e.

On the great plateau the sun shines rather later than in the lower
regions. As the luminary approached the earth, the sky was lighted up
with a purple color, and I saw standing out on our left in bold relief
the jagged outline of the Cordilleras of l'Encuerado's country. The
whitish ground gradually assumed a transparent appearance; our eyes
deceived us to such an extent that we fancied we saw an immense tract of
water, above which the trees, appearing as if they were submerged,
raised their green heads.

The moon rose, and, far from destroying the mirage, it rendered the
illusion still more striking. I resolved to descend from the hill in
order to convince Lucien how much our vision was deceived.

"There is no mistake about the plain being dry," said he, as we returned
to the bivouac, "and yet one might fancy that, as we were mounting the
hill, the water was rising behind us."

"The layers of the air," I replied, "are unequally warmed, and their
refraction, which causes the rays of light to deviate in their course,
reverses the objects which cover the plain, and, on the other hand,
causes them to appear more elevated than they really are."

"So we see water in a place where in reality there is none."

"You don't take the sky into account, which is reflected on the ground
beneath us as in a mirror. But the air is becoming cooler, and you will
soon see the phenomenon slowly disappear, as if some invisible hand was
pushing the mist back towards the horizon."

[Illustration: "The moon rose, . . . and rendered the illusion more
striking."]

While we were looking down over the plateau, and watching the mirage
gradually fade away, a distant light suddenly shone out. Loud
exclamations hailed the sight of this unknown bivouac; and, fixing our
eyes on it, we all formed endless conjectures. We had not expected to
meet with any habitation before the next day; and the cry of "land!" on
board ship after a long voyage could not have made a stronger impression
than the sight of this fire. The air was cool; still l'Encuerado was not
allowed to kindle a light, which would perhaps have betrayed us to foes.
It was now twenty days since we had met with a human being, and our
first feeling, after the instinctive joy at the idea of seeing our
fellow-creatures, was, alas! one of distrust.

[Illustration]

[Illustration]

CHAPTER XX.

THE MORNING AND NIGHT DEW.--THE TERRE-FROIDE.--WATER-SPOUTS AND
WHIRLWINDS.--THE BAR