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A DANGEROUS PASS.
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cades to fear, the wind may, perhaps, have uprooted some dead tree, and should it happen to hit the side of our boat, it would cant over to a dead certainty; but if we are struck on the bow, it may do us no harm. The tide runs up as far as this, and sharks not uncommonly come up with it."

This last observation disclosed another danger which I had not suspected; and, in the presence of the increasing perils of this nocturnal expedition, I thought, with some bitterness, on the comfortable farniente and refreshing sleep I should have enjoyed had I been in my hotel at Vera Cruz.

Calros did not require a second warning, but resumed his oar with new vigor. We soon arrived at a place where a high rock on each side of the stream approached each other, narrowing very considerably the bed of the river. About a dozen paces farther up, the passage became so contracted that both oars could not be worked, and it was only by the assistance of a boathook that the pilot, by fixing it among the lianas, could pull us up against the force of the current. The river widened considerably at the head of this narrow pass, and allowed us again to ply our oars; but as the stream grew broader, the banks rose in proportion. On the right and left, high rocks curved gently in ward, and then ran sheer down into the water, like the arch of a bridge broken at the key-stone. Under this vault every stroke produced an echo. We advanced by chance, and the darkness was so intense that we did not know but what every pull would send us up against the wall of rock on either side.

"One would need to have the eyes of a tiger-cat to see in this place," cried the pilot.

"Have we far to go now?" asked Calros.