AN excursion through the unexplored bush in South America is no light undertaking, and after a few hours employed in making his way through primeval forest the traveller obtains a fair idea of some of the terrible ordeals which had to be passed through by the early Spanish invaders and buccaneering marauders. Besides being hampered by heavy armour and accoutrements, they were dependent for food on the wild animals they killed or the roots and fruits they discovered, unless by chance they encountered natives from whom they could obtain frugal supplies. The uncertainty of obtaining subsistence, the dangers which lay in wait for them from the poisoned arrows of the natives, and the risks they ran of losing their way, all added to the perils of their expeditions. For in most favourable circumstances a journey over hills clad with the densest vegetation, and across streams and rivers inhabited by obnoxious reptiles, is distinctly trying. At the invitation of a friend I started out to visit a camp occupied by himself and his fellow-surveyors situated on the hills lying to the west side of the Chagres River. I prepared for this journey in a costume which in my ignorance I thought suitable for the occasion, including heavy boots and leggings, and a complete change of clothing in case of emergencies. At the headquarters in the town from which we started it was politely pointed out to me that I evidently did not understand the sort of country we were to travel through, and if the rig-out I had assumed was the best my wardrobe could furnish, my companion would endeavour to supply me with a more suitable equipment. He produced a pair of breeches which no self-respecting tramp would have rescued from a dust-bin, the remainder of a shirt upon which moths had made many a hearty meal, a thick pair of stockings that would have gladdened the heart of an Arctic explorer, a pair of boots such as are affected by those who go down into the bowels of the earth in sewers, and a hat so thickly coated with mud and clay that it might easily have been mistaken for a crude specimen of pottery. The fact that the breeches and shirt had been made originally for a smaller man detracted somewhat from their comfort, although the figure presented when arrayed in the garments would have aroused the envy of a professional tramp. When we were well into the forest the suitableness of this attire became apparent, and I owed a debt of gratitude to my considerate companion for having saved a respectable portion of my wardrobe from utter destruction. A change of clothing was tied up in a piece of stout waterproof material and consigned to the charge of one of the negroes who were to accompany us, and so, armed with a long pole, we started. The party consisted of my companion and myself, three negroes, and two half-bred Indians, who carried between them fresh supplies and provisions for the camp. The first part of the way lay through an old track, and offered no difficulty. After traversing a distance of about a mile we came to a muddy river, on the banks of which stood a small Indian village, composed of rude huts and shacks. The human beings who inhabited these patched-up, nondescript dwellings were about as mixed in breed as their houses in construction, and as indolent and dirty as their domiciles were foul and evil-smelling. We were detained for some time while search was being made for the boatman whose services were required to paddle us to the other side, and as we stood looking across the swiftly flowing, muddy river, I had an opportunity of becoming more closely acquainted with the camp-followers who accompanied us. A tall, middle-aged negro, called Harvey, who with difficulty was balancing a bundle upon his head, made himself conspicuous by his never-ceasing chatter. No threats from my companion served to stop his garrulity, which was explained by the fact that he had not recovered from the festivities of the previous day, the anniversary of his King’s birthday. Like a true Britisher, this Jamaican had indulged in royal toasts until he had almost assumed a regal demeanour of independence; and when he was told that he was drunk he denied it in so lofty a manner that it only confirmed the correctness of our diagnosis. “Harvey,” said my companion sternly, “don’t you know what the Bible says will happen to men who take too much strong drink?” “Don’t kere what the Bible say ’bout strong drink, cap’n, but I should like fin’ out what it say ’bout dem dam Indians what ain’t to be found when dey’re wanted, keeping English and American gentlemen waitin’ about in de burnin’ sun, ’bout near as hot as de hell fire he sure to go to.”

“Shut up, Harvey, and don’t talk so much.”

“What God give me tongue for, eh, massa, and what have I brains for if not to use?” he asked plaintively. At last the missing boatman put in an appearance, and we gingerly entered the long dug-out, which was very leaky, and about one-third full of water, and pushed off for the opposite bank. The Indian, who seated himself in either the bow or stern, I fail to remember which, both ends seeming so exactly alike, skilfully propelled the long, wobbly craft to the other side, and we climbed up the steep, muddy bank, aided by the long lianas which hung down from tall trees towering overhead. We were soaking wet, as it had been necessary to sit down in the canoe to prevent overbalancing it; but after a little experience of the trail we had now got to, I realised that to be wet through was a normal condition to be in when travelling through the bush. The first mile or so we kept by the bank of the river along a trail which had been cleared by the ever useful machete. This trail was narrow, and necessitated our walking in Indian file, and for a part of the way I found myself in front of the loquacious Harvey, who, slightly sobered by the recent exertion of climbing up the bank with his load, continued babbling about Biblical subjects with ludicrous effect. His mind was greatly exercised in trying to recollect what really was the punishment to be meted out to rum-drinkers, and also as to what the sin could be which admitted of no possible forgiveness. It was marvellous how he managed to keep jabbering with his tongue while occupied with balancing the great bundle on his head and evading the pitfalls which beset his feet. When at last the trail led into the gloomy forest, it was a welcome escape from the heat and glare of the sun, the fierce rays of which had been pouring down upon us for over two hours. Charles Kingsley says that the first feeling he had on entering the primeval forest was one of helplessness, confusion, awe, and all but terror. Most of these feelings did come over me in the course of the journey, but the first emotion

was one of thankfulness for the deep shade. It is difficult to convey any idea of the luxuriant growth we were now amongst. Trees of all shapes and colours in profusion rose around us with a superabundant wealth of foliage so dense that it was impossible to find one’s way without a compass or a guide, and even the trail itself could only be traced by experts. Tall trees with parasitical creepers inextricably confused reaching upwards in long curving lines bewildered the eye. Fan-shaped palms, giant tree ferns and sword-like cactus that would make a small fortune for a florist at home grew all around. Strings of wire-like stems lay across the path, and it required no small skill and the utmost watchfulness to avoid being tripped up at every turn, and when we stumbled and put out our hands to keep from falling they met with prickly stems that stabbed like needles. Creepers twirled around and in and out, crossing and recrossing one another, defying all efforts to trace them to their source, bewildering as a ship’s rigging in a storm all broken and loose and entangled past hope of straightening out. Sedgy swamps, with long, sharp blades of leaves and fallen trees, often blocked the path, while the light grew dimmer and dimmer the further we penetrated into the forest fastnesses. At times we thought we must have left the trail, so overgrown and dense it had become, and even the guides who were supposed to know it were often puzzled, and frequently the machete had to be resorted to in removing the vegetation that had grown since the last traveller had passed that way. It is splendid exercise walking or pushing your way through a jungle, for the exertion the arms are called upon to put forth is nearly equal to that which the legs have to perform. Loops and festoons threatened to lasso and hang us at times, and whilst our eyes were engaged in watching for the dangers threatening us above our feet would be caught in some vegetable snare which the genii of the forest had spread for the intruder man. Orchids grew high up out of reach, and everywhere exquisite and grotesque forms presented themselves. Tiny humming-birds flitted past us, flashes of iridescent colour, and giant butterflies hovered over flowers as brilliant as themselves. Weird sounds from unseen monkeys, parrots, and toucans, high, piercing notes of birds, and the hum of innumerable insects confused the ears, as did the strange forms the eyes. We passed many trees of enormous girth, the lower portions of their trunks buttressed like Gothic cathedrals, and contrasting strangely with the tall, slender proportions of others, that seemed like long lengths of water-pipes set on end, through which a chimney-sweeper’s broom had been pushed, the brush protruding at the top. Often we came to streams, across which a few thin trees had been thrown to form a primitive bridge, and the passage of these with boots thick with slippery clay was quite an acrobatic feat, very much like walking the greasy pole. Sometimes long poles were stuck into the mud at the bottom of the river to assist the traveller across, but only occasionally did we meet with this luxury, and when the sticks we carried proved too short to reach the bottom we used them as a tight-rope walker does his balancing pole. Once I fell, but the water only came up to my waist, so that I waded to the opposite bank and climbed out. But the wading was not easy, for the bottom of the stream was thickly padded with fallen leaves, which formed a pulpy mass of decaying vegetation and prevented a firm foothold. We could not help admiring the way the half-sober Harvey crossed these bridges, his large feet turned out, his arms outstretched with pole in one hand and machete in the other, and the huge bundle cleverly balanced on his head. His performance would have evoked loud applause from the critical audience of a modern variety show, but we refrained from applauding lest we should swell his thick head. After stumbling, hot, damp, and perspiring, along the greasy track, stepping through muddy pools and morasses and wading through streams for hours, we came to a large clearing in the forest that had been made by the surveying party. It was the last camp they had occupied before proceeding to that which we were on our way to visit. We sat down in the shelter of one of the huts and rested. This was the first opportunity we had had of a seat, for in the forest there are no grassy spots or convenient bowers for the weary traveller to stretch himself and rest. Even when a fallen tree appears to offer a seat, sharp, prickly thorns or venomous insects prevent advantage being taken of it. Looking round at the now deserted camp, we were much impressed by the ingenuity displayed by its builders, for in the midst of the dense forest a circle about 300 feet in diameter had been cleared. Huge trees had been felled, the thick undergrowth cut down and burned, and from the smaller trees the huts or houses of the camp had been constructed. No nails had been used, the uprights and horizontals of the buildings being bound together by long withes. The roofs were neatly thatched with palm leaves, and gave shelter from the burning sun and heavy rains. Tables, benches, and beds were all constructed out of thin trees tied together, and supported on shorter lengths stuck into the ground. These were erected inside the huts, which were about thirty feet long by six feet wide, and open at the ends and sides. A large tree had been left as it fell, dividing the camp into two parts, that for the native attendants being much larger than the one reserved for the surveyors who employed them. My companion had been away at the time this camp was abandoned, and was now on his way to rejoin his companions in the new camp, about six miles distant in the forest. The men who accompanied us all belonged to the new camp, and had only left it a few days before to fetch provisions, supplies, newspapers, periodicals, and letters from the nearest railway station. After a short rest we started off again on a newer and more difficult trail, and as little or no traffic had passed over it, the utmost vigilance was needed on the part of the guides to detect the signs which marked it. The bearers were further laden with three surveying rods, which had been left at the old camp for them to bring along on their return. As the way became more difficult, frequent digressions were made into the bush, with the assistance of machetes, and often a halt was called and consultations held as to whether we were on the trail or not. Darkness was quickly falling, and we realised that it threatened to become a serious matter should we fail to reach the camp before the light completely faded. Harvey and one of the Indians lagged far behind, and the three men who were with us displayed an anxiety I was quick to notice and to share. The trail was lost! We plunged into the thick vegetation, cutting our way with an energy born of fear, till floundering up to the waists in a deep morass, we were forced to retrace our steps. We now realised the awe that the forest can inspire, for in the darkness which had suddenly descended it was impossible to see, and the imagination conjured up snakes and odious things in close proximity. To add to the horror of it all, my companion pointed out that we should have to climb a tree and wait till morning. My tired limbs ached in anticipation of the further effort required of them. My feet were sore and heavy, and the cool night air made my flesh creep under damp, clinging garments, and I felt ready to sink down and let events take their course, without attempting to battle any more against circumstances. We shouted, in hopes that our voices might reach the camp and bring assistance, shouted all together, until our faces must have been as black as the darkness that surrounded us. The negroes and Indians were in dreadful apprehension, their imaginations conjuring up demons of the wood and “duppies” in every moving branch. Strange, uncanny noises added to the unpleasantness of the situation, and when I ventured to quote to my companion, “There is a pleasure in the pathless wood,” he retorted, “It must have retired for the night, as we can’t find it. Still, it’s very gratifying to know it is around somewhere.” I paid no attention, but continued, “There is a rapture by the lonely shore.” He admitted that might be true, for, as he said, you knew where you were. “There is society where none intrude,” I added. But by this time my companion had no proper appreciation of Childe Harold’s meditations, and implored me to help him in roaring, instead of wasting my breath on stuff like poetry. At last we heard a faint “Halloo,” which came from the opposite direction to that which we had been attempting to take, and we made a fresh united effort to raise a loud yell. The inhabitants of the forest, monkeys, parrots, and strange, unknown animals, wondering doubtless what all the shouting was about, started jabbering, screaming, and growling, as if to drown our cries. We had been standing with water reaching to our knees, overcome with an acute sense of helplessness and afraid to venture in any direction. The answering shouts from the camp grew louder, and we knew that help was at hand; and when at last lights appeared, and, guided by our shouts, approached us, we experienced a feeling of intense relief. We made our way towards the lights, and found they were carried by a party of men from the camp, who conducted us to the not far-distant trail, and after about a half-hour’s walk we arrived at the camp we had been seeking. A hearty welcome from “the boys,” who had grown anxious at our non-appearance, and a meal consisting of hot coffee, biscuits, Boston beans, and jam was quickly set before us in one of the huts. In the dim light of the oil lamp we did ample justice to this simple fare, for we were as hungry as we were tired. At one end of the long hut six bunks had been placed, and already some of the party had turned in for the night, under the mosquito bars with which each was provided. It was only when I tried to remove my soaking boots and raiment that I realised that the bundle containing my dry clothing was in charge of Harvey, who was far behind us in the bush. Guns were fired off to direct him and his companion to the camp, but after waiting for a couple of hours we gave up expecting their arrival until morning. I was rigged out in sleeping clothes that were fairly dry, and turned in under a mosquito bar tired out in body, but awake in mind. We talked together for some hours, and speculated as to how poor Harvey and the Indian would be feeling, and how they would spend the night. Doubtless Harvey would recall our conversation of the morning, and would be thinking that the retribution and punishment which we had told him overtake drunkards had caught him up. One thing was quite certain, both he and his companions would be almost scared to death by fear of evil spirits or “duppies,” which are reported amongst the natives to inhabit the forest. All the strange noises that they hear are put down as emanating from the mysterious being who presides over the spirits that they believe infest the gloomy recesses of the woods. Confused notions prevail among the Indians and negroes, in spite of their outward adherence to the Christian faith, for they still retain a strong though disguised belief in the superstitions of their ancestors.

Harvey and his comrade had been perforce left in their distress, as it would have been impossible to persuade or force any of their companions to go in search of them. None of the camp, Indian or negro, would venture after nightfall into the eerie caverns of the bush. Before sleep came to me the rain fell with great violence, making a sound like waves lashing upon rocks during a storm, and innumerable sand-flies found their way under the mosquito curtain, and settled down to torment my aching limbs. The “pesky” sand-fly, small and insignificant, can inflict more suffering upon the human race than many another insect fifty times its size. The sensation of myriads of these small flies hovering around my feet felt at first as if innumerable particles of gritty dust had got between the sheets, and I paid little heed to them; but after about an hour of their attention I was fully convinced of my mistake, and realised that the sand-flies had discovered a new feeding-ground.

Some years ago, when on board a steamer which had run ashore on the Tampico River, in Mexico, I had experiences of what these small pests were capable of accomplishing. On that occasion a companion and myself had been so severely bitten about the ankles, wrists, and face that any casual observer would have avoided contact with us for fear of taking smallpox. Dreading a further experience of these insects, I covered up my face with a handkerchief, and mumbled to myself the poet’s plea:

At last half-stifled I fell into a disturbed slumber, from which, very early in the morning, I was awakened by the screams of the birds, monkeys, and parrots all round, and on looking out of the hut the strange beauty of the scene made me eager to get up and go outside to take ample stock of the camp and surroundings. The heavy morning mists hung all around, imparting a soft, mysterious aspect to the forest. It was as if an elusive veil of finest silver gauze had been spread from tree to tree by hidden fairy fingers. The smoke ascending from the camp fires seemed almost solid against the pearly background of the

woods, and so unreal did it all appear that one expected every moment it would fade away, as dreams do. And so it did, for as the sun rose higher the mists melted and disappeared, and the strange outlines and varied forms of trees and creeping vines stood plainly forth. We went down to a stream that ran near the camp and bathed in water that was warm but still refreshing. On our return we found the men whose huts were about forty yards away from ours busy preparing and eating their morning meal, sharpening machetes, spreading out damp clothes to dry, mending and patching garments that seemed unworthy of attention, drying, or trying to dry, great hobnailed boots by placing them over fires that shot up threatening flames around them. One man was at a biscuit tin filled with water, rinsing and beating a mud-stained shirt, in the vain endeavour to cleanse it from the all-pervading dirt; while near him another hacked with a machete at a pair of heavy top boots, removing great slices of half-dried mud at every blow. But all of them abruptly ceased from their occupations when Harvey and his comrade came shouting gleefully into the clearing. They were sorry-looking wrecks, mud-stained and dishevelled, with their clothes hanging about them in tatters. All the camp crowded round them, and I was rather relieved to find that Harvey had not abandoned the great bundle which contained, amongst other things, my clothes; and while he untied the parcel we questioned him about his experiences in the bush. He was quite sober now, but although he had regained some of his natural obsequious manner, he was inclined to be a trifle boastful after the night’s exploit. “What man dat say dere be ‘duppies’ in the wood?” he asked vehemently. “Dat man he lie, for dere don’t be no ‘duppies,’ no, not one at all, in de whole bush. Dere don’t be nothin’ ’cept them monkeys, tigers, snakes, and other tings.” “But you were a little frightened, Harvey, weren’t you?” I inquired.

“No, massa, not a bit frightened, not a bit. Sebastian, he war kin’ o’ skeered, so I made him light a fire to keep away dem tiger cats, and made him keep awake, to see if any ob dem ‘duppies’ was about. But dere don’t be no ‘duppies,’ not a ting in de bush at all to be skeered of.”

In consideration for the trials the two men had passed through, they were permitted to take a day off work and recover from the fright they had undoubtedly received; and, if I am not mistaken, Harvey had suffered more alarm than his dull and less imaginative companion. After this interlude the day’s work began in real earnest, each surveyor taking with him an escort of five or six labourers, to cut their way in different directions, measuring levels and distances, and surveying the contour of the country. The troches which they cut into the bush form long, straight tunnels, but the progress they make is slow. Each day the distance from the camp cut in this manner is increased, and parties have a two hours’ walk through the troches before they arrive at the point they had reached the previous day. The levels and the land surveyed during the morning are carefully recorded and marked on the large charts upon the return to camp. Thus day after day knowledge is gained of a country hitherto untrodden by human footsteps. The party that I was visiting had been engaged upon this work for over six months, and one of their number had never once during all that period left the bush. Magazines, newspapers, and letters arrived at camp once a week, but visitors never came, and mine was the first strange face he had seen for half a year. He was a quiet cultured, well-educated youth, energetic, and in love with his work, well content to be gaining an experience in his profession denied to those less venturous and plodding than himself. On my return journey from the camp I was guided by a small Indian boy, strong, fleet of foot, who although encumbered with my baggage yet raced along the trail with such rapidity that I was in danger of losing sight of him. After a mile or two I wished to call a halt, but was unsuccessful in making him understand my wishes, so I was forced to keep up with him as best I could, and wait until we arrived at the deserted camp before taking a rest. When we arrived I sat again in the shelter afforded by the now abandoned hut, and rested for an hour or more, marvelling at the wonder all around me. Confused masses of shrubs and plants met my gaze, which would have been greeted with enthusiastic admiration if seen in English hot-houses. Wild bananas grew in large clumps, their long leaves torn by the wind, their stems covered with climbing ferns. Bamboos sixty or seventy feet high swayed in the faintest breeze and creaked in every joint.

The richest woodland in northern latitudes is tame compared with the tropical forest. During the midday heat the leaves where the sun beats on them became lax and drooping and languishing for the rain to come and cheer them. While I sat there under the shade of the rude cabin the heat and tension became almost insupportable, and languor and sleepiness fell upon me. As the sun blazed down upon the clearing myriads of humming, buzzing insects filled the air. The white rolling clouds which passed overhead were quickly changing to a leaden hue, and darkness, intensified by contrast with the brilliant light it superseded, covered the scene. Lightning flashed and thunder rolled, and deafened with its noise. A mighty wind arose and swayed the tall trees all around, the rustling of whose million leaves added to the roaring sound that made my head grow dizzy. Then the rain came. Nothing can compare with the storm that burst. Even the thickly padded roof of palm leaves above my head was not impervious to the deluge, and very soon I was wet with the great splashes that came bursting through. So violent was its descent, that upon reaching the earth the water rebounded in all directions, so that even had the roof proved water-tight, sufficient water found entrance upwards to swamp the hut. The storm ceased as suddenly as it had come, the black clouds dissipated and passed away, then the serene, deep blue sky again looked down upon the glistening landscape. Before leaving the clearing I strolled around, and one giant tree of enormous girth attracted my attention. The buttresses at its base made by the roots rising out of the ground formed huge stalls that would have accommodated six good-sized ponies. Its age, not easily determined, must have been great, and it had seen thousands of storms like the one that had just passed over it. It was long past its early youth when Europeans first landed on these shores. The ancients supposed that trees were all immortal, and modern botanists have proved that many are almost indestructible, and may have witnessed the struggles of the earliest man. At last we started off to complete the journey home. When we arrived at the bank of the river we were fortunate in discovering a canoe moored to a branch. I felt a little reluctant to trust myself to the skill of the mere boy who accompanied me, but there was no help for it, so seating myself at one end of the narrow craft I awaited anxiously our arrival on the opposite bank. In spite of his diminutive proportions, however, the urchin was quite an adept with the paddle, and accomplished the journey against a swiftly flowing stream in a manner that showed he was accustomed to the navigation of the river. After we landed the journey was comparatively easy, but I was glad when we arrived at the headquarters house from which I had started. Finding my way along the railway track past houses inhabited by workers on the line, I arrived at the village and railway station, whence I got a train that carried me back to comparative civilisation.