“Well, then, madam; providence, if you prefer it,” said Harris, with the air of a man incapable of recognizing the distinction.
After finding that there was no one amongst them who was acquainted in any way with the country through which they were travelling, Harris seemed to exhibit an evident pleasure in pointing out and describing by name the various wonders of the forest. Had Cousin Benedict’s attainments included a knowledge of botany he would have found himself in a fine field for researches, and might perchance have discovered novelties to which his own name could be appended in the catalogues of science. But he was no botanist; in fact, as a rule, he held all blossoms in aversion, on the ground that they entrapped insects into their corollae, and poisoned them sometimes with venomous juices. New and rare insects, however, seemed hereabouts to be wanting.
Occasionally the soil became marshy, and they all had to wend their way over a perfect network of tiny rivulets that were affluents of the river from which they had started. Sometimes these rivulets were so wide that they could not be passed without a long search for some spot where they could be forded; their banks were all very damp, and in many places abounded with a kind of reed, which Harris called by its proper name of papyrus.
As soon as the marshy district had been passed, the forest resumed its original aspect, the footway becoming narrow as ever. Harris pointed out some very fine ebony-trees, larger than the common sort, and yielding a wood darker and more durable than what is ordinarily seen in the market. There were also more mango-trees than might have been expected at this distance from the sea; a beautiful white lichen enveloped their trunks like a fur; but in spite of their luxuriant foliage and delicious fruit, Harris said that there was not a native who would venture to propagate the species, as the superstition of the country is that “whoever plants a mango, dies!”
At noon a halt was made for the purpose of rest and refreshment. During the afternoon they arrived at some gently rising ground, not the first slopes of hills, but an insulated plateau which appeared to unite mountains and plains. Notwithstanding that the trees were far less crowded and more inclined to grow in detached groups, the numbers of herbaceous plants with which the soil was covered rendered progress no less difficult than it was before. The general aspect of the scene was not unlike an East Indian jungle. Less luxuriant indeed than in the lower valley of the river, the vegetation was far more abundant than that of the temperate zones either of the Old or New continents. Indigo grew in great profusion, and, according to Harris’s representation, was the most encroaching plant in the whole country; no sooner, he said, was a field left untilled, than it was overrun by this parasite, which sprang up with the rank growth of thistles or nettles.
One tree which might have been expected to be common in this part of the continent seemed entirely wanting. This was the caoutchouc. Of the various trees from which India-rubber is procured, such as the Ficus prinoides, the Castilla elastica, the Cecropia peltata, the Callophora utilis, the Cameraria latifolia, and especially the Siphonia elastica, all of which abound in the provinces of South America, not a single specimen was to be seen. Dick had promised to show Jack an India-rubber-tree, and the child, who had conjured up visions of squeaking dolls, balls, and other toys growing upon its branches, was loud and constant in his expressions of disappointment.
“Never mind, my little man,” said Harris; “have patience, and you shall see hundreds of India-rubber-trees when you get to the hacienda.”
“And will they be nice and elastic?” asked Jack, whose ideas upon the subject were of the vaguest order.
“Oh, yes, they will stretch as long as you like,” Harris answered, laughing. “But here is something to amuse you,” he added, and as he spoke, he gathered a fruit that looked as tempting as a peach.
“You are quite sure that it is safe to give it him?” said Mrs. Weldon anxiously.
“To satisfy you, madam, I will eat one first myself.”
The example he set was soon followed by all the rest. The fruit was a mango; that which had been so opportunely discovered was of the sort that ripens in March or April; there is a later kind which ripens in September. With his mouth full of juice, Jack pronounced that it was very nice, but did not seem to be altogether diverted from his sense of disappointment at not coming to an India-rubber-tree. Evidently the little man thought himself rather injured.
“And Dick promised me some hummingbirds too!” he murmured.
“Plenty of hummingbirds for you, when you get to the farm; lots of them where my brother lives,” said Harris.
And to say the truth, there was nothing extravagant in the way the child’s anticipations had been raised, for in Bolivia hummingbirds are found in great abundance. The Indians, who weave their plumage into all kinds of artistic designs, have bestowed the most poetical epithets upon these gems of the feathered race. They call them “rays of the sun,” and “tresses of the daystar;” at one time they will describe them as “king of flowers,” at another as “blossoms of heaven kissing blossoms of earth,” or as “the jewel that reflects the sunbeam.” In fact their imagination seems to have shaped a suitable distinction for almost every one of the 150 known species of this dazzling little beauty.
But however numerous hummingbirds might be expected to be in the Bolivian forest, they proved scarce enough at present, and Jack had to content himself with Harris’s representations that they did not like solitude, but would be found plentifully at San Felice, where they would be heard all day long humming like a spinning-wheel. Already Jack said he longed to be there,
