CHAPTER XIX.
THE BLACK IGUANA.—ANOTHER COUNTRY.—REMINISCENCES OF CHILDHOOD.—THE MIRAGE.—A FIRE IN THE PLAIN.
By ten o'clock in the morning we had crossed some rising ground, and were passing through a narrow gorge carpeted with ferns. Lucien headed the party, closely followed by l'Encuerado; and led us on to a kind of rocky staircase, down which, in the rainy season, water doubtlessly flowed. This steep path compelled us to halt several times to recover our breath. The branches of the bushes formed an archway over our heads, and their blossoms surrounded us with their rich perfume.
At length a rise in the ground impeded our path, and the heat commenced to inconvenience us. The refraction of light, especially, affected our eyes, and our feet raised perfect clouds of dust. Lucien, who had become quite an enduring walker, throughout kept in front, and often gained ground while we were stopping to take breath. Just as we reached the ridge of the hill, I saw the boy, who was a few yards in advance, suddenly cock his gun and fire. I ran to him, but he disappeared down the slope, crying out to me that he had shot a dragon!
I soon came up, and found the young sportsman standing in front of a magnificent black iguana—Cyclura acanthura—which does, in fact, somewhat resemble the supposed appearance of the fabulous animal described by the ancients. Its skin shone with a silvery-gray metallic glitter, more particularly on the dorsal ridge. L'Encuerado joined us when it was dying, when, rubbing his hands, he cried:
"It is a guachi-chevé; what a splendid supper we shall have!"
"You have seen them before, then?"