And darkness and the absence of all good,
Startles the traveler with a sound so drear,
So full of hopeless agony and fear,
His heart stands still and listens with his ear,
The guide, as if he heard a death-bell toll,
Crosses himself and whispers "A Lost Soul."
The last words seemed to affect Carino deeply and falling on his knees before the leader of the expedition he said:
"My heart is heavy at the thought of your undertaking to fight the demons of the mountain. It is not good—this thing you are about to do. The didis may tempt you to enter these fatal woods, but they will trap you by closing the trail and you will never be seen again."
"We will encamp here for the night, and tomorrow at sunrise we will have a look at Roraima," said the leader, not feeling very comfortable over the doleful noise called the wail of a lost soul. "It may be that these Indians are not so far wrong," he said to himself when their backs were turned. "At any rate, I do not fancy going into the woods so near nightfall."
After a long parley Carino succeeded in persuading the porters and servants to venture a short distance to get some wood for cooking and other purposes. They had not been gone long when the Spaniards heard a loud roaring bark, almost like a trumpet, quickly followed by several more in the immediate vicinity. Soon the Indians came flying into camp terror-stricken.