did. Tootu was usually spokesman; but whatever he said, the other two,

fire and water, were ready to chime in with, and swear to if need be.

Onwards and upwards they journeyed now for hours, the pathway sometimes so steep that they had to clamber on their hands and knees.

Onwards and upwards, then onwards and _downwards_. This was the worst of it. It was as trying to the nerves as the temper. It did seem a pity that, after they had reached a certain elevation, they should be confronted with a ravine into the very bottom of which the pathway led them before taking them onwards and upwards again. It was like having to do the ascent twice over. But there was no help for it.

Tom was amply rewarded, however, by the beauty of the tropical forest. I should search in vain through the tablets of my memory for words in which to express the charm and singularity of those woodlands. On the lower grounds, indeed, the vegetation was all a wild and lovely tangle, representing on an enormous scale the struggle for existence that has been going on here for ages. It was one great and continued fight for the sunlight, in which to some extent and for a time the largest and strongest trees gained the victory. But the smaller and weaker plants, the splendidly-flowered creepers, the mosses, the orchids, and lesser ferns were not to be denied. There was nowhere they would not go, no height to which they would not aspire and climb. They draped the tree-stems and branches with blossoms, it is true; but by and by that very wealth of trailing, hanging, waving beauty proved the downfall of the most lordly giants of the forest; and when winds swept through the woods they came down with a crash, and in a few weeks had disappeared off the face of the earth. For here a fallen trunk is seldom seen, in such teeming myriads do busy-footed insects work on the ground and beneath it.

Out at last came the wanderers upon a higher region still, and now they had to traverse for miles a kind of hilly plateau that looked altogether like the work of some wonderful landscape gardener. It was a plateau covered with innumerable little tree-clad, fern-clad, moss-clad, flower-covered hills, with rocks in the shape of gray needles, silvery boulders, square towers, domes, and minarets, peeping up through the foliage everywhere. Round and among these wound many a little footpath--the footpaths of wild beasts--but none, probably, more dangerous than the timid agouti, the cavy, or peccary. Occasionally they crossed small meandering streams that appeared here and there, popping out from banks of foliage or gushing and trickling from the hill-sides, and disappearing again soon in the same mysterious manner.

Add to this “garden wide and wild” birds that flutter from bough to bough, many silent but of rainbow radiance, others gray and brown and hardly seen, but trilling forth such melody as can be heard from no other feathered songsters on earth; add to it radiant butterflies and moths in clouds; bees also, some of enormous size and dangerous wrathful appearance; and snakes basking on the moss of rocks, gliding swiftly through the little glades, or hanging asleep on the bushes.

Close to a tiny stream of clear water Tom sat down; the weary carriers threw down their burdens, and a welcome meal was made of biscuits and fruit, and a long rest taken before resuming the ascent.

The great mountain was there before them still, looking as big and far steeper than when they started.

The foliage changed now, and some parts of the mountain over which they climbed were all ablaze with tree-rhododendrons, while the perfume of wild heliotrope filled the air. Heaths, too, were abundant, many of which put Tom in mind of those he had wandered among on the mountains of the Cape of Good Hope.

Climbing began in earnest soon after this; and no one spoke, but clambered on and up in silent earnestness. Just about sunset they found themselves once more on a vast plateau, on which grew only the scantiest herbage. After crossing this they found a small cave in the mountain-side, and here for the night the bivouac was made.

While dinner was being prepared Tom climbed higher up still and sat himself down on a rock; but the vastness and grandeur of the scene, and its indescribable silence and solemnity, must be left to the reader’s imagination.

He must have been fully ten thousand feet above the sea-level; and yet the snowy craters of Carhuairazo, just visible over the bluff bare brow of the mountain, still towered high above him.

Far below was an ocean of lesser hills, of woods and plains and smiling valleys, with streams that looked like trickling rills or silver threads among the green, and here and there a glassy lake.

The sun went down in a blaze of glory, and he now hastened below to enjoy repose and a well-earned dinner.

About nine o’clock, though the stars had been very bright before this, a storm-cloud passed over the mountain-side, with a roaring wind, heavy rain, and thunder and lightning. After this Tom went out to have one more look at the scene before turning in. Nothing was now visible beneath but a dim chaos of clouds, nothing on the horizon either, except, far away to the north, the giant cone of Cotopaxi. Its snow-girt crater was lit up every now and then by the gleams of the great fires within--gleams that darted in straight lines up through the rolling clouds of smoke that hung pall-like over it.

This is the loftiest and mightiest volcano in the world. Talk not of its height in feet or yards--speak of it in miles; and fancy, if you can, a burning mountain nearly five miles in height, the thunders of whose workings can be heard, and have been heard, six hundred miles away! It made Tom shiver to think of it. But O, the illimitable distance of the stars that shone above, and to think of God who made them all! What a mystery of mysteries! And the stars are voice-less, and these dread volcanoes speak only to us in thunders that we cannot understand, till we are fain to seek for refuge in the only refuge we have: our belief in the goodness of the Father, and the religion revealed to us in the Book of Books.

Tom sighed, he knew not why, and crept inside to the shelter of the cave, and wrapping himself in his blanket soon sank to sleep. But many times ere morning he was startled by the roar of falling debris of earth, rocks, and stone, loosened by the recent rain storm.

Samaro roused his young master early to see the sunrise. But when he went outside he stood for a few moments in silent wonder. Where had the world all gone to? It had disappeared, most assuredly--most of it at all events. Here was the mountain above and round him, but all the gorgeous scenery he had gazed on last night was swallowed up in an ocean of white mist or clouds. The word “ocean” is precisely the one to use. Beneath and as far as the eye could gaze all was a vast white sea, only it was bounded on the horizon by the jagged ridges and crater-cones of the mountains, and these looked like rocks and cliffs overhanging this ocean.

It was a marvellous sight; but when presently the red sun showed over the edge the scene was changed, and the whole sea of mist turned to clouds of mingled gold and crimson.