Both the Ugly Duckling and Creggan were fond of the beautiful in nature, and everything they saw on the pretty arboreal islands which they touched at was new and strange. Many of these were inhabited, and the languid natives, who lived in thatch huts of wattle and clay, existing for the most part on fish, I think, were exceedingly kind to them. They brought them light wine, fruit, eggs, fish, and goat's milk.
Sometimes on a day of racing clouds and sunshine, Miguel would cast anchor at the mouth of a tributary river, and in his boat would start up stream with his guests.
Such rivers were wondrously beautiful. The overhanging trees, laden down with green foliage till the tips of the branches touched the water, were cloud-lands of a beauty that was rich and rare. For not only were their leaves a sight to see, but the climbing flowers that often bound them into great crimson, blue, or orange garlands, dazzled the eyes with their loveliness.
I said the branches bent downwards, yes, and formed cool sylvan arbours, in which the boat could lie for luncheon.
Miguel—kind-hearted he was and thoughtful—had forgotten nothing that could minister to the comfort of his guests, and serve to make this visit to Venezuela an ever-memorable one.
The mosquitoes of these regions are very lively little persons, and very fond of British blood, but a tincture that Miguel gave to the boys with which to rub face and hands, kept them well at bay.
After luncheon Miguel would sing and play for an hour.
Meanwhile the great snakes that lay sometimes all their length on the branches above, or hung head down therefrom, were no source of comfort either to Creggan or his friend. They could not keep from looking at them at first, fearful lest they might drop into the boat; and these serpents are deadly monsters.
"Do not look, my friends," said Miguel; "they may fascinate you."
"Is that story about fascination not all a myth?" said Creggan.