The Rifle Rangers. Reid Mayne

waters of the Gulf.

      His rays, prinkling over the waves, caused them to dance and sparkle with a metallic brightness; and it was only after shading my eyes that I could distinguish the tall masts of ships and the burnished towers of the city.

      To the south and west stretched a wide expanse of champaign country, glowing in all the brilliance of tropical vegetation. Fields of green, and forests of darker green; here and there patches of yellow, and belts of olive-coloured leaves; at intervals a sheet of silver – the reflection from a placid lake, or the bend of some silent stream – was visible upon the imposing picture at my feet.

      A broad belt of forest, dotted with the lifelike frondage of the palm, swept up to the foot of the hill. Beyond this lay an open tract of meadow, or prairie, upon which were browsing thousands of cattle. The distance was too great to distinguish their species; but the slender forms of some of them convinced me that the object of our search would be found in that direction.

      The meadow, then, was the point to be reached.

      The belt of forest already mentioned must be crossed; and to effect this I struck into a trail that seemed to lead in the direction of the meadow.

      The trail became lighter as we entered the heavy timber. Some distance farther on we reached a stream. Here the trail entirely disappeared. No “signs” could be found on the opposite bank. The underwood was thick; and vines, with broad green leaves and huge clusters of scarlet flowers, barred up the path like a wall.

      It was strange! The path had evidently led to this point, but where beyond?

      Several men were detached across the stream to find an opening. After a search of some minutes a short exclamation from Lincoln proclaimed success; I crossed over, and found the hunter standing near the bank, holding back a screen of boughs and vine-leaves, beyond which a narrow but plain track was easily distinguished, leading on into the forest. The trellis closed like a gate, and it seemed as if art had lent a hand to the concealment of the track. The footprints of several horses were plainly visible in the sandy bottom of the road.

      The men entered in single file. With some difficulty Major Blossom and his great horse squeezed themselves through, and we moved along under the shady and silent woods.

      After a march of several miles, fording numerous streams, and working our way through tangled thickets of nopal and wild maguey, an opening suddenly appeared through the trees. Emerging from the forest, a brilliant scene burst upon us. A large clearing, evidently once cultivated, but now in a state of neglect, stretched out before us. Broad fields, covered with flowers of every hue – thickets of blooming rose-trees – belts of the yellow helianthus – and groups of cocoa-trees and half-wild plantains, formed a picture singular and beautiful.

      On one side, and close to the border of the forest, could be seen the roof of a house, peering above groves of glistening foliage, and thither we marched.

      We entered a lane, with its guardarayas of orange-trees planted in rows upon each side, and meeting overhead.

      The sunlight fell through this leafy screen with a mellowed and delicious softness, and the perfume of flowers was wafted on the air.

      The rich music of birds was around us; and the loveliness of the scene was heightened by the wild neglect which characterised it.

      On approaching the house we halted; and after charging the men to remain silent, I advanced alone to reconnoitre.

      Chapter Ten.

      Adventure with a Cayman

      The lane suddenly opened upon a pasture, but within this a thick hedge of jessamines, forming a circle, barred the view.

      In this circle was the house, whose roof only could be seen from without.

      Not finding any opening through the jessamines, I parted the leaves with my hands, and looked through. The picture was dream-like; so strange, I could scarcely credit my senses.

      On the crest of the little hillock stood a house of rare construction – unique and unlike anything I had ever seen. The sides were formed of bamboos, closely picketed, and laced together by fibres of the pita. The roof – a thatch of palm-leaves – projected far over the eaves, rising to a cone, and terminating in a small wooden cupola with a cross. There were no windows. The walls themselves were translucent; and articles of furniture could be distinguished through the interstices of the bamboos.

      A curtain of green barège, supported by a rod and rings, formed the door. This was drawn, discovering an ottoman near the entrance, and an elegant harp.

      The whole structure presented the coup-d’oeil of a huge birdcage, with its wires of gold!

      The grounds were in keeping with the house. In these, the evidence of neglect, which had been noticed without, existed no longer. Every object appeared to be under the training of a watchful solicitude.

      A thick grove of olives, with their gnarled and spreading branches and dark-green leaves, stretched rearward, forming a background to the picture. Right and left grew clumps of orange and lime trees. Golden fruit and flowers of brilliant hues mingled with their yellow leaves; spring and autumn blended upon the same branches!

      Rare shrubs – exotics – grew out of large vessels of japanned earthenware, whose brilliant tints added to the voluptuous colouring of the scene.

      A jet d’eau, crystalline, rose to the height of twenty feet, and, returning in a shower of prismatic globules, stole away through a bed of water-lilies and other aquatic plants, losing itself in a grove of lofty plantain-trees. These, growing from the cool watery bed, flung out their broad glistening leaves to the length of twenty feet.

      So signs of human life met the eye. The birds alone seemed to revel in the luxuriance of this tropical paradise. A brace of pea-fowl stalked over the parterre in all the pride of their rainbow plumage. In the fountain appeared the tall form of a flamingo, his scarlet colour contrasting with the green leaves of the water-lily. Songsters were trilling in every tree. The mock-bird, perched upon the highest limb, was mimicking the monotonous tones of the parrot. The toucans and trogons flashed from grove to grove, or balanced their bodies under the spray of the jet d’eau; while the humming-birds hung upon the leaves of some honeyed blossom, or prinkled over the parterre like straying sunbeams.

      I was running my eye over this dream-like picture, in search of a human figure, when the soft, metallic accents of a female voice reached me from the grove of plantains. It was a burst of laughter – clear and ringing. Then followed another, with short exclamations, and the sound of water as if dashed and sprinkled with a light hand.

      What must be the Eve of a paradise like this! The silver tones were full of promise. It was the first female voice that had greeted my ears for a month, and chords long slumbering vibrated under the exquisite touch.

      My heart bounded. My first impulse was “forward”, which I obeyed by springing through the jessamines. But the fear of intruding upon a scene à la Diane changed my determination, and my next thought was to make a quiet retreat.

      I was preparing to return, and had thrust one leg back through the hedge, when a harsh voice – apparently that of a man – mingled with the silvery tones.

      “Anda! – anda! – hace mucho calor. Vamos á volver.” (Hasten! – it is hot. Let us return.)

      “Ah, no, Pepe! un ratito mas.” (Ah, no, Pepe! a little while longer.)

      “Vaya, carrambor!” (Quick, then!)

      Again the clear laughter rang out, mingled with the clapping of hands and short exclamations of delight.

      “Come,” thought I, once more entering the parterre, “as there appears to be one of my own sex here already, it cannot be very mal à propos to take a peep at this amusement, whatever it be.”

      I approached the row of plantain-trees, whose leaves screened the speakers from view.

      “Lupé! Lupé! mira! que bonito!” (Lupé! Lupé! look here! What a pretty thing!)

      “Ah, pobrecito! echalo, Luz, echalo.” (Ah!