outh.

"No, indeed," is the hurried rejoinder. "I only wish it were a jest.
It's not, but a dire, dangerous earnest. _Santissima_!" he cries out,
in addition, as a shock like that of a galvanic battery causes him to
shake in his saddle, "that's a _lightning eel_, for sure! They're all
round us, in scores, hundreds, thousands! Spur your horses! Force them
forward, anyway! On out of the water! A moment wasted, and we're
lost!"

While speaking, he digs the spurs into his own animal, with his voice
also urging it onward; they doing the same.

But spur and shout as they may, the terrified quadrupeds can scarce be
got to stir from the spot where first attacked by the electric eels.
For it is by these they are assailed, though Gaspar has given them a
slightly different name.

And just as he has said, the slippery creatures seem to be all around
them, coiling about the horses' legs, brushing against their bellies, at
intervals using the powerful, though invisible, weapon with which Nature
has provided them; while the scared quadrupeds, instead of dashing
onward to get clear of the danger, only pitch and plunge about, at
intervals standing at rest, as if benumbed, or shaking as though struck
by palsy--all three of them, breathing hard and loud, the smoke issuing
from their nostrils, with froth which falls in flakes, whitening the
water below.

Their riders are not much less alarmed: they too sensibly feeling
themselves affected by the magnetic influence. For the subtle current
passing through the bodies of their horses, in like manner, and almost
simultaneously enters their own. All now aware that they are in real
danger, are using their utmost efforts to get out of it by spurring,
shouting to their animals, and beating them with whatever they can lay
their hands on.

It is a desperate strife, a contest between them and the quadrupeds, as
they strive to force the latter forward, and from out of the perilous
place. Fortunately, it does not last long, or the end would be fatal.
After a short time, two of the three succeeded in reaching the bank:
these Gaspar and Cypriano; the gaucho, as he feels himself on firm
ground, crying out:--

"Thank the Lord for our deliverance!"

But scarce has the thanksgiving passed his lips, when, turning face
towards the stream, he sees what brings the pallor back into his cheeks,
and a trembling throughout his frame, as if he were still under the
battery of the electric eels. Lu