I was suddenly roused by the sharp, quick beating of hoofs on the sandy road. Giving a startled glance, I saw a man unarmed, but evidently a soldier, gallop quickly by on a mule. Twenty minutes later an old-fashioned cart containing four half-dressed negroes and drawn by four wretched mules passed. The men were silent and downcast. Before 1 o'clock thirty people had passed, several being soldiers of the guardia civil (armed police).

Then starting to spy out the land from the bushes and vines bordering the swamp I could see a bridge crossing the neck of the swamp, but, worst of all, quite a collection of houses at the other side, reaching down to the beach, and a wharf that ran out into the water quite fifty yards, with, no doubt, a guardhouse and police station among them. I saw my way blocked. It seemed certain there would be sentries on guard at the bridge, or so near it as to make it impossible for me to cross unobserved. The swamp extended inland apparently for three or four miles, and the jungle grew so dense as to make it impossible to penetrate it in an effort to go around, so I determined not to venture crossing the bridge, but to swim for it.

The swamp spread on both sides of the lagoon, and there was no such thing as wading in that almost liquid morass, so I tried to find by daylight a place where the mud was covered with water enough at least to make swimming possible, but no such place could I find.

Everywhere a black tangled mass of rotting leaves and creepers spread, making such a horrible slime that I shrank from attempting to cross it to the open water. Once over that there was the same ordeal to go through on the other side, and I knew I could only do it at full length—that is, to lie flat and pull myself along as well as possible. The simplest way was to wade out into the sea, then to swim far enough outside of the pier to escape observation from any one who might chance to be on it.

But this involved the chance of a horrible death, the sea there swarming with sharks, which at night come in shore. Therefore, after cogitating the matter, I resolved to attempt the bridge, taking the risk of being seen. It might prove fatal to be seen, as I would have to bolt back, and once knowing a fugitive was in the jungle they might turn out and hedge me in, unless I took the sea route. This I resolved to do, if the one by the bridge proved impracticable.

So during the afternoon I gathered a small lot of dried limbs and broke them off in sufficient quantity to make a raft capable of bearing about twenty pounds. On this I intended to put my revolvers, cartridges, cigars, etc., and also to rest lightly on it myself, pushing it before me as I swam. After dark I crossed the road into the jungle skirting the beach, carrying my raft, and deposited it on the sand. Lying down in the hot sand near by smoking a cigar, I waited for the moon to go down. I was doing more than watch the stars and moonlit water. I was saying to myself, "What a jolly world is this!"

Then, beginning to argue of human destiny, at last I brought the argument around to Ego, and decided that he was a pretty clever fellow, and that the world meant to treat him well. So Ego, settling down into a very comfortable frame of mind, lighting a fresh cigar and looking across at the dark masses of the coral islets crowned with foliage set in the mirrored waters, passed two delightful hours.

I watched the moon go down and was not impatient, for the beauty of the scene more even than the novelty of the position cast a charm over the spirit and soothed the eye and mind. I wondered how many were seeking me and how many thousands were speculating over my identity and whereabouts, yet not one in his wildest imagination could ever picture the reality of my position in all its strange and magic surroundings. Through all the coming twenty years, nightly in my dungeon, the magician memory would unroll that scene from his pictured chambers. It was all there—the physical that the eye took in and the thoughts evoked and sent swarming to the brain, there to remain engraved until life and memory end.