“What a truly grand sight!”

It was Mark who uttered the words. He stood in the bow of a long canoe, manned by a single Indian, who was sending the craft along the bosom of the silent river with skill and swiftness.

On each side of the canoe the dark waters of the upper Orinoco stretched to a distance of a hundred yards or more. Beyond were gigantic forests of mahogany, rose-wood, grenadilla, ebony, and rubber trees. Beneath the trees were immense ferns and strange varicolored mosses, and over and through all grew the ever-present tropical vines, forming meshes which were well-nigh impassable.

The sun shone far to the westward, but the river lay in a deep shadow, and the many birds which had sung so gaily during the day had ceased their song, giving place to the sounds of the oncoming night. Far in the distance some wild parrots screeched out boldly, and many monkeys added a chorus of their own. As Mark gazed at a tree which stood at the bend of the stream he saw something uncurl itself and drop into the water with a slight splash.

“What was that?” he asked of the professor, who was nearest to him.

“That was a water snake, Robertson. An ugly creature, too, if you meet him in his native element.”

“Ugh, a snake! Then I guess we won’t land there.”

“The Indian says he knows of a nice spot a mile beyond here, where there is a cleared place on the brow of a little bluff. To camp in the midst of such a jungle as this would be very unwise.”

For three days the party had been traveling along the upper Orinoco in the canoe, which was a stout affair, over twenty feet long and with a little hood in the stern for protection from the sun. The last village at which they had stopped had been left ten miles behind and here they had bidden adieu to Andy Hume, who was in another boat and who wished to explore one of the many tributaries of the Orinoco which join the mighty stream at this point.

The trip in the canoe had been full of interest. They passed several rapids, and at one point had had to “tote” the canoe and its contents around a picturesque waterfall. They had gone fishing under the directions of the Indian, whose name was Cubara, and had brought in a fine mess, which had been cooked over the camp-fire in true hunter fashion. They had even gone hunting and each of the boys had brought down several tropical birds of gorgeous plumage. They had wanted to go swimming, but this the professor had not allowed, fearing there might be something in the water to harm them.

The Indian was a knowing fellow and bright, although not given to much talking. He had been selected by the professor because of his knowledge of English, which was, however, slight. He took particularly to Frank, who had given him a pocket looking-glass he chanced to have with him.

“Well I wish we were landed,” grumbled Hockley, who sat under the hood of the canoe, taking it easy. “I am tired of this everlasting water. There is a sameness that is perfectly sickening.”

“That’s because you don’t enjoy the beauties of nature,” returned Darry, with a grin. “You haven’t the poetic temperament, so to speak.”

“You needn’t poke fun at me,” growled the lank youth, with a scowl. “I say there is sameness, and there is. It’s been nothing but water and trees ever since we started.”

“If I were you, Hockley, I’d get out and wade back,” put in Frank. “I can’t imagine what made you come.”

“I came to have a good time, but it’s no good time drifting in a canoe like this,” was the surly response. “If we were ashore—”

“We’ll soon be ashore,” interrupted Mark. “There is the bluff, just around the bend. Cubara is right, it’s an ideal spot for camping out.”

“If there isn’t a puma there waiting to chew us up,” added Frank, but the smile on his face showed that he was not particularly afraid.

The canoe was run in among the bushes lining the bank below the bluff, and leaping ashore the Indian pulled the craft well out of the water. Then one after another leaped to the dry ground beyond.

“Leave the baggage where it is for the present,” said the professor. “I want to take a look around before I decide to pitch camp. There may be some objection which Cubara has overlooked.”

But there was none, and soon they had everything ashore and up to the edge of the bluff, which arose from the surrounding jungle to a height of thirty feet. To one side of the bluff was a series of rough rocks leading down to the river and on the other was a beautiful waterfall coming from a mountain a mile or more to the eastward. On the other side of the Orinoco the virgin forests stretched for miles.

As in all tropical localities night came on swiftly, and by the time they had brought all their things to the top of the bluff and started a camp-fire darkness was upon them, lit up only by a few bright stars far overhead. They had brought with them a fair sized tent and Sam and Darry were soon hard at work cutting the necessary poles for erecting the shelter.

“These forests look as if they had never seen the axe of a woodsman,” said Sam. “What immense trees! Some of them must be two hundred feet high.”

The poles were soon cut and then the erection of the tent began. It was placed at a point where the ground sloped a little, which would allow the water to run off in case it rained. It was fastened down with extra heavy stakes so that nothing short of a hurricane would be able to level it.

The tent erected, they took the most valuable of their stores inside, piling them up at the rear. There was a case for their guns, another containing ammunition, and a third medicines, and also several bundles of clothing. They had also brought with them a number of canned goods, coffee, sugar, salt and some jerked beef, in case they should be unable to bring down their own meat. The jerked beef had been purchased at Apure, where there is a large market for beef, both “on the hoof” and prepared. Among the stores were also a bag of flour and a small bag of beans—the latter brought along by Sam, who declared that he was going to have his usual Sunday morning delicacy, no matter what happened.

It was decided by the professor that throughout their stay in the jungle each should take his turn at watching during the night. “There are seven of us all told,” he said. “And that will give each only about an hour apiece, which will be no hardship. Perhaps nothing will come to disturb us, but with one on guard all the others will be able to sleep in comfort.”

The first night in the camp passed without anything unusual occurring. The boys were up bright and early, and Mark discovered a pool at the foot of the waterfall where they might bathe and wash to their hearts’ content. The water was as cool as it was pure and refreshed them wonderfully.

“Makes a fellow feel like living again,” cried Darry, as he splashed around. “I presume that water comes from the very top of yonder mountain.”

“No doubt of it,” returned Mark, “and some of it may be melted snow for all we know.”

Hockley had been too lazy to take a bath, and still lay on the flooring of the tent, snoring lustily. To wake him up, Darry went and pulled him by the foot.

“Hi, you, let go!” cried the sleepy youth, as he sat up. “Can’t you let me sleep?”

“Time for breakfast,” returned Darry. “We’ve had a bath.”

“Have you? Well, I’m not so dirty as all that. After this you let me sleep as long as I please.”

“All right,” returned Darry, coolly. And as he turned away he added, in an undertone to Frank: “What a perfect bear he is! I wish he had remained at home.”

“So do I,” was the answer. “But as he is with us we’ll have to make the best of it.”

While the others were getting breakfast Hockley began leisurely to dress himself. He had pulled on one shoe and was holding the other when of a sudden he gave a cry of terror and leaped up wildly.

“Take it off! Take it off!”

“Take it off! Take it off!”

“What is it?” demanded the professor, quickly, and rushed to his side.

“I don’t know what it is. It crawled out of my shoe. Take it off!”

He pointed to a creature four or five inches long, with many legs and with horned jaws, which rested on his knee, shaking its tiny head from one side to the other.

“A centipede!” murmured Professor Strong, and doubling up his finger he snapped the thing to the ground and there quickly stamped on it.

“A centipede!” bawled Hockley. “They’re poisonous, so I’ve heard. I—I think he bit me in the back of the hand. Do you think that if he did it will prove fa-fatal?” And he turned pale.

“I don’t think so, Hockley. Let me see your hand.”

“Yes, sir. But hadn’t we better get out of here? There may be more around?”

“We might go where there are more instead of less. Venezuela is full of centipedes, and some of them are dangerous. But that wasn’t such a big fellow, and your hand seems to be all right. They won’t bite a human being unless they are pushed to it, and some natives do not mind the bites at all.”

“No hurt me,” put in Cubara, with a smile. “Some of my people eat dem—no poison much, no,” and he shook his head vigorously.

“I don’t want any more of them,” growled Hockley. “What a nasty looking thing—with so many legs!”

“You always want to shake out everything you wear before you put it on,” said the professor, to all of the boys. “If you don’t you may encounter scorpions and tarantulas as well as centipedes. They are the great drawbacks to almost every hot country.”