After waiting a little time longer, Don José emerged from the cavern, and looking about, told us that the road was clear. We accordingly descended, though it required great caution to avoid making a rapid descent into the deep ravine below us. For the greater part of the day we continued toiling on, supported by the coca with which we occasionally replenished our mouths. At length, towards evening, we made our way to a native hut, where we were received as usual. Here hammocks were slung for us between the pole on which the roof rested, our hosts undertaking to keep careful watch to prevent surprise.
I had become very anxious about the rest of our party, fearing that they might have been discovered. At the end of two more days I recognised the features of the spot where we had left them. No one was to be seen. My heart sank. Had they been seized and carried off to Quito, or had they made their escape? Great was my satisfaction when, on rounding a rocky point, I caught sight of the huts, and saw Arthur running towards us. “We are all well—very thankful to see you return!” he exclaimed, “for we began to fear that you might have been lost.” Directly afterwards John and Ellen emerged from their huts, and now all the party were gathered round us. Poor dear Ellen welcomed me with tears in her eyes. Her spirits revived when Don José told her he had reason to believe that our parents were in safety. True could not restrain his joy, but kept leaping up and licking my hands and face, and jumping round and round me. Wherever I went he closely followed, determined not again to lose sight of me. At supper he sat by my side watching my face, nor would he leave me even though John and Arthur tried to tempt him away with offers of bits of pork or parrots’ legs.
All the party were eager to set out at once, but it was necessary before we could do so to procure bearers to convey our luggage along the long and intricate path we had to take through the forest. This our friend undertook to do by the following day from a village at no great distance off.
The next morning a dozen stout natives—young, active men—made their appearance. They all had at their backs large baskets bound by withes passing across the forehead and chest. They were but lightly clothed. A small poncho covered their shoulders, and the usual cloth and kilt was worn round the loins, a wisp of leaves preventing their backs being chafed by their burdens. Each man also carried a long staff in his hand, and a bag of roasted corn as provision for the journey. The burdens were soon adjusted. One of them had a sort of chair at his back, which Don José had ordered to carry the señora, as Ellen was denominated. She insisted, however, that she was well able to walk, and not without difficulty we persuaded her to take advantage of the conveyance which had been provided.
We forthwith set out, and descending the mountain, were soon in the midst of the thick forest. Two of the Indians, who carried lighter burdens than the rest, went ahead with axes in their hands to clear the way. It was extraordinary with what rapidity they cut through the sipos, or hanging vines, which threw their serpent-like coils from tree to tree. So quick is their growth in that moist region, that other travellers following in a few weeks would have to perform the same operation, our friend told us. As we advanced the forest became thicker and thicker, the dark foliage forming a lofty vault through which no sunlight can ever enter. The air felt cool and excessively damp, compared to the exposed sides of the mountains. A constant mist seemed to hang on the branches. Not a sound was to be heard; scarcely a bird did we see in the swampy shades. The stillness and gloom, indeed, became almost painful. From the lofty trees hung down thousands of lianas, or air-roots, some forming thick festoons, others perfectly straight, of all lengths, many reaching almost down to our heads, others again touching the ground and taking root in the soft earth. Here and there some giant of the forest, decayed by age, had fallen, to remain suspended in the loops of the sipos. Thus we went on, following in Indian file. I kept near Ellen to cheer her up, while True followed close at my heels, every now and then licking my hands and jumping up, as if to ask me what I thought of the strange region we had entered. We found it rather difficult to converse. Sometimes we walked on for a considerable distance in silence.
We had thus been progressing for some time, the only sound heard being that of our footsteps on the rustling leaves, or that produced by the sharp axes of our pioneers, when suddenly our ears were startled by a loud crash, which, contrasted with the previous silence, made it seem as if the whole forest was coming down together. Ellen gave way to a slight cry of alarm. “Do not be afraid, my young friends!” shouted Don José. “It is only an ancient tree, weary of standing so long.” In a short time the crashing sound ceased, and directly afterwards we came in sight of a vast trunk, which had fallen across the path we were about to pass along. We had to make a circuit therefore to avoid it. We could not but feel thankful that it had not delayed its fall till we were passing beneath, although we might possibly have had time to escape, in consequence of its being upheld for a few seconds by the sipos, till its vast weight had dragged them down.