It was not without a certain apprehension—nothing seemed to it, however—that Dick Sand, three hundred steps from the steep bank of the river, into the thick forest, the difficult paths of which he and his companions were going to follow for ten days. On the contrary, Mrs. Weldon herself, a woman and a mother, whom the would make doubly anxious, had every confidence. Two very serious had contributed to her; first, because this region of the pampas was neither very formidable on account of the natives, nor on account of the animals which were found there; next, because, under the direction of Harris, of a guide so sure of himself as the American appeared to be, they could not be afraid of going astray.  
Here is the order of , which, as far as possible, would be observed during the journey:
 
Dick Sand and Harris, both armed, one with his long gun, the other with a Remington, kept at the head of the little troop.
 
Then came Bat and Austin, also armed, each with a gun and a cutlass.
 
Behind them followed Mrs. Weldon and little , on horseback; then
Nan and Tom.
In the rear, Acteon, armed with the fourth Remington, and Hercules, with a in his belt, closed the march.
 
Dingo went and forwards, and, as Dick Sand remarked, always like an uneasy dog seeking a . The dog's ways had visibly changed since the "Pilgrim's" had cast it on this sea-coast. It seemed , and almost it kept up a dull , rather than furious. That was remarked by all, though no one could explain it.
 
As to Cousin Benedict, it had been as impossible to assign him an order of marching as Dingo. Unless he had been held by a string, he would not have kept it. His tin box to his shoulder, his net in his hand, his large magnifying glass suspended to his neck, sometimes behind, sometimes in front, he away among the high herbs, watching for orthopters or any other insect in "pter," at the risk of being bit by some venomous serpent.
 
During the first hour Mrs. Weldon, uneasy, called him back twenty times. It was no use.
 
"Cousin Benedict," she finished by saying to him, "I beg you very seriously not to go far away, and I urge you for the last time to pay attention to my ."
 
"Meanwhile, cousin," replied the intractable entomologist, "when I perceive an insect?"
 
"When you perceive an insect," replied Mrs. Weldon, "you would do well to let it go in peace, or you will put me under the necessity of taking your box away from you."
 
"Take away my box!" cried Cousin Benedict, as if it were a question of snatching away his heart.
 
"Your box and your net," added Mrs. Weldon, pitilessly.
 
"My net, cousin! And why not my glasses? You will not dare! No; you will not dare!"
 
"Even, your glasses, which I forgot. I thank you, Cousin Benedict, for reminding me that I have that means of making you blind, and, in that way, forcing you to be wise."
 
This triple menace had the effect of making him keep quiet—this unsubmissive cousin—for about an hour. Then he began to go away again, and, as he would do the same, even without net, without box, and without glasses, they were obliged to let him do as he pleased. But Hercules undertook to watch him closely—which quite naturally became one of his duties—and it was agreed that he would act with Cousin Benedict as the latter would with an insect; that is, that he would catch him, if necessary, and bring him back as delicately as the other would with the rarest of the lepidopters.
 
That rule made, they troubled themselves no more about Cousin Benedict.
 
The little troop, it has been seen, was well armed, and guarded itself carefully. But, as Harris repeated, there was no encounter to fear except with wandering Indians, and they would probably see none.
 
At all events, the precautions taken would suffice to keep them respectful.
 
The paths which wound across the thick forest did not merit that name. They were rather the tracks of animals than the tracks of men. They could only be followed with difficulty. So, in fixing the average distance that the little troop would make in a march of twelve hours at only five or six miles, Harris had calculated wisely.
 
The weather, however, was very fine. The sun mounted toward the zenith, spreading in waves his almost rays. On the plain this heat would be , Harris took care to remark; but, under those impenetrable branches, they bore it easily and with .
 
The greater part of the trees of this forest were unknown, as well to
Mrs. Weldon as to her companions, black or white.
However, an expert would remark that they were more for their quality than for their height. Here, it was the "banhinia," or iron wood; there, the "molompi," identical with the "pterocarpe," a solid and light wood, fit for making the spoons used in sugar manufactories or , from the trunk of which an abundant ; further on, "fusticks," or yellow wood, well supplied with coloring materials, and lignum-vitæs, measuring as much as twelve feet in diameter, but inferior in quality to the ordinary lignum-vitæs.
 
While walking, Dick Sand asked Harris the name of these different trees.
 
"Then you have never been on the coast of South America?" Harris asked him before replying to his question.
 
"Never," replied the ; "never, during my voyages, have I had occasion to visit these coasts, and to say the truth, I do not believe that anybody who knew about them has ever spoken to me of them."
 
"But have you at least explored the coasts of Colombia, those of , or of Patagonia?"
 
"No, never."
 
"But perhaps Mrs. Weldon has visited this part of the new continent?" asked Harris. "Americans do not fear voyages, and doubtless——"
 
"No, Mr. Harris," replied Mrs. Weldon. "The commercial interests of my husband have never called him except to New Zealand, and I have not had to accompany him elsewhere. Not one of us, then, knows this portion of lower Bolivia."
 
"Well, Mrs. Weldon, you and your companions will see a singular country, which contrasts strangely with the regions of Peru, of Brazil, or of the Argentine Republic. Its and would astonish a . Ah! we may say that you have been shipwrecked at a good place, and if we may ever thank chance——"
 
"I wish to believe that it is not chance which has led us here, but
God, Mr. Harris."
"God! Yes! God!" replied Harris, in the tone of a man who takes little account of providential in the things of this world.
 
Then, since nobody in the little troop knew either the country or its productions, Harris took a pleasure in naming pleasantly the most curious trees of the forest.
 
In truth, it was a pity that, in Cousin Benedict's case, the entomologist was not supplemented by the ! If, up to this time, he had hardly found insects either rare or new, he might have made fine discoveries in botany. There was, in , vegetation of all heights, the existence of which in the tropical forests of the New World had not been yet . Cousin Benedict would certainly have attached his name to some discovery of this kind. But he did not like botany—he knew nothing about it. He even, quite naturally, held flowers in aversion, under the that some of them permit themselves to the insects in their corollas, and poison them with their venomous juices.
 
At times, the forest became . They felt under foot quite a network of liquid threads, which would feed the of the little river. Some of the rills, somewhat large, could only be crossed by choosing fordable places.
 
On their banks grew tufts of reeds, to which Harris gave the name of . He was not mistaken, and those herbaceous plants grew abundantly below the damp banks.
 
Then, the passed, of trees again covered the narrow routes of the forest.
 
Harris made Mrs. Weldon and Dick Sand remark some very fine ebony-trees, much larger than the common ebony-tree, which furnish a wood much blacker and much stronger than that of commerce. Then there were mango-trees, still numerous, though they were rather far from the sea. A kind of fur of white climbed them as far as the branches. Their thick shade and their delicious fruit made them precious trees, and meanwhile, according to Harris, not a native would dare to propagate the species. "Whoever plants a mango-tree dies!" Such is the of the country.
 
During the second half of this first day of the journey, the little troop, after the midday halt, began to land slightly inclined. They were not as yet the slopes of the chain of the first plane, but a sort of undulating plateau which connected the plain with the mountain.
 
There the trees, a little less compact, sometimes clustered in groups, would have rendered the march easier, if the soil had not been invaded by herbaceous plants. One might believe himself in the jungles of Oriental India. Vegetation appeared to be less luxuriant than in the lower valley of the little river, but it was still superior to that of the regions of the Old or of the New World.
 
was growing there in profusion, and, according to Harris, this leguminous plant passed with reason for the most plant of the country. If a field came to be abandoned, this , as much despised as the thistle or the , took possession of it immediately.
 
One tree seemed lacking in this forest, which ought to be very common in this part of the new continent; it was the caoutchouc-tree. In fact, the "ficus primoides," the "castilloa elastica," the "cecropia peltats," the "collophora utilis," the "cameraria letifolia," and above all, the "syphonia elastica," which belong to different families, in the provinces of South America. And meanwhile, a rather singular thing, there was not a single one to be seen.
 
Now, Dick Sand had particularly promised his friend Jack to show him some caoutchouc trees. So a great for the little boy, who figured to himself that , speaking babies, articulate punchinellos, and balloons grew quite naturally on those trees. He complained.
 
"Patience, my good little man," replied Harris. "We shall find some of those caoutchoucs, and by hundreds, in the............