ng cries--fit
accompaniment to this scene of desolation and death.

Don Cornelio again turned his eyes towards the fierce jaguars crouching
among the branches of the trees. These brutes appeared to struggle
against the ferocious instincts of their nature, which prompted them to
seize hold of a prey almost within reach of their claws. Fear for their
own lives alone prevented them from taking that of the student; and at
intervals they closed their eyes, as if to escape the temptation caused
by his presence!

At the same time the serpents, not far above his face, kept continually
coiling their long viscous bodies round the branches, and rapidly
uncoiling them again--equally uneasy at the presence of the man and the
tigers.

Mechanically closing the folds of the hammock over him, and thus holding
them with both hands, the student lay perfectly still. He feared either
to speak or make a motion, lest his voice or movement might tempt either
the reptiles or quadrupeds to make an attack upon him.

In this way more than an hour had passed, when over the surface of the
waters, which now flowed in a more tranquil current, Don Cornelio
fancied he heard a singular sound. It resembled the notes of a bugle,
but at times the intonation was hoarser and more grave, not unlike a
certain utterance of his two formidable neighbours, which from time to
time the student heard swelling from the tops of the tamarinds.

It was neither more nor less than the conch of Costal; who, making his
way towards the spot in his canoe, was employing the time to advantage
in endeavouring to invoke the goddess of the waters.

Presently the student was able to make out in the distance the little
canoe gliding over the water, with the two adventurers seated in the
stem and stern. At intervals, the Indian, accustomed to this sort of
navigation, was seen to drop his oars and hold the shell to his mouth.
Lantejas then saw that it was from this instrument the sounds that had
so puzzled him were proceeding.

Absorbed in their odd occupation, neither Costal nor Clara had as yet
perceived the student of theology--hidden as he was by the thick network
of the hammock, and almost afraid to make the slightest movement. Just
then, however, a muffled voice, as of some one speaking from under a
mask, reached their ears.

"Did you hear anything, Costal?" inquired the negro.

"Yes, I heard a sort of cry," replied Costal; "like enough it's the poor
devil of a st