ho was preparing
to accompany him, "set in the Padre's baggage; and do you take the
paddle, and I will pole. _Conque, adioscito!_" waving his battered
straw hat to the natives congregated on the bank, while Juan pushed
the canoe from the shore and paddled vigorously out into the river.

"_Adioscito! adioscito! Don Rosendo y Juan!_" The hearty farewells of
the natives followed the canoe far out into the broad stream.

Across the open river in the livid heat of the early afternoon the
canoe slowly made its way. The sun from a cloudless sky viciously
poured down its glowing rays like molten metal. The boat burned; the
river steamed; the water was hot to his touch, when the priest feebly
dipped his hands into it and bathed his throbbing brow. Badillo faded
from view as they rounded a densely wooded island and entered a long
lagoon. Here they lost the slight breeze which they had had on the
main stream. In this narrow channel, hemmed in between lofty forest
walls of closely woven vines and foliage, it seemed to Jose that they
had entered a flaming inferno. The two boatmen sat silent and
inscrutable, plying their paddles without speaking.

Down the long lagoon the canoe drifted, keeping within what scant
shade the banks afforded, for the sun stood now directly overhead. The
heat was everywhere, insistent, unpitying. It burned, scalded, warped.
The foliage on either side of the channel merged into the hot waves
that rose trembling about them. The thin, burning air enveloped the
little craft with fire. Jose gasped for breath. His tongue swelled.
His pulse throbbed violently. His skin cracked. The quivering
appearance of the atmosphere robbed him of confidence in his own
vision. A cloud of insects hung always before his sight. Dead silence
lay upon the scene. Not a sound issued from the jungle. Not a bird or
animal betrayed its presence. The canoe was edging the Colombian
"hells," where even the denizens of the forest dare not venture forth
on the low, open _savannas_ in the killing heat of midday.

Jose sank down in the boat, wilting and semi-delirious. Through his
dimmed eyes the boatman looked like glowing inhuman things set in
flames. Rosendo came to him and placed his straw hat over his face.
Hours, interminable and torturing, seemed to pass on leaden wings.
Then Juan, deftly swerving his paddle, shot the canoe into a narrow
arm, and the garish sunlight was suddenly lost in the densely
intertwined branches overhanging t