Then as he followed Pepe and the natives down the trail there was a deep satisfaction within him. He heard the soft rush of water over stones and the mourning of turtledoves. He rounded a little hill to come abruptly upon the dense green mass of river foliage. Giant cypress-trees, bearded with gray moss, fringed the banks. Through the dark green of leaves Ken caught sight of light-green water. Birds rose all about him. There were rustlings in the thick underbrush and the whir of ducks. The natives penetrated the dark shade and came out to an open, grassy point. The Santa Rosa, glistening, green, swift, murmured at Ken’s feet. The natives dropped the boat into the water, and with Pepe went back for the rest of the outfit. Ken looked up the shady lane of the river and thought of the moment when he had crossed the bridge in the train. Then, as much as he had longed to be there, he had not dared to hope it. And here he was! How strange it was, just then, to see a large black duck with white-crested wings sweep by as swift as the wind! Ken had seen that wild fowl, or one of his kind, and it had haunted him. *V* *THE FIRST CAMP* In less than an hour all the outfit had been carried down to the river, and the boys sat in the shade, cooling off, happily conscious that they had made an auspicious start. It took Ken only a moment to decide to make camp there and the next day try to reach Micas Falls. The mountains appeared close at hand, and were so lofty that, early in the afternoon as it was, the westering sun hung over the blue summits. The notch where the Santa Rosa cut through the range stood out clear, and at most it was not more than eighteen miles distant. So Ken planned to spend a day pulling up the river, and then to turn for the down-stream trip. “Come, boys, let’s make camp,” said Ken. He sent Pepe with his long _machete_ into the brush to cut fire-wood. Hal he set to making a stone fireplace, which work the boy rather prided himself upon doing well. Ken got George to help him to put up the strip of canvas. They stretched a rope between two trees, threw the canvas over it, and pegged down the ends. “Say, how ’re we going to sleep?” inquired Hal, suddenly. “Sleep? Why, on our backs, of course,” retorted Ken, who could read Hal’s mind. “If we don’t have some hot old times keeping things out of this tent, I’m a lobster,” said George, dubiously. “I’m going to sleep in the middle.” “You’re a brave boy, George,” replied Ken. “Me for between Ken and Pepe,” added Hal. “And you’re twice as brave,” said Ken. “I dare say Pepe and I will be able to keep things from getting at you.”