“Bah! still frightened about the tigers! For shame, Clara! Look at this young man, who never saw a jaguar in his life; and heeds them no more than so many field mice. Come along!”
“What have we to do now?”
“The spirit of the waters,” replied Costal, “does not show herself in the cascade alone. She appears also to those who invoke her with the conch, amidst the yellow waves of the inundation. To-morrow we may try again.”
“What about the young fellow whom the officer has recommended to our care?”
“We shall go to look after him in the morning. Meanwhile, we must have some rest ourselves. Let us climb out of the ravine, and carry the canoe up to the summit of the Cerro de la Mesa. There we shall sleep tranquilly, without fear either of floods or jaguars.”
“That’s just the thing,” said Clara, his black face brightening up at the prospect of a good night’s rest. “To say the truth, friend Costal, I’m tired enough myself. Our gymnastics up yonder, on the ahuehuetes, have made every bone in my body as sore as a blister.”
And as the two confrères ended their dialogue, they stepped briskly forward, and were soon at the top of the precipitous path that led up from the ravine.