In front of us was situated an immense mountain, cleft open as if by the hand of some giant, the sides of which were clad with a carpet of verdure of a thousand different shades. At the bottom, as if for the purpose of stopping up the immense fissure, there was an enormous accumulation of gray and dark-tinted rocks, between which appeared, every here and there, the foliage of some tree, enamelled with flowers. From the midst of the mountain, as if from some invisible cavern, sprung out a large sheet of transparent water, which, although calm and almost motionless in appearance, descended in one fall to a rock which projected in the cataract, like the prow of a ship. As if rendered furious by the shock, and seeming to revel in the uproar, the water, converted into foam, bounded over the obstacle, and fell in two columns, separated by the black point of crag; then, springing with impetuous speed, from step to step, down a gigantic staircase, it entered a receptacle hollowed out like a shell, which received the foaming water, from whence it flowed gently into a basin edged with verdure. The torrent, quieted for a time, resumed its course, and striking against impediments, rolled on from fall to fall, and from valley to valley, until it reached the plains, more than three thousand feet beneath.
This cascade recalled to my memory one I had seen about a year before, when exploring the environs of Tuxtla, in the Terre-Chaude—viz., the Fall of Ingénio—one which would be reckoned among the most celebrated in the world, if access to it was not rendered almost impossible by the wilderness.
The sufferings of our two companions were so much alleviated by the application of water that they soon came and sat beside us. I can not describe the proud enjoyment we all felt in this wild spot. We were face to face with this unknown cascade, which we were, perhaps, the first Europeans to contemplate. Behind us the mountain sides seemed to unite and hem in the bed of the torrent. The sun bathed with its rays that portion which was bordered with large trees, among which kingfishers were skimming about. One of these birds came and perched close to us—its breast was white, its wings black on the upper side, and its head-feathers dark green; its stout, thick-set shape, and its short tail, made Lucien remark that it looked like a malformed creature. Always restless, it almost immediately resumed its abrupt flight over the surface of the water, and disappeared among the windings of the ravine.
Lucien pointed out to me an immense willow, the branches of which, drooping over the water, seemed to have at their ends enormous gourd-shaped fruits. I recognized in them the nests of those beautiful yellow birds, spotted with black, which the Mexicans call calandres. To convince Lucien of his mistake, l'Encuerado threw a large stone into the tree; the missile fell from branch to branch, and more than a hundred frightened birds flew out from their curious retreats. At first they appeared much alarmed; but when this had subsided, they skimmed over the water, or entered their impregnable habitations.
Fall of Ingénio (from a drawing by the Marquis of Radepoint).
We made our way down the ravine in hopes of finding a resting-place less rugged, and after a long, winding, tedious course, came upon a sheet of calm water, flowing over a bed of sand. The sun was shining full open upon its transparent surface, and, close to the edge, hundreds of flies were whirling about.
"Those are coleopteræ," said Sumichrast to Lucien.
"Why do they turn round and round like that?" inquired he.