We passed another night when the torrents of rain had no effect on the myriads of mosquitoes and black-flies. Still all the brooks ran inland, although, as we afterwards learned, in the dry season these banks are so high above the water that they are hard to climb. All day long we saw monkeys along the banks, though high above us, and the following night we heard the howlers; but in compensation for that evil had no mosquitoes. By Saturday (Nov. 3, 1883) we hoped to be well on our road from Pansos to Coban, but, except the cayuco, we saw no signs of men or the work of men’s hands; on that morning, however, we came to a little _finca_ on the river bank, where a good sized stream from the river flowed into the yard and through the house. The poultry had taken refuge on the roof, and the Indian proprietors waded through the flood. Luckily the oven, or fire-place, was raised on sticks several feet above the water, so that the señora could make us some tortillas,—eight for a real. Eggs were the same price. Slight as the forage was, it was very acceptable, as our food was nearly gone, and we were already dependent on the Caribs for their cassava-bread. The river, these persons said, was falling, so we pushed on with new courage. A fine spider-lily (_Crinum_) grew on the bank where we moored our canoa. We noticed that whenever we made fast to the cane-brake, the black-flies bothered us far more than when we had trees overhead; was it not because the cane did not afford roosts or concealment for the fly-catching birds and reptiles? The blossoms of the cane were very beautiful, indeed as attractive as those we had noticed on the Chocon. Mahogany-trees were seen here and there, and we were told that there was much of this fine wood on the Rio Zarco, just at hand. I also saw a goyava-tree, some eighteen inches in diameter and eighty feet high. In the afternoon we passed willows (_Sauce_), and about five o’clock were startled by an unusual noise behind us, when a huge three-storied structure came sweeping up the stream, as if in pursuit; it was the steamer “City of Belize,” a flat-bottomed stern-wheeler. As the current was very strong and the channel narrow, we hastened to make fast to a large fig-tree overhanging the stream. Before, however, our arrangements were made, the steamer was upon us, and her surge, added to the current, tore us from our mooring and swept us under the tree. Our masts caught in a branch, and we were turned on our beam-ends. For an instant our situation was critical. Our weather-rail was six inches under water, and we were clinging to the other side as the water came pouring in; then the mainmast slipped, and we righted, all hands bailing out eagerly, while Frank held by some branches and prevented a repetition of the disaster. If the canoa had upset, our journey would probably have ended there, as our photographic supplies would have been ruined, and there would have