"We had not entered far, when, O Dios! my friends, the sight that met our gaze seemed to turn our hearts to ice. I shall never, never forget it.
"Antoine lay on his back; his face and hands were purple and swollen; on his brow were two vivid spots of vermilion; while his open glassy eyes were staring unmeaningly heavenwards through the trees.
"Dead? Yes, my friend was dead, and coiled around his neck was a large and fearful snake!"
* * * * * * * * * * *
As Miguel finished his little story, Creggan gazed upwards at the overhanging boughs and the ever-present snakes. But his host hastened to reassure him.
"Do not fear," he cried, "do not dread. Snakes are never vicious. They are good and kindly creatures, and at no time will they strike unless attacked, or in defence of their homes and their progeny."
I—the author—have had in my time a larger experience of snakes than I ever at any time desired, and I can quite believe the story that Miguel told his guests that day. Nevertheless, Creggan was never very sorry when the boat was once more out in the open stream.
The bird and insect life in these lonely dreamy woods it would be impossible for me to describe. Suffice it to say, that they were beautiful beyond compare. And yet the birds—that looked like flying flowers—had but little song. Their beauty of colour is granted them by God that they may resemble the orchids, and so deceive their reptile foes. If they sang much their presence would be revealed.